I’m not a big TV person, but I may just be a Food Network addict. When most kids were watching cartoons and Nickelodeon, I was tuned-in to Food Network watching Paula Deen throw pounds of butter into anything simmering on the stove. That being said, Food Network is now usually playing in the background when I myself am whipping up something in the kitchen.
One show that I find myself losing hours of my day to is Barefoot Contessa, hosted by Ina Garten. In college, my roommates and I would even find ourselves missing class because we would lose track of time during Barefoot Contessa marathons. Sorry, Mom.
If you tune-in to this program you’ll most likely find yourself in the “Ina Trance” as well. She has a soothing, grandmotherly voice, lives lavishly in the Hamptons, has umpteen gay male besties, and throws extravagent “casual” lunches that would give some garden bridal showers a run for their money.
She also has a very feminine husband named Jeffery who she is constantly canoodling on-screen. I often find myself feeling sorry for Jeffery because Ina constantly orders this poor soul around and you can definitely tell she “wears the pants” as they say. Maybe he’s into that sort of thing, but Ina, you could try to be a little less bossy. “How easy is that?”
When she’s not busy emasculating her husband Jeffery, she is even mildly condescending toward those watching her show. She’ll say things to the audience like,
“If you can’t fly all the way to the south of France to hand-pick your own vanilla bean like I have.. store-bought is fine.”
Oh, thanks Ina. I appreciate you reminding me that I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth and us peasants will just end up using vanilla extract instead of hand-picked French vanilla bean. And to twist the demoralizing knife even deeper, she’ll even say something along the lines of,
“Now add two tablespoons of good shredded cheese from your local cheese market. Your cheese guy will know which is best.”
Let’s be real, “good” shredded cheese for me is the kind that is pre-shredded in a bag and is on sale at my local grocery store. And no Ina, I don’t have a “cheese market” near me let alone a “cheese guy” like you do, but I’d love it if you let me borrow yours sometime.
Three-hours later, you’ll be wondering:
a) Why you can’t just live in the East Hamptons.
b) Why none of your guy friends are keen on picking out flowers and linens for your super formal brunches you never have in your elaborate backyard garden.
c) If Ina owns any shirt that isn’t oversized and smock-like with a collar and buttons down the front.
d) Why you haven’t been counting how many times Ina describes an ingredient or flavor as “fantastic” because in 30 minutes she’s managed to say it at least 100 times.
e) Is it really already 7pm?! Damn you, Ina! How have you sucked me into your affluent world yet again?!
Even though you’ll feel she’s not only berated your social status multiple times, but basically flaunted her attractive table-scape decorating besties in front of you, you’ll still tune in whenever you see Barefoot Contessa is up next on Food Network because she’ll put you in a loathing trance. “How fantastic?” This woman is truly hypnotizing. And I’m not sure that is necessarily a good thing.
Believe it or not, I really do like the show. Maybe I’m just jealous she lives in the Hamptons and apparently doesn’t have to wear shoes. Am I crazy, or does anyone else notice these things about the show?