Relaxing with food on TV

When I get done with a hard day of writing, researching and trying not to think about the… When I get done with a hard day of writing, researching and trying not to think about the self-destructive, right-wing tilt this country has taken, nothing helps me relax like lying back on the couch, cuddling up with my girlfriend and watching three blissful hours of The Food Network.

As its name indicates, The Food Network is a cable channel dedicated entirely to the preparation and enjoyment of food. Six months ago, I had never watched the network, but six months ago I was not dating Amanda, a full-fledged Food Network fanatic.

Initially, my girlfriend’s fondness for the network puzzled me. Why would any young, physically fit person enjoy a network geared toward bored homemakers and people with asses that take up three bus seats?

But I discovered that picking up pastry-decorating tips and drooling at obvious money shots of succulent pot roasts are not the only reasons to watch The Food Network. Another reason is seeing how a network stretches one subject into 24 hours of programming.

One example is “Semi-Homemade Cooking with Sandra Lee,” in which Lee explains how to make meals that, while taking only minutes to prepare and containing store-bought ingredients, taste like they came from Mom’s kitchen. I call it “The Lazy Ass’ Guide to Deceiving Your Guests.”

Another Food Network show is “Chocolate with Jacques Torres,” in which Torres explains how to use the tasty, brown sweet to build “edible artwork,” such as candy murals and chocolate statues. Watching this show is the most fun I’ve ever had with an overexcited candy addict since I snorted pure crystallized sugar with Willy Wonka and we pistol-whipped some Oompa Loompas.

Another show, “$40 a Day,” features hostess Rachael Ray visiting various cities and dining out for breakfast, lunch and dinner, spending only $40. It’s fun to watch Ray bargain-hunt across Las Vegas or New Orleans, knowing that, if given the same challenge, I would make noon and evening trips to Taco Bell and then spend $32 at a bar.

The network also has “Emeril Live,” starring the burly cook Emeril Lagasse, known for yelling “Kick it up a notch!” or “Bam!” after doing something inventive to a recipe. My girlfriend also enjoys Emeril, but she gets strangely annoyed when I use his trademark phrases in the bedroom.

But the Food Network’s best show is the surreal Japanese import “Iron Chef,” in which the world’s top chefs attempt to out-cook the show’s Iron Chefs — costumed, poker-faced masters of various national cuisines (Iron Chef French, Iron Chef Japanese, Iron Chef Chinese, etc.). The show is known for its grandiose music, flamboyant host, extravagant “Kitchen Stadium” set and for being the only cooking show for which you could conceivably market action figures.

As diverse as the Food Network’s hosts are, each has an obsessive, yet calm and composed, dedication to usually benign domestic activities. The underlying message of the network is that even in a time of war, uncertainty and cultural division, if we put enough Martha Stewart-ish creativity into our day-to-day lives, the world isn’t so stupid and crappy after all!

Before I became a Food Network addict, I watched cable news and all I saw were people fighting over politics. There are a variety of people on the Food Network but none acts like Bill O’Reilly. Emeril would never call someone a socialist, Rachael Ray would never scream at a guest to shut up, and Iron Chef Chinese and Iron Chef French never come after each other with spatulas — even though that would be pretty freaking cool.

In turbulent times such as these, the quaint and inviting Food Network serves up a heaping plateful of comfort food.

After weeks of constant viewing and harmonizing with the Tao of The Food Network, I began to think that the network was peaceful and wondrous and had no dark underside. But then I realized that most of its commercials are for weight-loss centers and laxatives.

Oh, well. Nothing’s perfect.

E-mail Nick Keppler at pnk6@pitt.edu.