Friday, October 6

Take That Bill Buford

_39334039_buford_body203Bill Buford is tough. Tough enough to hang out with English football hooligans. Tough enough to brave Mario Batali's kitchen. But especially, tough enough to watch a mind-numbing three straight days of the Food Network. His verdict? The FN has weeded out true chefs like Batali in favor of dumbed-down purveyors of mediocrity like Rachel Ray. If the FN were a food, Buford essentially argues, it would be pap.
The shows made now are full of exacting, intimate, amplified, and exaggerated beauties. (It’s not erotic, I can confirm — that’s not why it’s called food porn. It’s just unreal. You will never meet a Playmate of the Month; you will never eat the red, juicy tomato that you see on “Barefoot Contessa.”)
But wait a minute...Not erotic? What about the bodaciously posh Nigella Lawson, England's beloved "yummy mummy," who slathers olive oil on a raw shoulder of lamb in a manner reminiscent of a back alley masseuse, with a wicked glimmer in her eye that makes you think that maybe, just maybe, there may be a happy ending in your future?

NigellaSlate TV critic Troy Patterson notes that Buford "obviously hadn't seen Lawson make guacamole."
Or even heard her say "guacamole." In the first episode of Nigella Feasts, working on a side dish for her cornbread-topped chili con carne, she endowed the word with illicit implications, pronouncing it with the roundest O imaginable, as if the sound itself might ripen the fruit. O, avocados! Having scooped them into a bowl, Lawson first reflected on the succulence of their flesh, then got down to business "massacring the avocados with [her] masher." She mashed without pity. "Hmm—disturbingly satisfying!" she moaned. You want me to put my chips in that?

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