Cooking 101

Warning- This Blog rated PG-13 (brief verbal nudity and a tiny bit of crass humor.)

I really enjoy cooking and baking. On my own terms of course—that is, if no one is hungry or expects it or needs food right now—and watching Food Network is one place where I find some inspiration. However, I’ve noticed lately (as in the past few months) an increasing preponderance of boob-age on the shows. You’re feeling a tad uncomfortable. Yeah, me too. I thought at first it was only Semi-homemade, with Sandra Lee. My husband and I always referred to that show, as “Semi-homemade with Double-D” because every episode commands attention to not only semi-homemade food items, but also the fact that her boob-age is smashed beneath a tight fitting top, or blatantly swinging around in a tank (summer shows of course). In fact, now that I think about it, it’s probably good that so much of the show uses ready-made ingredients because it gives you extra time to stare at her rack instead of focusing on those pesky, time consuming recipes.

But it’s not simply Sandra D—excuse me, Lee. The boob-age continues with the new show Simply Delicioso with Ingrid Hoffman (I thought Ingrid was a German name, but apparently it can also be very Latin). My husband and I actually had to keep watching the trailer for the show because the space between her girls was so deep and dark, we thought we actually spotted a pitcher of margaritas, four glasses and a salt shaker in there. Delicioso indeed. (And an incredibly brilliant use of space.)

So, whatever. I passed off those examples as poor clothing choice made by two women who probably have a very difficult time finding shirts that don’t pull on their very large bosoms. It is difficult being buxom I’ve been told. So imagine my shock, when I tuned into 30 minute Meals and saw my sweet, innocent, very-very-smiley-girl-next-door Rachel Ray, and there she was. Black shirt cut down to there, her microphone clipped to the V (somewhere around her navel) and I was staring at breast tissue. No, not chicken breast tissue, which I expect, but Rachel Ray breast tissue which feels very, very wrong. Since Rachel is a bit less-well-endowed, every time she bends over to get a fresh bunch of celery from the fridge or stir her 5 minute roux, I get a big flash of breast, microphone and bra. Yes, even bra, which I’m a little shocked about because so much of her breast tissue is showing I’m not sure what is left to hold up.

So I flip from show to show. And yep, there’s Giada creating Everyday Italian boob recipes, and Nigella…her shows aren’t on very much but her chest is just as large. At this point it is clear to me that Network Exec’s are in charge of wardrobe and that these Execs are in fact men. (I could be wrong, perhaps they are women who are of the “women’s bodies are really art” opinion, in which case Food Network is cutting-edge artistic.) I suppose that I’m way off on the demographics, assuming that only women watch these shows. Because not too many women I know want to tune in for a great new way to make tuna casserole and also ogle at the chest we would like to have. Or used to have. Or can’t afford to have. (Let’s face it; good boobs are just not in the budget for most of us.) Perhaps the stay-at-home dad population is much larger than I imagined, or maybe on Saturday when the men of this nation are watching “sports,” it’s the sporting event of hoping that one of these women’s girls will suddenly fall out of the blouse and actually start stirring the stew.

But let’s be fair. If the Boob Network—excuse me, Food Network—is going to pimp-out their chefs for ratings and sexualize the cooking genre, then they really need to do it right. Poor Ina and Mama Dean got left out of the sexy shirt club, (presumably) because they are larger women. But I’d like to see Mama Dean in a spaghetti strap tank, or Ina in a tight-fitting deep-cut V neck, because dammit, those women have earned it. And don’t think that I have overlooked the fact that all of the male chefs on the show are fully-clothed. The network needs to even the playing field here. I’ve come up with some show ideas in case Food Network is experiencing “blank page syndrome.” How about, I’m Easy with Michael Chiarello, in which he prepares his meals sans shirt. Or having Alton Brown explain the chemical reactions in bread dough while prancing around the set in a Speedo. I'm sure Bobby Flay would be even better at the grill if he did it wearing nothing but a fireman’s jacket. I’m not trying to be opportunistic, just suggesting a little equality here. I mean, only using female bodies to inflate the bottom line sets us way back—we should be exploiting both sexes equally; roast leg of lamb isn't the same without it.