“Change ain’t lookin’ for friends.”
— Buckaroo Banzai
About 73 percent of my life has changed direction in the past three weeks, so I changed the blog too. I thought about dropping it, but writing becomes a habit after a few decades. So here it is, for what it’s worth. Still.
What a friend we have in changes.
I was watching Emeril last week. He was deep into his holiday gig, but letting his sharper edges show …
as Manhattan Transfer doot-doodled on the side. Letting that Commander’s Palace expediter temper spill a little acid on the stove.
Here is one hell of a cook who created a one-hour world of sophisticated food and music, but apparently outlived his usefulness. And went the way of Mario.
Emeril took the Food Network from nothing to something in 10 years. His raucous charm broke down technical kitchen work into bite-size pieces, and he knew how to rock an audience. Yeah, he got over-sold, and over time his shtick grew stale.
And the new improved Food TV is mostly home-ec, a comfy place where Rachael Ray can add a package of This or some frozen That and make Yummo in 30 minutes.
So except for the food pornography of Iron Chef, there are few style points on what was once the Foodie Channel. I wonder how long Alton Brown and Paula Deen will be welcome there.
But hey, Emeril?