Saturday, March 5, 2011
You see, as a long time watcher of Food Network (and I mean long time, like Nina Griscom and David Rosengarten long time), I was an early hater of Bobby Flay as a TV personality. I would watch Hot Off the Grill and cringe at what seemed to be a smarmy, arrogant presentation style. Similarly, Grillin and Chillin seemed like a lot of territorial pissing between him and his cohost, Jack McDavid and there was something condescending in the way that he treated him. This was probably all part of the intended shtick, but it was lost on me.
Because of these early offerings, I had a bad taste in my mouth for him and his cooking. Intellectually, I understand that his TV presentation style has nothing to do with the man's ability to cook. I mean this guy is obviously a baller when it comes to rockin' a skillet. There's no doubt about that. However, as unfair as it may seem, my perception of him as arrogant and self-important, tainted my willingness to give his food a try. However, all of that has changed for me, thanks to two things - The Borgata and Throwdown.
The Food Network has thrown shows at Bobby Flay like a conventioneer throws dollars at a Vegas stripper, and as I mentioned, not all of those offerings have been what I would call "favorites". But with Throwdown, there is a kinder, gentler Bobby Flay, one who seems humble and not afraid to lose to what is often a less trained, less experienced cook, who does one thing REALLY WELL. There is a sense of reverence for his opponents and what they do and a genuine good-naturedness about the process, including the losses. This exposes Flay as something that he has probably been all along, but I missed the cues - a fan of good food.
The second thing that has me on the Bobby Flay love train is Flay Steak at the Borgata. I would choose his
PHILADELPHIA STYLE STRIP STEAK with provolone cheese sauce, caramelized onions, along with his delectably decadent sweet potato gratin as my last meal. Now, I'm not gonna say that being housed in my favorite casino is working against him in my gustatory gaganess, but I am pretty sure that I'd endure a sh1thole casino like the Claridge, if it housed Flay Steak.
So here I am, on the precipice of putting sugar to pan for the caramel sauce that laces Mr. Flay's Peanut Butter Caramel Brownies and despite my improved attitude toward and patronage of Mr. Flay, I hesitate. I even bought some of his bowls from Kohls. What gives?
I think it's just the fear looking like a hypocrite. When I was a hater, I was a vocal hater. Now that I'm a lover, I think it only fair that I be a vocal lover as well. So Mr. Flay, this is my mea culpa. My opportunity to level the playing field and show you the outward respect that you so rightly deserve. To admit to being a judgemental bitch in your beginning days on TV and to praise your evolution as a legitimate and skillful television presenter. Now that I have exercised my "woman's right" to change my mind and offered up my sincere aplologies, it's time to rock the sh1t outta your Caramel Peanut Butter Brownies, cause . . .DAMN!