As in all her TV appearances, Giada De Laurentiis is just as charming, sweet and all around lovely as ever, and the many delectable Italian dishes she concocts often leave me salivating and gastronomically aroused. Yet I am still never able to actually enjoy her Food Network cooking series Giada at Home. The issue is not with Giada herself. By all means, I like her quite a lot and have yet to come across anyone who sincerely doesn’t.
The problem is the show’s context, the casual yet explicitly upper class manner in which De Laurentiis is presented. While fellow Food Network star Rachel Ray continues to bust out easy yet yummy meals in 30 minutes or less, and Sandra Lee saves her viewers both time and money on Semi-Homemade, we find Giada indulging in activities more often catered to the upper crust of society.
In one episode she converts her home to an art gallery for one night and prepares an array of food for her guests to enjoy as they peruse the artwork. When it comes to more casual fare, Giada doesn’t merely invite her friends over for lunch, but plans a “spa day” which includes personal massages in the backyard between Giada’s trips to the kitchen to fetch her healthy homemade treats. And it appears Giada’s idea of tailgating is having a light brunch as she lounges on the sidelines of a polo match with her girlfriends.
The show is so blatantly white collar, with a splash of an “I’m carefree and live in a world with no consequences” attitude, it almost makes me lose my appetite for Giada’s so elegantly prepared food.
It’s certainly no secret that the vanities of the upper echelon are of immense interest to us mere mortals in the lower 99 percent, particularly the average TV viewers. From Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous in the 1980s, to MTV’s Cribs, Fashion Police, Keeping up with the Kardashians and many more, Giada’s gazing out over the ocean from her backyard as she munches on some delicately made Italian tart with homegrown herbs hardly makes her out to be some hedonistic snob.
However for a show meant to relate so closely to the viewer, that says, “This is how I cook; this is how I live; and this is how you can do the same,” the leisurely upper class atmosphere is quite off-putting. The audiences that can best relate to Giada at Home aren’t the type to watch the Food Network and eagerly bookmark the recipes online. They are the type attending one of Giada’s many parties, the type who don’t need to copy these recipes because they have personal chefs to cook for them.
While glossy sports cars with jaw-dropping prices make for a more interesting show on a program like Cribs, it’s obvious that Giada by no means purposefully flaunts her wealth. But her welcoming, friendly demeanor is both a blessing and a rather annoying curse. She comes across almost as if she’s completely oblivious to the fact that the majority of the population does not live like this.
Unlike Giada, preparing gourmet finger food for a get-together I’ve decided to hold for my fashion designer friends so they can show off their collection of work is laughable it is so ridiculously farfetched. Hopefully the creative team behind Giada at Home, and not De Laurentiis herself, is the main source to blame for this uncomfortable difference in classes perceived from the show. Either way, I may flip the channel should her cooking show appear on TV, but it’s inevitable that I will continue to indulge in Giada’s recipes. I can only hope that one day she is able to come down to reality and the common people’s kitchen from those ocean-side California hills.
Newburg 342 