You may have heard; Guy Fieri, the prize winning wank who gives new meaning to the concept of over amplification with respect to the dumbing down of America, that takes even his predecessor Emeril Lagasse down a few notches - BAM! - has opened a new eatery in Manhattan's Times Square.
You may or may not have also chanced upon the New York Times review of said eating establishment - American Kitchen and Bar - that I am reluctant to identify as "restaurant". But in case you haven't, it was scathing. It was mercilessly and unrepentantly forthcoming with the kind of brutally honest, soul searching questions regarding this latest business installment that, to my mind, should have been raised about the man himself eons ago.
Never mind that he got his start as one of Food Network's "Next Food Network Stars". I'm sure he completed each challenge to great
affect effect. But above all, he proved to the powers that be over at the Food As Entertainment Network that he is as bold a cartoon character as Mickey Mouse, as flamboyant as Charo speed chugging margaritas at the local Chili's after hours, and about as intellectually equipped as the stool you'll place your overburdened arse cheeks on as you peruse the menu containing his ever questionable culinary masterworks.
It's no secret - since I wrote this post about how awesome my six year old found him at the time, that I'm not a fan, although my kids get all fired up about "Triple D". But that was so last April. My little guy is inching ever closer toward the seven year mark and finds Fieri's special brand of colorful communication and personal style to be...um...in his words?..."stupid and immature." Woah! That's a harsh assessment by anyone's standards, but coming from a first grader, it's downright...accurate.
The entire review reads like a game of 20 Questions - a particularly entertaining one, at that - where the subject is skewered like so many kabobs at an Athenian Gyro burn off.
I dunno...call me mean and nasty...call me a food snob...call me out because you love Guy's big bites...but it makes me smile. Somehow it makes me smile that kind of gluttonous toothy grin that only a Ramones fan suddenly finding himself witness to an epic tanking at a Mannheim Steamroller concert can appreciate.
Because, in my estimation at least, no matter how much culinary experience he's got, no matter what his training, this Guy is such a complete insult to anything even resembling great dining. I won't even say "serious" dining or "fine" dining. Bu that wouldn't even be an issue if Fieri weren't guilty of endlessly pontificating about the Sloppy Joes being "én pointe" and the delicate balance of sweet and spicy inherent in the acidic donkey sauce he manufactures.
Gimme a break.
I think we all know by now that the Food Network has passed over the main course of the early days which lauded instructional cooking to the current bastion of reality based competition meets "how it's made" meets "pimp your eatery" meets Iron Chefery, where Alton Brown has somehow allowed himself to be relegated from best, most entertaining and informative cooking show host to Network Talking Head. It's a sad thing, really. A sad thing to see Good Eats take a back seat to cheap eats. A sad thing to realize that a second channel (The Cooking Channel) had to be created to actually acknowledge the act of creating and warming one's food over an open fire, as it has been so unceremoniously carted away from the table like so many dirty dishes filled with half eaten tripe.
Dishes that eventually land on the tables of the endless sea of manufactured personalities trotted out by Food Network. Some of them quite deserving of their accolades (Cleveland hometown boy Michael Symon and Mesa Grill's Bobby Flay are but two examples) and some tap dancing their way through vaudevillian interpretations of the cookery equivalent to the obligatory rubber chicken joke (Rachael Ray, Paula Deen, her boys and too too many more to mention).
Guy Fieri, in all his bleached out, backwards shades, armband wearing, surfing culture over the hill Bad Boy stereotypical appeal is nothing more than a glorified loud mouthed amuse douche. Cashing in while checking out.
And finding himself...most certainly not "Off the hook".