That's actually an improvement from 2005, when CSPI found 90 percent of the ads were for junk food. Between 2005 and 2009 the industry began a self-regulatory program through the Better Business Bureau'sChildren's Food and Beverage Advertising Initiative (CFBAI), but CSPI says that self-regulation isn't working.
Like a bad community college class, two weeks of "Chef Academy" -- Bravo's latest experiment in food-competition/sexed-up reality show -- is starting to make us wonder why we signed up in the first place.
Actually, make that a bad community college class in L.A., where everyone seems like he or she is permanently out on an audition. Whether it's their "candid" confessions to the camera, their home lives or their googly eyed reaction shots, Jean Christophe Novelli's nine would-be culinary students all seem so practiced, so rehearsed, there's nothing left to chance, and even less at risk.
Case in point: Emmanuel Delcour, the Mick Jagger-with-a-six-pack Frenchman who sauntered onto the set last week, demanding to be given a shot in this would-be rarefied kitchen on the basis of his sheer "passion" for food. On this week's episode, he was revealed to be a recovering porn star named Jean Val Jean. (Any reference to the lead character of "Les Misérables" is purely intentional, we think.)
She was helping unload hams for Hosea Feed the Hungry in Atlanta on Monday, when she was hit in the face with a flying pork product.
"Oh, I didn't know it was being thrown," she says in the video.
Deen is no stranger to public humiliation. Earlier this year, her pants fell down during a demonstration at the Food Network South Beach Wine and Food Festival.
But like Miami mooning incident, Deen has quickly moved beyond Monday's pork fracas.
When Jeffrey Steingarten
wins an argument, we
all lose. Photo: Food Network.
Last night, the gloves came off in the battle for "Iron Chef" supremacy -- or rather, Jeffrey Steingarten's glasses came off. On the surface, this short, quick season has been building to a mano-a-mano showdown, between polarizing pastry master Jehangir Mehta and whomever rose to challenge him, in this case, ultra nice-guy Jose Garces.
But while they toiled over hot flames, under boiling klieg lights and in the haze of the prerequisite "Iron Chef" fog machine, we were watching the season's real battle come to a head: That's right, the one between behind the judges table, between haughty diva Donatella Arpaia and the toad-like food critic Steingarten.
If you've paid attention over the past few weeks, you've noticed the increasingly bitchy cat fights, the dismissive hand waves, and the incessant eye-rolling -- from both sides. But last night it reached a fever pitch.
If you thought these two could make it through a tuxedo-and-evening-dress finale without going for each other's jugulars, you were wrong. They couldn't even get through the initial round of the critique. It all started with Arpaia taking umbrage at Steingarten's comment that Mehta's buffalo steak in chocolate-wine sauce was too sweet, which in turn prompted a tongue-lashing: "Don't you criticize me!" Steingarten snapped.
During a discussion at the Food Network's recent New York City Wine and Food Festival, author, "No Reservations" host and professional leather jacket wearer Anthony Bourdain asked his fellow panelist, culinary wunderkind Chef David Chang, "Who chaps your ass?" Chang was quick to rake Guy Fieri over the coals, citing his "douche glasses," and "stupid f***ing armband," and went on to ask a gleefully obliging Bourdain to "catch me and kick me in the ass" should he ever find him similarly adorned. Chang went on to add, "I'm sure he's a swell fella." The crowd went wild.
Not 24 hours later, a "Saturday Night Live" skit portrayed the "Next Food Network Star" winner being pecked to death by birds.
So why are the cool kids picking on Guy?
I want to go to a party at Food TV superstar Guy Fieri's house. I imagine pyramids of glistening pork ribs and snow shovels full of hush puppies. I dream of patiently standing in line by the pool waiting for margaritas to be blasted into my open mouth by a fire hose while AC/DC blares over the loudspeaker.
You know what you're going to get with this dude. He's fun, entertaining and totally lacking in subtlety -- a one-man tailgate upon which nary a Michelin star shines. His contribution to the tired fusion trend was to awkwardly pair barbecue with sushi. He is who he is; now buy a book.
Martha Stewart says her five-month prison sentence cost her $1 billion.
Speaking with "Nightline," Stewart says the "legal mess" was devastating to her personal worth.
"Oh, it's inestimable -- probably more than a billion dollars, of course, and if you add in what the company was worth, absolutely," Stewart says. "And I'm a major shareholder in the company. When you are prosecuted in such a way and a great portion of wealth is dissipated, all I could think so much is 'What I could have done with all of that for the good of mankind?'"
"Nightline" followed Stewart for a day in a news piece that aired Thursday. In it, Stewart dishes on Rachael Ray as well as her 2004 legal troubles.
"I knew we had a really good thing going, and I really knew that I was not guilty of anything that could possibly harm my company," Stewart tells Cynthia McFadden. "I was pissed, OK? Pissed that something could actually affect that. The company had nothing to do with anything, but yet because I am the face and the brand -- my person -- it certainly had a harmful effect."
She says she's put that period of her life behind her.
"How can I kick myself?" she says. "There are other people to be kicked. Enough. Let's get on with the future."
Martha Stewart draws a stark contrast between her kitchen skills and those of Rachael Ray and surprisingly, Ray completely agrees.
Speaking with ABC's "Nightline" in an interview to air Thursday night, Stewart says what Ray does isn't good enough for her.
"To me she professed that she cannot bake," Stewart says of Ray. "She just did a new cookbook which is just a re-edit of a lot of her old recipes, and that's not good enough for me. I really want to write a book that is a unique and lasting thing -- something that will fulfill a need in someone's library. So she's different, she's more of an entertainer than she is -- with a bubbly personality -- than she is a teacher like me. That's not what she's professing to be."
When asked about Stewart's comments, Ray says "It's true. It's 100 percent true," but adds the criticism doesn't upset her.
"Why would it make me mad?" Ray says. "When it comes to producing a beautiful, perfect, high quality meal, I'd rather eat Martha's than mine too."
Who do you like better? Martha or Rachael? Spill it in the comments.
What's next for the final five contestants? Photo: Bravo
Come back, Natalie! O, Nigella, where art thou? After a couple of heavy-hitting, sweeps-month episodes, last night's "Top Chef" was, well, a little subdued.
With the albatross that was Robin finally gone, and five not-quite-equal cheftestants left, the mysteries left in the season are few. Will Jen get her mojo back? Will the brothers Voltaggio go at each other's throats, like we've been hoping they would all season? Will snarky Toby Young disappear for good, already?
Instead of high tension, we got slow-burn dread and buttoned-down critiques, not to mention portentous montages of the chefs getting dressed, sleeping, or, in the case of Kevin, hanging rosary beads around his neck.
While there was no Bobby Flay, the NBC's Meredith Vieira challenged celebrity domestic goddess Martha Stewart and her "Mile High Apple Pie" to an apple pie bake-off Wednesday morning on "The Today Show."
There were the obvious differences: Martha Stewart made her own pie crust while Meredith opted for a Flako pre-made version. Martha included lemon in her mile-high pie while Meredith did not. Meredith uses apple pie spice, Martha utilizes cinnamon.
One thing is similarly evident though between the rolling of the eyes and playful taunts, these two ladies were in it to win it.
Find out who won the Martha vs. Meredith apple pie bake-off and get the recipes after the jump.
Apparently, someone at Bravo decided they needed their very own Gordon Ramsay. And he needed to be, you know, sexy.
We know this, because on the series premiere of "Chef Academy," we were reminded about 20 times within the first 15 minutes of French chef-extraordinaire Jean Christophe Novelli's tall, dark and smarmy good looks. First by his right-out-of-central-casting flamboyant personal assistant, then by the contestants, then by the reference to a New York Times' survey naming him "The World's Sexiest Chef."
Personally, we think he looks like a cross between "Charles in Charge"-era Scott Baio and an aging Jon Lovitz, but beauty is in the eye of the network, apparently. What struck us most in this inaugural hour was "Chef Academy"'s weird mix of elements. Cooking-competition program, ridiculous-amateur freakshow and yuppie lifestyle catalog all converged to give Monday night's premiere one of those "Is this thing going to last?" vibes that it couldn't quite shake. To quote one of the student-contestants, "This isn't 'Top Chef'!" Don't we know it.
Donatella Arpaia
calling out the bullies.
Photo: Food Network.
Last night, we entered a world of pain on "The Next Iron Chef" -- quite literally. With only three chefs left in the competition, we no longer had to rely on the show's Ritalin-addicted cameramen or the barked commands of stoic "Chairman" Marc Dacascos to make us anxious. The misty, unforgiving environs of Tokyo seemed to be doing a fine job all on their own.
Never mind Jose Garces being shouted at by the fishmongers at the legendary Tsukiji fish market, or the now openly evil Jehangir Mehta announcing, "I'm not bothered by bringing other people down to make myself look better." We knew there was pain in the air last night from the very first, utterly geeky "Reservoir Dogs"-style shot of the three chefs walking down a rain-slicked street to get their latest assignment from Dacascos and host Alton Brown. We wondered: Why are they walking so slowly? And why is Seamus Mullen limping along in what appears to be utter agony?
Leave it to "TNIC" editors to have downplayed Mullen's ongoing struggle with rheumatoid arthritis until this late in the game. Whether or not the affliction had hindered him in previous episodes, we're not sure, but last night, attempting to run around both the market and the kitchen for several hours on end, it was clear he was suffering. Add to that the indignity of Mehta leaving the forever-temperamental ice-cream machine (when will you guys throw in the towel on that thing?!) in strategic shambles, and the damning comment of "Have you ever cooked rice?" from guest judge Dr. Hattori, and Mullen was having one of those Very Bad Days we all dread.
But more about that later. The challenge was to cook a five-course kaiseki -- a very formal meal composed of local, seasonal ingredients -- that reflected their own "integrity" as a chef. For Mehta this meant buying half of the food in the market and littering his serving trays with edible flowers ("I'm a happy person! I like beauty!"). Mullen may have dubbed it all "smoke and mirrors," but Mehta still managed to produce a fresh clam salad with chili flower that was a standout of the evening.
Jen, quit hating on yourself! Robin, what weird technique are you attempting now? Eli, get a clue! Was it just us, or was last night's "Top Chef" one of the most unexpectedly emotional, perversely suspenseful, scream-at-the-screen entertaining episodes in weeks?
By all indications, it shouldn't have been a standout night. Were there big surprises? No. Did the show's editors play up the usual themes -- "I miss my kids/significant other," "people misunderstand me as a chef," "this show will make or break what little reputation I have"? Of course. Are all the chefs who remain all equally deserving of the "Top Chef" title? Not at all.
Still, the show had a weird cumulative power, in large part because we've gotten to the point where we've invested a lot of time and faith into this motley crew. They may be burnt out by the sweltering Vegas sun and the even-more-searing comments of the judges, but we're not ready to see them throw in their aprons. So when Jen grumbled "I'm ready to go" before she was even called to the loser's circle, we wanted to stage a self-esteem intervention, stat.
Fast-food chain Carl's Jr. has stopped the ad campaign for its Chicken Parmesan Sandwich after Italian-American groups complained about the mafia-themed commercials.
The California Italian-American Task Force and the National Italian-American Federation praised Carl's Jr.'s parent company CKE for its decision not to buy more TV slots for the ads, which feature mobster and garbage man characters that critics said showed negative Italian-American stereotypes, Nation's Restaurant News reports.
In the ad, a man sits in his car eating the Carl's Jr. Chicken Parmesan Sandwich as marinara sauce drips out of his mouth and down his shirt. When two mafia goons approach the car, the man plays dead. Fooled by the sauce dotting his shirt like blood, they leave him alive assuming someone else killed him before they arrived.
"NIAF was pleased to see the positive steps taken by Carl's Jr. Restaurant to remove negative, inaccurate and unfair characterizations in their recent commercial advertisements," Jeff Capaccio, the group's regional vice president for the Far West, told the paper. "These advertisements only fuel further incorrect assumptions about an entire ethnic group."
Jingles are jaunty little hymns to hum while strolling down the aisles of the local temple of frozen pizzas, jarred cheeses, and fresh produce. These clarion calls of consumerism are designed to be simple, snappy, and infectious like swine flu. Beamed directly from the television to the frontal lobe, they are often more memorable than the products about which they're composed.
And that's what makes them so effective; you might not want that box of salty, over-priced flavored rice, but it's been scanned and bagged already. Why? Because you didn't even realize that your eyes had rolled into the back of your skull while you were whistling that product's happy little mind-controlling melody.
So we're celebrating some of the most important music our culture has ever produced -- tunes engineered to tickle the intersection of neural ganglia where pleasure and credit card impulses meet. We dare you to listen, remember and totally not catch yourself blurting them out later today, probably at an inappropriate time. Each of these jingles is cheesy, manipulative and one of them will probably be our dying words.
"Is there anything you'd like to say with your last breath?"
Chorus: "I want my baby back, baby back, baby back ribs." Why it's so catchy: It might just be the greatest tune that well-coiffed troupe of teen troubadours from yesteryear, 'N Sync, ever sang. This finger-snapping jingle stirs up excitement for what's essentially a plate of mealy pork bones slathered in sweet ketchup. It's funky, soulful and has the most addicting bass line in all of audio advertising. Imagine it being sung by a cross between Gregorian monks and a gospel choir.
Do you feel like chicken tonight? Betcha will, after the jump.
Dacascos and his suggestive brows.
Photo: Food Network.
It took a transpacific flight, but finally last night, "The Next Iron Chef" deviated from its status as a "Top Chef" also-ran and finally started getting ... weird. Or maybe it was just the goofy opening montage of our four remaining cheftestants standing in the busy rain-slicked streets of Tokyo, crossing their arms in slo-mo and acting all alpha-dog dominant.
In any event, the show is finally getting down to its high-stakes, high-drama Japanese roots after an extended period of trumped-up, low-stakes challenges in Los Angeles. Our trio of alternately grumpy and spunky judges have come along for the ride, and eyebrow-cocking "Chairman" Marc Dacascos is no longer beamed in via satellite to bark oblique commands to the chefs -- now he can do so in person!
This week's mission was the pursuit of umami, the Japanese concept of a so-called fifth flavor -- something beyond savory -- that seems to be everywhere these days. The word was mentioned about a zillion times in the course of last night's episode, and -- surprise! -- it just happens to be the current marketing catchphrase of "TNIC" sponsor Kikkoman, whose umpteen varieties of soy sauce were littered around the challenge kitchen. The umami theme also allowed host Alton Brown a moment to do what he does best: Explain all the geeky details of how soy sauce is made.
That food chemistry lesson out of the way, it was up to our remaining pro chefs to get down to the flavor at hand, a challenge made all the more confusing in the Hattori Nutrition College kitchen, replete with weird can openers, stoves operating in celcius and ice cream makers that seemed to deep-freeze their wares to a glacier-like consistency. Asked to fill five spots of a bento box each with a different rice-based dish, the foursome didn't need to engage in the usual reality-show sabotage -- the people who arranged the kitchen seemed to do that for them.
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