My Dear John to RR

Dear Rachel Ray,

Enough is enough.

I have made the last of your food. Sure, you might be adorably cute and have one of those Julia Roberts runway-sized smiles and lovingly cute monikers for things as banal and extra virgin olive oil, but let's face it, your food is mediocre. The smothered kale and mushrooms? Bland! Even with extra garlic and high-powered Erin seasoning. Your citrus snapper? Terrible! And I love snapper in pretty much all forms -- what a heartbreaking waste of a good piece of fish! Even the garlic-laced broccoli with dried cranberries, which I was certain would be a winner, was undercooked and devoid of complex flavor. You even fucked up couscous! How is that even possible?

Yes, yes, I know. You're making food for the masses, the time-starved parents who work eight jobs and have twenty-nine children and still try to have an active sex life, but really? Is that an excuse? Giada can whip together any number of fantastic Italian dishes in the time it takes you to say "In the time it takes you...", so c'mon. Try a little harder, because when we were still in love, there was Hungarian Lentil Stoup, a poem-worthy concoction if their ever was one. Don't let it end there. No more flank steak. No more iceberg lettuce. No more travel shows that showcase that sugary little giggle that attempts to undermine your wealth of culinary knowledge. I'm ready to see you bust out with some all day souffle. Some Emeril-style flair, and not the TGIF pin-on flair mind you. I'm ready for us to get drunk on the good wines you always talk about; have you thought about a drinking on $20/day show? I could take you to some fine dives all across America. Just say the word.

Unforunately, though, as someone very stupid once said to me, I just can't fall head over heels in love you with, Rachel. But what's different in this situation? I think it is you and not me.

It was good while it lasted,
Erin

PS. On an unrelated note, Bean and Barley Soup, rocks my slow-cookin' world!