They're selling the sizzle and not the steak

I discovered our cable package provides more than sports and badly scripted sci-fi. Don't ask why it took me so long to find it, but there's an entire channel devoted to food. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. I imagined myself spending the entire day curled up on the sofa in my pajamas watching re-runs of Julia Child or The Galloping Gourmet. I still get shivers remembering how Graham Kerr poured a cup of red wine into a saucepan straight from the bottle, and then to prove his accuracy, emptied the pan into a measuring cup. He was spot on. I didn't blame him for taking a celebratory swig.

But instead of providing a platform for the new generation of masters to share their culinary secrets, this channel broadcasts dumbed down cooking lessons from "personalities" (I won't call them chefs until I Google their credentials) who rely on back up bands or walk you through a recipe like you're Helen Keller on Valium.

Unable to take Emeril seriously after being subjected to his toothpaste commercials, I decided to check out Rachel Ray. Supposedly she's down to earth. True, but in a trailer park sort of way. Now, Julia Child had a rather distinctive voice, but this woman sounds like she's been garroted. I suspect she talks this way after being half-throttled by an irate Italian pastry chef for her misguided creation she oh-so-perkily dubbed Tirami-sundae. Sorry Miss Ray, but vanilla ice cream is not a suitable substitute for mascarpone cheese any more than your recommendation to use this morning's left over coffee instead of freshly brewed espresso. After watching her host with all the subtlety of Don Cherry, I decided her 30 Minute Meals (which desperately needs a hyphen) were a half hour too long.

Next came The Everday Italian. Slightly better. Giada De Laurentis is calm, but talks to you like you're a dim witted pre-schooler. When peeling shrimp, she'll actually said things like "Don't be afraid to really get your fingers in there and pull." Like any cook worth their salt would be scared of a dead shrimp, jumbo or not. She makes pouring milk sound like a challenge most of us would fail if not talked through. After 15 minutes of instructions worthy of a remedial Home Ec class, I flipped back to Star Trek. At least William Shatner has a campy quality one can enjoy on a cult level.

I'm sure there are TV chefs who out there who won't grate on my nerves, but in the meantime, can't they at least fill one time slot with Julia Child hacking the head off a dead chicken? Now that was culinary entertainment.