First the bad news, this is not Vera’s recap. Plus the rest of the bad news, The Pioneer Woman show remains an affront to the culinary world. The good news, if Twitter is any gauge, this show’s dying on the vine as tweets during it have fallen off dramatically. Ree’s paid tweeters must be sleeping on the job.
We got a twofer from the Pioneer Woman yesterday. Not only is Ree the poster child for Redneck cuisine, she’s an equally bad parent.
Didn’t we already know that? More about this later.
It’s a good thing we recorded this episode because I attempted to hammer out a recap while this unwatchable monstrosity aired. Maybe I’m ADD, but I found myself flipping back and forth to Rick Bayless on my local PBS channel, a genuine cooking show hosted by a trained professional, one far superior to most anything on Food Network. And although I have done it many times, it’s been a while since I actually watched the Pioneer Woman in its entirety.
Saturday’s episode started with absolutely nothing related to cooking. First, we saw the Pioneer Woman driving her daughter to a home school event at Cyndi “I’m the Judge’s wife, Hyacinth” Kane’s house. Things quickly cut to Ree abiding her grocery-challenged audience with a shopping tutorial on how to place iceberg, carrots, onions and pre-peeled garlic in a cart. Do you suppose that pre-peeled shit still makes Ree feel all urban?
The Pioneer Woman Shopping Tutorial
Five minutes in and still nothing remotely resembling cooking. Ree, who’s apparently testing her acting chops, feigns unconvincingly that she rarely purchases Pillsbury Cookie Dough. The brief shot of the Pioneer Woman’s backside that follows…well, let’s just say we think Ree doth protest a wee bit much.
Trust Us, The Pioneer Woman Never, Ever Eats Pillsbury Peanut Butter Cookie Dough
Next, things cut to Marlboro Man and the kids pruning prairie bushes after which we finally get to the Pioneer Woman’s Swing-Away kitchen. We see the PW shredding cheddar cheese, yet last week, she couldn’t be bothered to grate fresh Parmesan. As she slices cucumbers she breaks into a lame narrative about cedar bushes and why ranchers have to prune them. Glad Vera was off this weekend–now I can file that useless information away for all my future ranching needs.
Next Ree begins her usual diatribe, something she refers to as her salad bar philosophy, about how the family goes to restaurants and only consumes iceberg as opposed to the “fancy lettuces Mom likes.” Again, from the brief shot of Mom’s rear end, it doesn’t look like those “fancy lettuces” actually ever make their way onto Ree’s plate.
For the salad-bar-challenged, Ree demonstrates in excruciating detail how to chop iceberg, place it on a platter and top it with sliced cukes, carrrots, shredded cheddar and sunflower seeds. More news you can use for your next trip to the salad bar.
Now eleven minutes in, we see the Pioneer Woman sawing away at boneless, skinless chicken thighs for one minute before they cut to scenes of her thirsty boys lying on the ground having a refreshing drink of filthy pond water. Of course, whenever we travel with the kids and they’re thirsty, we always pull over at the nearest pond. We especially like the ones full of agricultural run-off, the more fecal matter, the better. Ah hell, what’s a little E. Coli, Listeria or Salmonella as long as the kids stay hydrated.
The Pioneer Woman’s youngest son drinks from the ranch pond.
For someone who asks her audience to suspend disbelief and pretend she hauls a literal buffet out to the middle of the prairie on a daily basis, are we now supposed to believe she’s incapable of filling an Igloo water cooler with fresh, sanitary drinking water for her family? Or how about some bottled water? Is Food Network now endorsing dirty pond water as something appropriate for human consumption?
Back to the kitchen where Ree’s imparting even more invaluable culinary tips. As she turns the chicken thighs, she proclaims that flipping them over will allow the other side to brown. Well, knock me over with an effing feather. Are you freaking kidding me, I had no earthly idea both sides would actually cook if they were turned.
At this point guys, I stopped watching. Vera deserves an award for getting through 30 minutes of this crap each week. Watching staged scenes of bush pruning, kids drinking unsafe, manure-contaminated pond water interspersed with the orange-hair Pioneer Woman, wearing a toile shirtain, using every convenience product she can find and calling it cooking–I can’t take it anymore. This show belongs on Country Music Television not the Food Network.
If anyone’s interested enough in seeing how this train wreck ends, here’s a spoiler, it involves slicing a tube of Pillsbury Peanut Butter cookie dough. If you’re still dying to watch a show that has little to do with actual cooking, I’m sure you can catch it in reruns this week.