The Naked Chef (1999–2001)
Good cooking, Infuriatingly presented
24 February 2003
For some reason cookery shows have stopped being simply about good food and useful recipes and have started being used as a platform for peddling lifestyles and self-absorbed smug personalities (Think of Nigella Lawson and Tamasin Day-Lewis with their irritatingly upper-middle class attitudes to contemporary family life, where all the ingredients come from organic farms in the midlands and the 'local shop' is Harrod's food hall - 'I don't have much time in the evenings so it'll just be duck magrets in pomegranate molasses and saffron crab tartlets'). Jamie Oliver's manifesto is to make cookery hip and accessible in a sanitized way. Supposedly he's the boy every mother would want as their son, the guy the girls find cute and the lad the blokes can relate to enough to kindle an interest in the kitchen. In fact he's pretty much nothing more than an annoying pratt with a line in pseudo-cockney banter that grates rather than endeares. The recipes are fine, with his pedigree in restaraunt work I'd expect nothing less, but it's almost impossible to sit through the programmes due to the sheer embarrassment of being a member of the same species. Another negative aspect of the show is the directors prediction for oh-so-fashionable wonky camera

angles and shot's straight out of 'Sam Raimi's guide to aspiring film school students'. Instant migraine, just add aggravating background music and bits about his friends and family. WHO CARES ABOUT THESE PEOPLE?

Incidentally, he writes the books in exactly the same way that he talks. I never thought I'd read a recipe that referred to a chicken as 'a great blooming geezer of a bird'.
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