Most shows that feature respected chefs create a kind of aura around the figurehead, making him or her seem untouchable. Chef Ramsay on “Hell’s Kitchen” is downright fearsome. This kind (and most kinds) of chef knows what he or she is doing and doesn’t want to be questioned, interrupted or challenged. Food Network’s “Private Chefs of Beverly Hills” takes this stereotype and pulls a 180 — the chefs aren’t the ones to be feared here, the clients are. Clients meaning the rich, know-it-all, Botox-addicted, puppy-lugging zombies of Beverly Hills, USA.

"Private Chefs of Beverly Hills"

Fridays at 10 p.m.
Food Network

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The pilot followed three teams of two chefs, each sent on private chef duty for a terrifying event: a doggy debutante, a Botox party and a glam camping trip (i.e. glamping, duh?). The show could really go on without the private chefs entirely — the ridiculous Beverly Hills parties are enough to entertain. At every job, the private chefs weren’t revered for their talent or knowledge, but condemned and tossed around by the clients.

“Private Chefs” is less of a cooking show and more of a lifestyle feature, and it doesn’t fit into the respectable mold of shows like “Top Chef” and “Hell’s Kitchen.” Because the chefs don’t make the rules, the cooking takes second place to Beverly Hills culture, which dashes with Food Network's ostensible goal for the show: to give a glimpse into the wide varieties of professional home cooking.

Chefs Stuart O’Keeffe and Brooke Peterson were sent to the Botox party, where the ageless host poo-pooed the trio soup appetizer and reminded her private chefs that some of her Botoxed guests wouldn’t be able to open their mouths very wide. Chef Brooke told the camera in response to her rejected soup that every chef knows Botox is made from botulism, “and botulism is what happens when mayonnaise is left on the counter.” Not quite the zinger she was hoping for, as the Botox host later squinted at Peterson's forehead and offered a free treatment.

It’s not exactly fun to watch the role of chef and client get completely reversed. “Private Chef” manages to hold attention for its full hour spot, but instead of illustrating the impressive menus and presentation from private chefs, it reminds us how pathetic and snobby people who hire private chefs are. The group of five or six men who went “glamping” was almost too much to handle. After complaining about a cold appetizer that was meant to be cold, the men “roughed it” and actually caught two trout, which they then demanded be cooked alongside the Apricot Glaze Cornish Game Hen.

“Private Chef” should be a disappointment to chefs everywhere. As they say in some of the best kitchens, sometimes the client isn’t always right; but on “Private Chef of Beverly Hills,” the clients are the alpha dogs and the chefs are the … bitches. Sometimes the truth hurts just as much as trying to eat after a Botox injection. Sorry, Beverly Hills!