Before my parents revoked our cable subscription, the Food Network channel was a staple of my childhood. The family-friendly cooking channel was always on TV; on weekends, episodes of “The Pioneer Woman” ran back to back, and I binged “Diners, Drive-ins and Dives” every time I finished my homework early. Food Network taught me the basics of cooking, from the correct technique of zesting lemons to the proper way to fillet a fish. But what makes each Food Network show special is the hosts — the ability of celebrity chefs to share their love of food with an audience, and the ways they present themselves bring uniqueness to the channel.
Here, I present an unofficial list of the most prominent Food Network hosts from my time watching the channel, ranked from worst to best.
Bobby Flay
My first encounter with Bobby Flay was in a rerun of an original “Iron Chef” episode from 2000 in which he was a contestant. Flay challenged chef Masaharu Morimoto to a battle over rock crab. Upon finishing his dish, Flay stood up on his cutting board and pumped his fists in an egregious display of showboating. He went on to lose the battle. My 8-year-old self did not fully understand what a “douchebag” was, but I knew that Flay was one.
It’s unfortunate that Flay makes this list — I wish that he did not exist and that people who don’t know who Flay is would never come to know him. But my hatred for the man and everything he does outweighs my urge to erase him from relevance. He says idiotic things like, “Barcelona is like Paris, but with Latin flavor.” His juvenile, shit-eating grin says, “Can you ‘Beat Bobby Flay’? No, you can’t.”
Obviously, Flay is talented at what he does — he dropped out of high school and made his way from Baskin-Robbins to the French Culinary Institute. But there is no reason for “Beat Bobby Flay” to exist. Plenty of chefs are satisfied enough with their reputation that they don’t need to host a show where the objective is to beat them in a cooking competition. How much joy does Flay receive from gracelessly embarrassing amateur chefs? The humble, down-to-earth attitude of the ideal TV personality does not exist in Flay — Flay must always win. He craves to win.
Rachael Ray
Rachael Ray’s success runs deep. She was the official celebrity endorser of Dunkin’ Donuts, the nominee of 16 Daytime Emmy Awards and winner of two, and she popularized the acronym “EVOO,” short for extra-virgin olive oil.
I see her everywhere. I see her in magazines by the checkout line at the grocery store. Twice a day, I look at her grinning face while feeding my cat (I still get embarrassed when I have to tell the veterinarian that I feed my cat Rachael Ray Nutrish Indoor Select Premium Cat Food). I understand why Ray is popular — she has a bubbly, down-to-earth, “beer girl” persona. Her recipes swap the stringent instructions of a culinary school graduate for “half palmful,” “scant palmful” and “fat palmful” measurements. But something about her rubs me the wrong way. Her “I’m just like you” gimmick makes me feel like Ray doesn’t think her audience is capable of more than the basics.
Anthony Bourdain summarized my feelings about Ray best, saying, “Rachael uses her strange and terrible powers to narcotize her public with her hypnotic mantra of Yummo and Evoo and Sammys.”
Ray is possibly the most commercially successful chef on this list. I applaud her ability to promote realistic home cooking without any formal culinary training. But Bourdain is right; Ray’s “30 Minute Meals” implies that mediocrity is the fate of amateur home chefs.
Robert Irvine
Because Gordon Ramsay is not a Food Network chef, Robert Irvine takes Ramsay’s hypothetical spot on this list. That’s all Irvine is good for. A surrogate Ramsay — a large British man who yells. But Irvine doesn’t have much in common with Ramsay beyond that. He’s not an artist in verbal insults and has never said “Yankee dankee doodle shite” or called someone an “idiot sandwich.” Irvine did start his cooking career in the U.K.’s Royal Navy, which may explain his crew cut, beefy demeanor and proclivity to raise his voice.
I know Irvine best from his restaurant makeover show “Restaurant: Impossible.” The episodes are generally entertaining for the first half, in which Irvine reacts to gross food or an ugly interior. Sometimes he’ll barge into the kitchen and urge the staff to “shut it down!” because the restaurant is so gross that he can’t take it. These outbursts are the peak of the show’s entertainment, but for the rest of each episode, Irvine takes on a gentle giant demeanor, which is boring.
I’m convinced Irvine is only famous because he reminds Americans of a buff Gordon Ramsay. Besides his own line of protein bars, Irvine doesn’t have much more to offer.
Ree Drummond
Ree Drummond, host of “The Pioneer Woman,” is Food Network’s only ranch wife, who married into the wealthy Drummond ranching family. I have no interest in eating her food, and I don’t think it looks appealing, but this woman knows how to curate a vibe. Scenes of Drummond cooking usually cheese- or butter-heavy food are interspersed with aerial shots of her husband and kids riding horses in a field.
“The Pioneer Woman” makes me want to spend a day working on the ranch, just so I can come home to Drummond’s traditional southwestern kitchen and eat biscuits and gravy. Ladd and the kids are lucky.
Guy Fieri
I feel like I know Guy Fieri personally. It’s possible that I have watched more episodes of “Diners, Drive-ins and Dives” than most other TV shows.
Fieri clearly enjoys his job — he loves bringing attention to small-town restaurants and he loves sticking his fingers in food. His personality is over the top, but there is no denying that Fieri has a genuine love for the industry and is a positive influence on the restaurants he visits. During COVID-19, Fieri helped raise millions for struggling restaurant workers.
Everything about his personal brand, from his spiky frosted tips to his “Trash Can Nachos” to his signature donkey sauce, just makes sense. Guy Fieri is a national treasure.
Ina Garten
Ina Garten’s “Barefoot Contessa” is a dreamlike immersion into an alternate reality disguised as a follow-along cooking show. The planet could be on fire, and Garten would remain in her rustic East Hampton estate — bob intact — preparing a roast chicken for her husband, Jeffrey.
Garten isn’t like other Food Network hosts. She isn’t loud, bombastic or full of herself. Her personality is maternal and sharp, like a witty wine mom. Garten will humbly present her perfect farmstand herbs but assure the audience that “store-bought is fine” (with only a small amount of motherly searing disappointment).
The “Barefoot Contessa” contains multitudes; before Garten was the host of her own show, she worked for the White House as a budget analyst for nuclear energy. What else is she hiding? What kinds of big secrets are in her 500-square-foot wine cellar? Her coastal grandmother aesthetic both comforts me and fills me with unease. I love Ina Garten because I can’t tell if I want to live her life or if I’m terrified of her.
Managing Arts Editor Laine Brotherton can be reached at laineb@umich.edu.