In my first year composition classes, specifically ENG102, I introduced students to the basic structure of an argument by having them write an essay about anything they liked or didn’t like. What mattered is that they could support that opinion with 2-4 reasons, which were in turn supported by actual evidence. Some students addressed current issues (legislation against bully breeds came up every class) and some students went the pop culture route (I once received an 18-page exploration of all the virtues of Lady Gaga).
So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when someone turned in a clumsy, but organized draft about why Guy Fieri was the best. That was the thesis, too, by the way: Guy Fieri is the best because he loves life, he appreciates food, and he has a great car. Bam – three reasons why.
It’s really easy to stop and laugh a little here. Guy Fieri has pretty much solidified his place in American culture as a spiky haired punch line. While the rest of us can’t believe why he’s on TV, list people who hate him, and accuse being antisemitic and untrained, this student wanted to sincerely – this needs to be stressed sincerely – wanted to praise him and make the argument that he was the best.
The essay was a little odd, but as we talked about the draft one night in class, I asked the student if she could think about expanding on what being the best is.
“It’s just… the best. He’s the best. He loves life. He’s all in.”
“Ok, so maybe if we made a list of words that define ‘best’ that could help. It feels like there is room to get more specific in this thesis. One person’s definition of ‘best’ may differ from another.”
Silence.
“But Guy Fieri is just the best. There’s no other way to say it.”
Here is a good place to stop for a little aside. Most instructors of first year composition courses don’t ever picture themselves there. It isn’t usually a destination people see as part of their career goals. I was originally certified to teach middle and high school English, but bell schedules and the general shittiness of the job made it unappealing. We had MFAs who were probably expecting to actually write for a living, and there were other various English graduate degree holders who thought they would end up teaching graduate students who also love literature, or at least 400-level courses to undergrads. No one sees themselves sitting at a table with someone talking about how to best write a Guy Fieri thesis statement. Yet here we all are.
“You mention how he loves life, so maybe we could talk about positivity?” I suggested, both to help my student and to try to bring a meaningful theme into what would otherwise be a 3-page tribute to Guy Fieri that I would have to read in a week.
“Well of course,” she said as she looked at me like I was an idiot. “He’s so great because he loves life and has a positive outlook. I wish I had that!”
“A positive outlook?”
“Yeah.” This was the opening. She then revealed that when she was still in the midst of her drinking problem, her depression tended to be worse. Watching Guy Fieri be Guy Fieri helped her battle that depression. His love of life, energy, and passion flitted out through her television and transferred into her just a bit. Just enough to get and stay sober, even though that was a daily struggle.
And I get that.
Not Guy Fieri, not him at all, but when I am feeling particularly anxious or down, I find comfort in cooking shows as well. I prefer the calm and measured ones you will find on PBS Create. I can’t deal with the flying cleavers and quick cuts most Food Network shows have. But I’ll take 30 minutes of Ming Tsai doing anything. There is something calming about watching people work their way through making a dish. Eating is a universal truth. As Martha Stewart explains different methods for working with potatoes, I feel the comfort and nourishment and calm through my tv, the same way my student followed Guy Fieri’s flame-patterned shirts to higher ground in the darkness of her mind.
While there was room to pivot into an essay about the value of cooking shows in mental health (how wonderful that would have been), I ended up with an essay about how Guy Fieri is the best because of his positivity, as evidenced through his hair, fashion, car, attitude, catch phrases, and recipes. The final essay was organized and supported enough to get some sort of B, I’m sure, but I suppose the heavy lifting of connecting cooking shows to mental health is on the rest of us.
First, there is comfort in the predictability. If you have seen one cooking show, you have the format for them all. A little intro, some ingredients, the process, the tasting, and repeat depending on what is going on in that episode. Lidia Bastianich gives you a little checklist before she starts and after each recipe. Martha does the same thing in her cooking school show. No surprises, nothing to interrupt your peace, such a comfort in a world that is nothing but surprises and interrupted peace.
Cooking shows are also totally meditative. Not only the predictability of the format, but the gliding of knives and other utensils. Things sliding in pans. This is ASMR-relaxing sort of stuff. To watch a cooking show on Create is to slide into the rhythm of these movements and sounds. And as you do so, it’s impossible to not be present and mindful. This is more true when cooking in real life, which takes you out of whatever other mindset you may be in. However, I know I always sink into the shows as the pros engage with their work. There is no room to think about anything else, and there are far worse things to marinate your brain in than Pati’s Mexican Table.
They also are fulfilling and nourishing as food is. We need to eat, and even witnessing the act of preparing food creates a feeling of having done it yourself – or at least as if you are able to.
Whenever my daughter wants to barter a later weekend bed time, she asks if she can just watch a little Create. I always agree because I know this will lull her to sleep in about ten minutes. It isn’t that it is boring, it’s just that it is calming.
So like my student, I turn to these shows in my own times of need.
Sometimes when I’m deep into an episode of America’s Test Kitchen (which is my favorite of the Create lineup) I think about my student and Guy Fieri. Is still keeping her afloat? I try to remember the names of the Test Kitchen’s food and product recommendations, while also keeping their perfected recipes in my to-do list. The work of this is taking me out of my worry. And so I hope that for my student, Guy Fieri’s hair is also pointing the way out.
Melissa Sharpe 