As most families do on three day weekends, my family had a cook-out. And as most families have, a certain amount of discord could be felt. It originated in the kitchen, migrated towards the grill, and settled at the table. The cause (and this everyone agreed on) was Rachael Ray. Does America's beloved and best-selling cookbook author know the agony she brings to dinner tables? If she did, she would certainly stop--unless she is hell-bent on pushing cookbooks for her career in exchange for the destruction of the American family. (The first guess may be correct--she doesn't even shell out the dosh for pictures in her books).
My sister likes the quick and relatively simple recipes (365 and no repeats!); her husband admired the gumption of putting sour cream on steak. My father had his own professional reasons for not liking her; Bri likes cooking powers to be used for good as embodied by Nigella, Giada, and Ina.
As for me, I found that redoing Ashlee Simpson's song "L.O.V.E." eased the tension. Try it: E V E V E V E V O O I'm talking 'bout Etc.
And as for the food itself, we all ate it and that settled the question better than any debate.
