I enjoy watching Rachael Ray. Yeah, she’s over-the-top with the cute and bubbly schtick, but I actually find it kind of endearing. (Besides, I can’t point any fingers at people for making orgasmic noises over food.) She also makes recipes I’m likely to attempt instead of stuff that looks great but daunting as some of the TV chefs do.
I don’t trust scrawny cooks, and she looks like she’d crack if you leaned on her wrong.
Nigella is far sturdier. She’s voluptuous in the way that most men mean when they say they like “voluptuous” women (as opposed to the euphemism self-applied by women who are in fact merely fat).
Rachel Ray? Eh. She’s the chick from out-of-town you’d hook up with as the keg party winds down and options dwindle. The next morning her voice is like a sandpaper siren in your throbbing head, and you swear to yourself you’re going to stop drinking so goddamn much as you give her a fake phone number and pretend to write down hers.
Nobody actually gives a shit about what these women cook, right? I mean it isn’t just me.
I note recipes and buy Rachel’s cookbooks. Some of us are capable of overcoming our baser instincts.
At least for a moment. 
Wait. She’s got a head? 
Yeah, okay, used to call her “Little Big Head,” but since she’s got the girls cinched up and on display since a while back, the lollipop head isn’t as distracting. For some reason.
Actually, RayRay could stand with some wardrobe help from Giada. Nigella, of course, needs not.
Is it true that television sets were not equipped with mute buttons until 30 Minute Meals premiered?
This statement made me finally realize what her grimace reminds me of.
Remember that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark when the Ark was opened and ghosts came out? And one ghost looked like a pretty girl, only it turned into a frightening snapping skull?
That’s what her grin reminds me of.
Meh, she couldn’t hold Alton Brown’s jock strap. Not that she’d want to. But the fact that she’s freakin’ everywhere while Alton is still doing Good Eats and commentary for Iron Chef America is a howling injustice.
That said, I wouldn’t want Alton to personally teach me how to cook. I’d love to have him cook for me, but he’s too much of a perfectionist to share a kitchen with. I’d probably end up smacking him with a cast iron skillet. And then certain Dopers would string me up.
Plus, he puts garlic in everything. Bleah.
Okay. I’ll admit that once in a bar I decked out a guy who didn’t use a semi-colon correctly. (I was tried and acquitted, by the way.) But I certainly would never go so far as to create a web-site as Ken Jennings as done about a comma on a cracker box. He must be really bored with life.
It’s just her persistent presence that gets to me.
I really don’t care how she looks. I just want her to stop following me through the supermarket.
Maybe I can get a restraining order.
I don’t hate anything about her as a person or personality or performer. It’s just that’s she’s always around me. That’s why I’m getting a restraining order.
I don’t watch Ms. Ray.
I’m not as adamant about it as some: the only things I have against her are the number of 30-minute meals that depend on another 30 minutes of unseen prep work, and the way $40 in her hands yields $2.73 in tips. To me, she’s cute the way some other parents’ precocious five-year-old, the one they encourage to call you by your first name, is cute. But that’s a matter of taste, and as long as I can avoid her there’s no harm done.
No shit.
“Put some EVOO into your preheated saucepan. Then add one cup of minced carrots, one half cup of thinly sliced celery, and four cups of freshly baked bread cut into cubes.”
$40 a day is cheap only if you’re a single trolip on a solo trip.
On that kind of budget a family of four
would spend over $2200 just on food during a 2 week vacation. Who’s doing that?
Depends on where you are. In Anycity, USA, $40 will keep you well fed on fancy schmancy all day long. In a resort area such as Martha’s Vineyard or Aspen, you really have to plan wisely.
I don’t like her show, and her cooking is an agregeous assault on the pallete. I can live with not turning on the tv. I however thought "For Christ sake, I don’t want to look at this New York equivalant of Rossie O’Donald on my fucking cracker box. They have almost full size cardboard displays of her fugly face, and frumpy body all over the stores. She’s the equivalant of Penny Marshall in her over all appeal.
I forgot to say, I’m also amused by the wide variety of products she endorses – several different shapes of crackers. Crackers – the things you eat when there’s no food around.
The only more appropriate product for her endorsement would be a new, extra-virgin, carbonated olive oil:
RR: "Hey, everybody, this is Rachel Ray, and whether, like me, you’re into scrummy sammies, dee-lish knishes, nummy crumblies, or just enjoy chattering gibberish nonstop, you’re always on the lookout for something new. That’s why I went down to my secret basement laboratory and whipped up Rachel Ray’s E-V-O-O-Ohhh! It’s the new, sparkling olive oil. It’s bubbly – just like me! And it’s made from extra-extra-extra virgin olives that have never been stuffed. Not like those slutty olives at the salad bar – you don’t want to know how many forks and toothpicks and pointy things they’ve been on the end of…
"Where was I? Anyway, pour out some R-R-E-V-O-O-Ohhh! and watch as the bubbles rise, slowly, kind of struggling actually, to the surface. That’s what makes it fizz-tastic! Just like me! And the olive oil gives them a surface tension you couldn’t penetrate with a cruise missile! Just like me! So the bubbles never go away! Just like me! Try R-R-E-V-O-O-Ohhh! It’s RREVOOOhhh-lutionary!
"And be sure to catch me on my new public-access cable show, “Forty Dollars for Thirty Minutes with Rachel R–”
(Voiceover cuts in): “R-R-E-V-O-O-Ohhh! Try it today! It’s made from olives – olives that think they’re grapes!”
:dubious: Do they dub Rosie’s voice for Midwesterners or something? (or maybe this Ms. O’Donald is someone else…)
I think Ken Jennings is wrong. I’m pretty sure Racharay’s recipes are meant to be entertaining. I seriously doubt they’re meant to be used for food preparation, so what else is there?
I hate it when she laughs. It sounds like Pee Wee Herman.
That what I get for changing what I originaly wrote, and putting that bitch cow hybrid Rossie O’Donald in it’s spot.
Okay–calling Bricker, calling Bricker!How do I get a restraining order against Rachel Ray?
What would convince a judge most? The cracker boxes or the supermarket stalking?
Both my wife and I have been to 48 states, of which our [3] kids were with us in about 30 of them. No way did we spend over 2 grand just on food during 2 week vacations. Groceries in the motel room, fast food on the road.
Of course, now that they’re all grown and out of the house my wife & I have money we don’t know what to do with. We can easily afford the nicer restaurants while on vacation.