I Watched "With Love, Meghan" And Regret All of It

Glamour

Yep. We’re going there. As we all can’t help but know, Meghan Markle, pardon me, Meghan Sussex, has a new lifestyle show on Netflix. It’s currently trending at Number Seven and has already been renewed for Season Two, but the reviews haven’t been kind. At all. Meghan’s also been accused of plagiarising Pamela Anderson (no, not that Pamela Anderson) and the Marchioness of Bath.

What could I possibly add to the conversation? As it turns out, plenty, starting with, “Meghan, are you kidding?”

The show looks nice to start with. It’s filmed well. That’s where the good stuff ends, though. After that, the cringe is real.

First of all, I’d like to know who Meghan’s target audience is. Experienced home cooks? Heck, no. Novices? Golly, I hope not. While her cooking seems to turn out OK, Meghan’s technique is sorely lacking. I mean, no one’s expecting her to cut up a chicken in thirty seconds like Jacques Pepin, but there are a lot of rookie mistakes going on here.

Seriously, Meghan, pleeeease take your finger off the top of the knife. It’s a game-changer. Your wrist will thank you. But no, that pretty finger of hers stays on top of that knife in every episode, and she jerks the knife with every slice, her fingers dangerously close to the business end of things. Julia Child would have probably smacked her upside the head. And Roy Choi actually compliments Meghan on her knife skills. More on him later, and the compliments.

There also seems to be a bit of chicanery going on. When Meghan makes a cake in the first episode, she stirs her dry ingredients into the wet ones instead of folding them, and as anyone who bakes knows, folding is a must if cake is to have any kind of lightness at all. While it’s possible that Meghan used self-rising flour, what she had looked like regular all-purpose, and baking is a finicky science.

Naturally, the layers are pretty dense, but the funny thing is that the cake that gets served up is actually taller than the one Meghan and her friend and makeup artist, Daniel assemble. By about half an inch. Huh. Did someone who knew what they were doing bake a cake off camera so Megs would look good? I wouldn’t put it past them.

Secondly, Meghan’s ability to instruct is pretty sloppy. Cooking times, for instance, are non-existent, as are pertinent details. In one scene, Meghan talks about a little trick she learned: Take a corncob, put it in a paper bag, put the bag in the microwave, and cook. Presto! Lots of lovely popcorn.

There’s just one really obvious problem with that. Or actually, two. The corncob has to be dried and specially designed to go in the microwave, because corn has water in it. Water turns to steam. Steam can create explosions. And oh yeah, how long are we supposed to nuke this mythical corncob? Meghan doesn’t tell us.

What’s really funny is when Meghan’s friends wax lyrical about what a wonderful cook Harry is, and then sigh dreamily over his divine scrambled eggs. Not that there’s anything wrong with scrambled eggs, but they might as well have said he’s really good at making Top Ramen or Rice-a-Roni.

By way of contrast, Ree Drummond’s husband, Ladd, knows his way around a barbecue. We’re talking grilled chicken and beef marinated in butter. But good on ya, Harry. Scrambled eggs.

Speaking of eggs, when Meghan goes to the henhouse in one episode, there are various breeds of hens trotting prettily about, and when she opens the roof to get the eggs, offerings of various colors are waiting for her in a flawless little pile.

Errrrr, chickens don’t lay eggs that way. They just don’t. Even practically perfect chickens supposedly owned by a duchess. More chicanery, I suspect.

It gets better when Roy Choi shows up. Or when any celebrity chef shows up, for that matter. When that happens, Meghan has at least enough finesse to step aside a little bit and be the student, as well as not take credit for what these chefs create. But it does make her lack of skill even more painfully evident.

Again, to be fair, Meghan doesn’t pretend to be an experienced home cook, or that the show’s unrealistically idyllic setting is even hers, but why the pretense at authority? And why do edible flowers have to figure into absolutely everything? Seriously, the flower sprinkles come out all the time in every episode. And why is there absolutely nothing original or distinctive in the midst of the seemingly gracious and innovative living? It all screams, “I’M TRYING TOO HARD!”

Every celebrity chef has a gimmick. We all know this. Rachael Ray has time management. Giada de Laurentiis blends Italy with California. Emeril has the Essence and the “BAM!” Gordon Ramsey combines mad skills with mad temper.

What’s Meghan’s gimmick? Pay Me Fealty. She compliments herself. All her guests compliment her. No matter what happens, Meghan Sussex is the greatest thing to happen to lifestyle core since Mrs. Beaton and Fannie Farmer. Not that these people should be fighting or something, but everyone sounds so gushy and so fake, as if Harry and Meghan’s years of trashing the Royal Family and bleating about privacy while begging for the opposite never happened.

Most insulting of all is that in the end, the show turns out to be a giant infomercial for Meghan’s food line, As Ever, formerly known as the considerably more cumbersome American Riviera Orchard.

Groan. Who wants to bet one of As Ever’s products is flower sprinkles?

With Love, Meghan is a cooking show that will have viewers reaching for insulin, or maybe a barf bag. Not food. I tried not to hate watch this series. I really tried. By Episode Four, though, I was pretty checked out and sat mocking the smug, self-indulgent unreality of it all. There’s no way I’ll look at Season Two, not even to see if Meghan takes her finger off the top of her knife.

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With Love, Meghan is currently streaming on Netflix. Not rated.

My grade: D-

Principal Cast: Meghan Markle, Abigail Spencer, Mindy Kaling, Roy Choi, Alice Waters, Delfina Blacquier, Daniel Martin, Vicky Tsai, Kelly Zafjen

Directed by Michael Steed.