Oh Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. Despite the Village People-inspired trailers, I was really looking forward to Jamie's American Road Trip (9pm, C4, 1 September).
It had all the potential ingredients for success a diverse culinary and cultural landscape, real people cooking up real meals and, of course Oliver, who has stepped down from the pulpit for once to assume the more winning persona of man of the people. But on the evidence of the first episode in this six-part series, I remain to be convinced.
As Oliver hit the Hispanic ganglands of LA to embark on "one man's food quest to be reborn in the US of A", I couldn't help but feel this was actually more an over-exposed TV chef's quest to rediscover his cool and in doing so win over a new, younger audience. Call me cynical. But Oliver's army these days largely consists of middle-aged, healthy eating do-gooders. In LA, however, we see the young father hanging out with Four Seasons chef Rigo, who's preparing a commemorative meal for his uncle, "the dad he never knew" and head of a division of the Bloods who'd been gunned down four years earlier.
No doubt, Oliver neglected to mention his kids' names (the latest one's called Petal Blossom) as he attempted to empathise with the former gang members in between picking up tips on how to make gorditas (the sweet little tortillas cutely described as little fat girls), a mole (a Mexican sauce) with 36 ingredients and huevos rancheros.
But though I'm sure the food tasted great, it didn't look all that amazing and virtually none of it was prepared by Oliver, who, reduced to observer, came across as Louis Theroux-lite without the intelligent insights (did we need to hear him muse on how hard it is to be a responsible father when he's away so much, shortly after hearing an ex-crystal meth addict describe his efforts to stay on the straight and narrow for the sake of his four kids?).
There was one brilliant moment, when Oliver headed to a "swap meet" Mexican market where a stallholder gets him to try mescal root but fails to tell him it's hallucinogenic. But it wasn't enough to rescue this mess of a programme. Let's hope he ditches the inanities and dons the apron next week.
It had all the potential ingredients for success a diverse culinary and cultural landscape, real people cooking up real meals and, of course Oliver, who has stepped down from the pulpit for once to assume the more winning persona of man of the people. But on the evidence of the first episode in this six-part series, I remain to be convinced.
As Oliver hit the Hispanic ganglands of LA to embark on "one man's food quest to be reborn in the US of A", I couldn't help but feel this was actually more an over-exposed TV chef's quest to rediscover his cool and in doing so win over a new, younger audience. Call me cynical. But Oliver's army these days largely consists of middle-aged, healthy eating do-gooders. In LA, however, we see the young father hanging out with Four Seasons chef Rigo, who's preparing a commemorative meal for his uncle, "the dad he never knew" and head of a division of the Bloods who'd been gunned down four years earlier.
No doubt, Oliver neglected to mention his kids' names (the latest one's called Petal Blossom) as he attempted to empathise with the former gang members in between picking up tips on how to make gorditas (the sweet little tortillas cutely described as little fat girls), a mole (a Mexican sauce) with 36 ingredients and huevos rancheros.
But though I'm sure the food tasted great, it didn't look all that amazing and virtually none of it was prepared by Oliver, who, reduced to observer, came across as Louis Theroux-lite without the intelligent insights (did we need to hear him muse on how hard it is to be a responsible father when he's away so much, shortly after hearing an ex-crystal meth addict describe his efforts to stay on the straight and narrow for the sake of his four kids?).
There was one brilliant moment, when Oliver headed to a "swap meet" Mexican market where a stallholder gets him to try mescal root but fails to tell him it's hallucinogenic. But it wasn't enough to rescue this mess of a programme. Let's hope he ditches the inanities and dons the apron next week.
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