Private Chefs Of Beverly Hills

The first cooking show ever to win a War Crimes designation on Forkbastard isn't currently airing on Food Network, but since Scripps never throws anything away (c.f. the Cooking Channel schedule), there's no guarantee it won't appear again, and thus, you should all be warned.

As the name implies, the series follows a group of private chefs, heretofore known as the Douchebags, who are hired for dinners and private events by obscenely rich people, heretofore known as the Motherfuckers. It's the closest any cooking show has ever come to My Super Sweet 16.

In just one episode of Private Chefs, the only one I could stand to watch all the way through, I took notes and catalogued the various crimes committed by both camps. Here is that list.

THE DOUCHEBAGS:

  • The douchebag commander chose which douchebag to send to the Botox party (see: Motherfuckers) based on how good he looked.
  • Douchebag eats dog biscuits on camera.
  • Douchebags constantly discuss the allegedly high standards and constant demands of the motherfuckers as if those were in fact valid things to be concerned about.
  • Douchebag spends a long time on camera talking about how she's not going to comply with the potentially disastrous, last-minute changes of their motherfucker, then does it anyway.
  • Douchebag either coins or uses the word "glamping", meaning "glamourous camping". Whoever is ultimately responsible for this lexicographical abortion, I'm blaming the douchebag who first caused me to hear it.

THE MOTHERFUCKERS:

  • One motherfucker hires the douchebags to create a gourmet meal for the dogs of her and her motherfucker friends.
  • Motherfuckers host a botox party for all their pumped-and-plumped motherfucker plastic surgery addicts.
  • Motherfucker claims that drinking soup is too much work for someone who's just had botox, without realizing the horrific implications that implies for the very idea of a botox party.
  • Glamping motherfucker looms over douchebags, whining and complaining and calling sausages "hot dogs".
  • Motherfuckers ignore douchebags and treat them like invisible "help". Bonus douchebag crime! Douchebags act offended and surprised!
  • Botox motherfucker asks, at the last minute, for the douchebags to invent whimsical "spa names" for each dish.
  • Botox motherfucker tells female douchebag she could use some Botox.

The people on this show make Guy Fieri seem authentic and down-to-earth. It painstakingly documents the unholy intersection of unmerited privilege and the desperate catering, if you'll pardon the pun, to that privilege. It's practically unwatchable even as a horrified amateur anthropologist. And I hope it never, ever comes back.