They say that the truth shall set you free, so let me begin by unburdening myself of this particular chunk of candor: I really like Guy Fieri.
This is not something of which I'm particularly proud. I can honestly think of no group of people who hold Guy Fieri to be "cool," according to any definition of the word, except perhaps those without a fully formed grasp of what "cool" is or has ever been. Having seen some of Fieri's IRL friends on television—he once referred to Smash Mouth lead singer Steve Harwell as his "brother from another mother"—I can only suspect that Fieri and I would not be bros.
He and I do, however, have something significant in common: We are passionate about food. Our specific interests in the subject probably diverge from there—Fieri seems to be intensely focused on monetizing and marketing his passion, although if you can get past all the chunky jewelry and kewl adjectives, his recipes can be delicious.
Despite our differences, I have spent dozens of hours, perhaps days, of my life watching Fieri's signature television show, Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, on the Food Network. It's not a particularly challenging series, nor is it intellectually stimulating in any way. Which, quite frankly, is the real appeal of the program: It makes fine late-night viewing when some of your faculties may have been compromised, and good background noise when I'm traveling for business and need something on the TV while I work.
Fieri comes across some genuinely interesting dishes. Traveling the country in his vintage Camaro, the shaggy culinary shamus visits restaurants that are off the beaten path in search of undiscovered recipes and techniques that will produce previously unprecedented bold flavors. (If there's anything we know about him, Fieri is all about bold flavors.)
Triple D is in its twenty-fourth season—yes, twenty-four—of Fieri taking us along for the journey. And make no mistake, we are in those kitchens with him, raising a skeptical eyebrow when a chef sprinkles his pancakes with pickled jalapeños or sprays his jerk chicken with a bottle of beer. Although the host does his best to play the jolly guest, for those of us who have logged enough time watching Triple D, he does have his tells that should give viewers a hint of what he's really thinking. I've put in the work. Here are a few of the finer subtleties I've observed:
• Every episode of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives begins with Fieri in a 1967 Chevrolet Camaro SS with the top down, yelling at the camera, "Hey everybody, I'm Guy Fieri and we're rolling out, looking for America's greatest drive-ins, diners, and dives." For some reason, when he does voice-overs and is not on camera, his voice is a good octave higher than when he is on camera.
• Most episodes of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives feature three restaurants each. As a general rule, if your diner, drive-in, or dive is exceptional or has a particularly telegenic or interesting chef/owner, you will be one of the first two restaurants featured, and will have more than one recipe showcased.
• If your restaurant is in the final block, it suggests your establishment was worthy of making the show but unworthy of receiving greater attention. It's like being on the Golden State Warriors but only playing mop-up time.
• Every chef gets a fist bump, no matter how awkward. Be ready.
• Two things I've noticed Fieri does not enjoy: undercooked eggs and liver. Apparently, mushy textures aren't very popular in Flavortown.
• While Fieri genuinely excels at the television part of his gig—talking to the camera, engaging guests—he also likes to remind us that he is, at heart, a cook. For instance, when a chef begins to assemble a rub or marinade, Guy will often identify the ingredients from look/smell before the chef can announce them. Fieri also likes to give his approval to arcane ingredients, letting viewers know that he is no stranger to them. ("Ooh, I love togarashi.")
• Fieri utilizes a version of the English language that is almost entirely unique to him. Almost every noun has an adjective preceding it, and many words that would normally end with a "g" have the "g" replaced by an apostrophe for no real reason. The Triple D episode descriptions on FoodNetwork.com have actually been written completely in the host's patois:
• On some level, the Fieri experience is the promotion of an aspirational lifestyle, albeit the aspirations of people who seek to wear bowling shirts. Fieri's language is, along with the jewelry and bleach, an expression of singularity. It's a genius marketing tool, which helps in selling the greater Fieri experience to consumers. To that end, Fieri has available on his website a line of sauces and salsas with names such as "Old Skool Cocktail Sauce," as well as a line of kitchenware that promises to "hook you up with a bad boy's take on essentials."
• Sometimes it isn't what Fieri says but what he doesn't say that reveals how he really feels about a dish. There are times when he samples something that is at best average, which causes him to employ some creative semantics. One of my favorites: When, say, a lasagna is underwhelming, Fieri will take a bite and then nod and say in a businesslike tone, "When you want lasagna, that's what you want." And then he'll say flatly, "Nice job," while declining to talk specifically about the food.
• Similarly, Fieri often chooses not to single out a dish as the very best he's had. "Without question, top three best Asian soups I've ever had in my life," he'll say, clearly hedging. So it's clearly among the best, but it also isn't the best.
• Fieri has a collection of synonyms that mean roughly the same as "above average": money; winner-winner; killer; real-deal; legit. These are his gold stars, doled out freely.
• When something is truly great, Fieri has a select handful of superlatives: shut the front door; out of bounds; off the hook; lights out; hands down. He sometimes adds a physical flourish, such as breaking the fourth wall to look directly at the viewer, pretending to wrestle the plate away from the chef, or running out of the kitchen as if these flavors were just too much for him to handle.
• These shows regularly feature people who pop up as diners, whom Guy introduces as an old college pal or a military member he met on an airplane or a chef buddy. Making fun of Fieri's look and style is basically low-hangin' fruit, because he seems to be a loyal person who has friends all over the place, who hosts a popular television show that helps make small-business owners more successful. And that's real-deal.
