For decades, Lorne Michaels and his Saturday Night Live empire had a monopoly on political satire. But now, the Trump White House provides a daily stream of material that even the most seasoned comedy writer couldn't script. From gold-covered Oval Office walls to a commander-in-chief mired in an unwinnable war, the absurdity is relentless. Last week, however, the administration topped itself with an announcement that left many scratching their heads: Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. launched his own cooking show on HBO, titled The Real Food Show.
In a promotional video, Kennedy declared, "Hi, I'm Robert F. Kennedy Jr., your HHS Secretary. Welcome to the Real Food Show…Let's get cooking." The first episode features Kennedy alongside chef Andrew Gruel in Huntington Beach, California, where they prepare wild Alaska salmon cakes. Kennedy claims the dish can be made for under $5 per serving, especially if using canned salmon. The episode aims to encourage Americans to eat less beef and more seafood, a message that aligns with the administration's "Make America Healthy Again" agenda.
But watching the 20-minute segment is an exercise in cringe. Kennedy appears utterly out of his element in the kitchen. He mostly stands idly by while Gruel does the heavy lifting, occasionally picking up a spoon to stir when instructed. He offers no insight into ingredients or spice ratios, and his commentary is often unintelligible. He boasts about "flipping the food pyramid" without explaining what that means, and he touts the administration's efforts to lower beef prices by enlarging cattle herds—without detailing how that would work or how it squares with the seafood-centric message.
The timing of the show's debut raises eyebrows. The same week, the CDC reported 2,371 measles cases as of July 30, a 1.6 million dozen egg recall due to salmonella, a multi-state Cyclospora outbreak linked to shredded lettuce, and rising COVID infections in 41 states. Critics argue that an HHS secretary should be glued to his desk managing these public health emergencies, not jetting off to California to film a cooking segment.
Kennedy's personal history with food also invites skepticism. He has admitted to once picking up a dead bear from the roadside with plans to skin and eat it—until time ran out and he dumped it in Central Park. In his diary, he wrote about cutting the penis off a road-kill raccoon. His cousin Caroline Kennedy, in a letter opposing his nomination, accused him of blending mice and chickens together. His daughter recounted how he used a chainsaw to remove a dead whale's head and strapped it to the roof of their car.
HHS has not announced how many episodes of The Real Food Show will air, but Kennedy should stop with this one. It's embarrassingly bad and detracts from his official duties. As measles cases hit a 35-year high and the federal health response dwindles, Americans need a secretary focused on policy, not puffery. The Food Network already offers a plethora of skilled and entertaining chefs, from Ina Garten to countless others, who can provide culinary guidance without the baggage of roadkill anecdotes.
This isn't the first time Kennedy's public persona has clashed with his role. He recently clashed with CNN's Dana Bash over COVID claims, and his doubts about Trump's vandalism narrative have made headlines. But launching a cooking show while public health crises mount is a new low. As one observer quipped, "We don't need any cooking advice from some guy whose idea of a good meal used to be roadkill."
