I just think it’s wonderful, and I love those guys. It’s a huge step up to me to have a theme song. That was going to be my second question was about the theme song. The crew is bigger and I get a theme song, which I love.
The budget is much bigger just to accommodate that. The difference is it’s shot in 4K ultra-high-definition.
Everybody say sausage keep it going tv#
My first question was going to be how do you pitch a different food show, but then I read some interviews and it sounds like it wasn’t so much a different show as you were trying to get your last show back on TV basically. Yeah, you’re the only interview subject I’ve ever had invite me to his house, so that was nice.
I spoke to Phil over the phone about his new (sort of) show. And that, more than anything else, I think, is Phil’s raison d’etre. With new horizons comes new ideas, and often, better ones. It’s easy to think the way you’ve always done things is the best way or the only way if you never experience anything else. Which is to say, we need the so-called snobs to keep from getting fed cheap, tasteless (and often unhealthy) crap.Įven beyond food, there’s a basic idea underpinning all of this: which is that with broadened horizons comes better decision making. It takes a vanguard of snobs to wake people up to tastier food, which is usually more nutritious food. If no one around remembers what a good tomato tastes like, we’re going to get sold big colorful ones that don’t bruise and taste like cardboard. In another way though, genuine appreciation of local produce and regional styles is one of the few checks we have on industrial agriculture and monoculture. If a dumb trend means, say, flying 3,000 miles so someone can eat overfished sea bass (the poke trend, for instance, makes me very uneasy). There’s certainly some truth to the privilege part, and misguided food trends can be a terrible thing if misapplied. The anti-foodie crowd like to paint foodie culture as an expression of capitalist excess, as over-privileged folk sniffing corks at gentrified food stalls while the world burns. I think he does it partly because it’s nice to have someone else pay, but also because he thinks it’s important. Because sure, he’s a lucky bastard, but he could also surely afford to do all this eating and travel on his own dime, without sharing it. And so there’s a certain nobility to the gesture. It’s the product of a guy who not only gets off on “collecting experiences” (as Phil likes to say), but feels compelled to share them. But moreover, the show feels like an extension of that evening.
The crowd was a collection of Phil’s delightful family, his old acquaintances and famous comedy types, along with a handful of other people he must’ve just thought were interesting for whatever reason.Īm I so easily bribed? Clearly.
Everybody say sausage keep it going movie#
He ended up inviting me to his house a few months later, for a movie screening in his home theater, complete with pizzas from his home brick oven prepared by a cook from Mozza he’d rented for the purpose. I interviewed him over tacos at the Original Farmer’s Market in LA a few years back, and he was the first interview subject I’d had who seemed like he was just happy to hang out for an afternoon. I can only feign so much journalistic neutrality here. But continuing Phil’s charmed trajectory, the show was picked up by Netflix, where it was retitled Somebody Feed Phil, given a bigger budget (including shooting in 4K), and a catchy new theme song.įull disclosure: I like Phil. Something he freely acknowledges, having originally pitched I’ll Have What Phil’s Having with the title “Lucky Bastard.” Despite winning a James Beard Award for the show, which is basically a foodie Oscar, PBS chose not to renew it (I like to imagine all their money goes to feeding Rick Steve’s massive cocaine habit). Of course, Rosenthal also lives the charmed life of someone comfortably wealthy, who now gets to travel to exotic lands eating food for a living. That he’s clearly not a born adventurer, but has sort of become one anyway, makes his adventures feel attainable. Which makes his travelogues not just escapist, but aspirational.
There’s an adventurer underneath that polo shirt. True, Queens-born Phil looks like a guy who may have invented normcore, but now that he’s eaten swamp eels in Japan and cow’s udder tacos in Mexico City, and done countless other exotic things in far-flung places, I don’t know if he can get away with saying he’s “afraid of everything” anymore. Instead, he went on to host the travel show I’ll Have What Phil’s Havingon PBS, which Rosenthal likens to “Anthony Bourdain, if he was afraid of everything.” No matter what else happens, the first line of Phil Rosenthal’s obituary will probably still be that he’s the creator of Everybody Loves Raymond, a sitcom so successful (from the days when success had a much higher bar) that he could surely retire comfortably.
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