How My Last Two Brain Cells Tolerated Cooking With Paris
I began the show with 100 billion brain cells. It whittled down to two by the time the series was over.
Cooking With Paris is a mind-numbing experience frosted with glitter, ignorant wealth, and dreadful recipes. Yet despite my dead brain cells, or really because of it, I found myself wildly (and guiltily) entertained by the sheer absurdity of a Paris Hilton cooking show.
It’s precisely as shallow as you’d expect. She goes grocery shopping in the most outrageous outfits, has no idea what a tong is, and attempts to fry cereal flakes. Half the time, it’s hilarious in its gaudiness, in others, it’s downright worrying she’s reached 40 years with so little real-life adult knowledge. But this was all expected—Paris is still the same Paris who gave us The Simple Life and a barrage of outrageous tabloid headlines in the 2000s. The ever-present threat of cancel culture hasn’t changed her. She’s made a brand from her outdated Barbie-esque persona, but she’s no less shameless for it despite being 40.
The entire show was a six-episode flashback to the golden age of the 2000s, when celebrities could be as outlandish as they could be with only the threat of a tabloid attack. Paris’ one-line quips brings us back to the days of trash 2000s MTV reality shows that were as entertaining as they were audacious. Each episode invites a new friend/celebrity to step into Paris’ world to be her cooking assistant—and babysitter. From Kim Kardashian to Demi Lovato, no babysitter is spared from Paris' seemingly genuine blunders in the kitchen. But make no mistake—this isn’t a cooking show. That would imply that food culture would be the center of the show, and it isn’t. You won't remember the recipes, but you will remember her attempts to coin a successor to her 2000s quote "That's hot." Gretchen Wieners is shaking.
This is Paris’ ship, and we’re just along for the ride.
Halfway through the series, she’s already broken two blenders and likely caused her celebrity assistant to develop diabetes from sugar overdoses. As for the viewers? Well, expect your brain cells to disintegrate by the time she asks Siri what a zest lemon is. After all common sense has vanished, then you can fully enjoy the facetious and unparalleled frivolity that is Cooking With Paris. It’s pure, harmless fluff that you can’t take too seriously. Grab some vodka, turn off all logic, and enjoy what Saweetie rightly calls, “Rich bitch shit.”
Just bid your brain cells farewell.
Cooking With Paris is now streaming on Netflix. Watch at your own risk.
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