The Cooking Channel is the month-old spinoff to the Food Network, a little sister that's "a little grittier, a little younger, a little more contemporary," or so its programming executives are rehearsed to ritually chant. More accurately, it's a network for the viewer who wants to think of herself as edgy while simultaneously coveting a six-burner Wolf and a $14,000 Sub-Zero. In promos, the announcer—her voice warm and firm, Oprah-atic—calls it "a network for Food People, by Food People," which is a passably discreet way of flattering viewers who might blanch at the lameness of publicly labeling themselves as "foodies."
To call the Cooking Channel edgy overstates the case, naturally, despite the existence of Food Jammers, wherein three shaggy DIY dudes shuttle between the kitchen and the workshop while inventing taco vending machines and retooling a car jack into a pasta maker. Because the network needs to fill a day's schedule on a tight budget, it recycles some programs ranging from contemporary classics (Iron Chef Japan) to renowned nuisances (Emeril Live). Here again is Jamie Oliver, who, with Jamie at Home, has transcended food porn and advanced to food erotica; accompanying the succulent visuals are sounds of mincing and whisking so delicious that the sound engineers deserve an Emmy. On the other hand, because the Cooking Channel has imported so many of its shows from elsewhere, it boasts a worldly feel, not unlike the international aisle at Safeway.
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