If you thought a cooking show was just about food, think again. Meghan Markle’s latest attempt at becoming the queen of the culinary world felt more like an episode of *Real Housewives: Sussex Edition*, featuring an exasperated Prince Harry and a brunch gathering as uncomfortable as a family reunion gone wrong.
It all starts with the grand entrance—or rather, Harry’s reluctant shuffle onto the set. He greets everyone with warmth, doling out friendly hugs left and right—until he reaches Meghan. The embrace he gives her has all the enthusiasm of a man forced to hug his accountant after a tax audit. Meghan, of course, smiles through gritted teeth, because when it comes to their public image, nothing else is on the menu.
Then there’s Doria—Meghan’s mother—who takes on the role of the unacknowledged guest. While others receive warm welcomes, she drifts through the scene like an overlooked extra, barely receiving a glance from her own daughter. The tension is so thick you could spread it on toast—assuming toast is part of Meghan’s meticulously curated menu.
But the real spectacle begins with the celebratory toast. Glasses are raised in Meghan’s honor, the self-proclaimed star of the universe. And Harry? He hesitates. He looks around as if calculating the price of not participating. After what feels like an eternity, he finally lifts his glass—his expression that of a man who just realized he may have left the oven on at Buckingham Palace. His face says it all: *How did I get here?*
Just when you think it can’t get any more awkward, the staged kiss happens. Meghan leans in, Harry obliges, and the moment the cameras stop rolling, he creates just enough space between them—like a man who’s just escaped an overly clingy handshake. Meanwhile, Meghan carries on as if she’s auditioning for an Oscar-winning role: *The Woman Who Has It All Together.*
The underlying theme of the episode? Harry’s growing realization that he swapped royal banquets for this. The former prince who once stood beside his grandmother at grand state dinners now finds himself nursing a mimosa at a painfully staged brunch. And for what? So his wife can bask in the glow of self-admiration.
At its core, the show reveals something deeper—Meghan’s lack of genuine connection beyond her carefully crafted public persona. No heartfelt family traditions, no nostalgic childhood recipes—just a hollow performance with a supporting cast playing the roles of *friends.* This isn’t a celebration of love and togetherness; it’s an infomercial wrapped in an ego boost.
In the end, what should have been a simple brunch turned into a theatrical production of *Let’s Pretend Everything is Perfect.* But the cracks are showing, and no amount of avocado toast can hide them. Harry looks like a man trapped in a script he didn’t write, while Meghan continues auditioning for a role no one is buying.
