I recently watched Bon Appétit your majesty on Netflix. My wife and I enjoy cooking shows and anime, or I at least enjoy her enjoyment of cooking shows and she reciprocates with an appreciation of shonen. Our sister in-law swears by k-dramas but my understanding has always been that they were soap opera-esque long winded and winding who-cares female media (and maybe they are), but this one is certainly something else.

I only caught it starting from the second episode. It is my way to catch a glimpse of some series my wife has set out to fill her spare time only for her to concede at my whim not to watch a second of it without me. What charmed me immediately was the cadence of Korean humor. In this case the premise is that a prize winning girl boss chef is transported back in time when she reads a mysterious book her single father gives to her. Once she arrives she immediately is seized by the then emporor of the Joseon dynasty. The dramatic irony is the girls flippant insubordination and the emperors absolute incredulity at her defiance.

That’s all well and good, and so what, a plot that panders to modern feminism by juxtaposing the backwards ancient wisdom of patriarchal culture with the empowering girl boss of today. That’s what my jaded western media sense prepared my disappointment for, but I was constantly pleasantly surprised at the lack of moral idolatry. The fundamental character of the program was entertainment and the joy of the viewer.

The tension between the conventionally attractive protagonists is layered over and over with closeups and internal monologues and flashbacks and slow motion fan service like a butter pastry. There is no self consciousness nor anxiety about subtlety nor a worry about impressing the viewers vanity for having perfectly placed a sophisticated symbol or allegory to represent the chemistry, everything is immediately available and hammered relentlessly. The ultimate payoff comes when she finally cooks the emperor bibimbap and