Meghan Markle—correction: Meghan Sussex—has whipped up a pop cultural frenzy with the drop of her new Netflix series, With Love, Meghan. Among the highly specific questions bubbling in my texts and DMs this week: Is it prudent to cook in buttery shades of Loro Piana cashmere? Those are Trader Joe’s peanut butter pretzels she’s repackaging, right? Will a child actually abide a goodie bag in which the only sweet is a stick of Manuka honey? (Certainly not either of mine). And where are Oprah Winfrey and Serena Williams on the featured-guest list?
The duchess is no stranger to blockbuster moments, from her royal wedding to the Oprah interview and, now, her flower-sprinkled foray into Martha territory. In marrying into, then blowing the whistle on, the British monarchy, Meghan has both inspired love and hope and fangirls and been targeted with hate, including a torrent of racist, sexist abuse from the British tabloids and gross commentary from President Trump. It’s weighty context that can make any passing criticism of her feel fraught.
At the same time, by boomeranging back to Hollywood and creating content for public consumption on a streaming giant, Meghan has actually invited some level of feedback. And on the whole, reviews of With Love, Meghan have been fair, if not strictly favorable. Some shrug at her basic, elder-millennial Pinterest hacks (rebagging the cult-fave TJ’s pretzels with calligraphed tags). Many seize on the unrelatability (would that I could peel my son from his PS5 to salt-bake trout!) and Meghan’s breezy farm-to-table privilege. Beekeeping, harvesting your own honey, and using said honey to make beeswax candles, for example, is an exercise “achievable only for someone who has a certain amount of money, time, or both,” Nadira Goffe wrote for Slate.
As someone who has covered Meghan since her debut as Prince Harry’s girlfriend in 2016—the halcyon days of ripped Mother jeans and Misha Nonoo Husband shirts!—I don’t find the show’s wild display of wealth surprising (though I do wish the Sussexes would acknowledge their soft landing in America more often). Aspiration was always the icing on Martha’s and Ina’s cakes, too. But the reason With Love, Meghan underwhelms is that it is a lifestyle series that does not truly invite viewers into her life.
When Meghan welcomes us into the kitchen, it’s not her kitchen—her surely spectacular kitchen where “H” and Archie and Lilibet swipe bacon—but a generically luxe kitchen at a rental near their Montecito estate (like their past British homes, it has a name: The Chateau of Riven Rock). Meghan told People she decided against filming there to “protect that safe haven.” That’s understandable for a scarred former senior royal, but it’s a tricky gambit for a lifestyle maven, a role predicated on flinging open the doors to your fabulous existence and making viewers feel like a friend (before selling them a full suite of cookware). Meghan breaks the fourth wall to share treats with the camera crew, presumably in a bid to make With Love feel unstuffy, but nothing would have been fuzzier or more authentic than filming in the comfort of her actual house. Instead, when she stirs her skillet spaghetti and scoops As Ever jam in the rental kitchen—no favorite mugs or inherited dishes from her mom, Doria Ragland (or Queen Elizabeth II), to be found—it feels like what it is: a pretty yet hollow set.
Meghan’s family is also largely scrubbed from the show, except for Harry and a fleeting appearance from Ragland at a mini As Ever launch party in the finale (the prince congratulates his wife on a “great job”). I respect keeping their children, Archie, 5, and “Lili,” 3, off-camera, but I don’t see why Harry couldn’t cameo as a merry British Jeffrey to Meghan’s Ina. They didn’t have to allude to anniversary sex in a backyard tent like the Gartens (iconically) did, but “H” could at least sample the jam, maybe school us in the art of his famed scrambled eggs. Meghan lovingly mentions the kids throughout—Archie is partial to goldenberries, Lili has a patented clean-up song—but always with a high gloss of perfection. Do they ever lick icing off the mixer? Not eat vegetables daily? Maintaining her (and their) privacy is a legitimate concern; it just doesn’t make for particularly compelling TV.
The Sussex family’s absence is most glaring when Meghan and Mindy Kaling craft a children’s garden party, complete with heart-shaped tea sandwiches, at which there are neither any children nor any specific references to Meghan’s time in the UK—the global epicenter of such frilly affairs. Her royal life is the elephant in the (rented) room: When Meghan introduces her makeup artist and friend, Daniel Martin, she doesn’t mention that he did her wedding-day beauty.
The result of these elisions is that With Love, Meghan feels up close but impersonal, like the host so busy making everything impeccable that she forgets to join the party. Given Meghan’s track record as a feminist humanitarian and the fact that the show is directed by Michael Steed, an Emmy Award-winning producer for Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown—the gold standard for blending food and culture—I expected deep conversation in the kitchen. But this is, in fact, a fairly technical cooking show notably light on human connection—lots of Meyer lemon, not enough juice. Its star spends 25 minutes selecting and arranging flowers for her good friends Kelly McKee Zajfen and former Suits co-star Abigail Spencer but only a few talking with them at the end of the episode. “We’ve been through a lot,” Meghan says nebulously of Zajfen, but there’s no more meaningful mention of their long friendship: They’ve known each other since Markle’s never-spoken-of first marriage to producer Trevor Engelson.
The unequivocal best moment of With Love, Meghan is arguably the most revealing, when Meghan tells Kaling that she grew up a latchkey kid who “ate a lot of fast food,” including Jack in the Box and Taco Bell with “extra hot sauce on the Mexican Pizza.” Kaling’s reply (“I don’t think anyone in the world knows Meghan Markle has eaten Jack in the Box”) and Meghan’s subsequent correction (she really goes by “Sussex” these days) is getting all the attention, but that memory spoke volumes. It just may hint at why Meghan romanticizes fresh food and is obsessed with growing berries and making her own jam and feeding her family and friends. It’s a reminder of her humble beginnings as a biracial child of divorce in LA, one who sometimes ate alone. I wish there were more vulnerable moments like it. More refreshing than any homemade lavender towel: serving viewers something real.
