A-list celebrities don't really pimp food products. It's like doing TV commercials—it's okay in Japan, out of sight, but it seems far beneath the likes of Tom Cruise or Russell Crowe to do something so gauche in America. The exception is Paul Newman, whose vast food empire is about more than releasing a quickie, crappy product. The A.V. Club's Tasha Robinson has had a bottle of Olympia Dukakis-brand salad dressing (brought to you by the same defunct company that once foisted Erik Estrada corn chips on the world) on her desk since 1999: Inspired by that, we dug up some currently available products endorsed by marginal celebs. Sadly, the Dirt McGirt Rap Snacks did not show up in time to make this article.
Smokey Robinson Down Home Pot Roast
The most striking thing about Smokey Robinson's line of frozen entrées isn't the fact that he has a line of frozen entrées; it's his frighteningly dead eyes staring out from the surface of the package. They look cataract-stricken, or maybe devil-infested. Still, that doesn't stop Smokey from putting his name on seafood gumbo, red beans and rice, and other reasonably priced foodstuffs.
Level of celebrity: With an older crowd, fairly high. Younger supermarketeers might just think he's a creepy, dead-eyed chef.
Appropriateness of product to celebrity: Appropriate. Smokey offers comfort with his music, and cheap comfort with his meals.
Likelihood of consumption by non-fans: Moderate to high. For frozen entrees, these aren't half-bad. Or maybe they're exactly half-bad.
Marketing hyperbole: "The soul is in the bowl," which implies that you're actually consuming Smokey Robinson's soul. His creepy eyes agree.
Buy it at: Lots of grocery stores.
Dwight Yoakam's Chicken Lickin's Chicken Fries And Buffalo Style Bites
Just how much chicken-breast deliciousness can you get for $1? Not a whole lot, judging by Dwight Yoakam's suspiciously cheap frozen chicken treats. Tasters at The A.V. Club aptly described these microwavable goodies as "breaded nothing," though to be fair, breading only constitutes about 65 percent of each "chicken fry" or Buffalo-style bite. Check out modernfoods.net for more stomach-churning info.
Level of celebrity: High. Yoakam is a respected country singer, hotshot guitarist, and distinguished character actor. When it comes to selling chicken to rubes, however, he's no Colonel Sanders.
Appropriateness of product to celebrity: Moderate. Yoakam has long appealed to a more upscale, diverse fan base than his country peers, but this downscale item's cheap packaging and bargain price screams "midnight snack at the trailer park." Then again, there's a long tradition of country musicians lending their names to questionable products. Yoakam is clearly channeling his inner Krusty The Clown with his line of quasi-edible foodstuffs.
Likelihood of consumption by non-fans: Questionable, though these should appeal to misers who refuse to pay more than $1 for a chicken fix, and to folks enamored of products that look and smell like food, yet lack anything resembling flavor.
Marketing hyperbole: The label says "Wow! Only $1," but it just as easily could read "Yikes! Only $1!" Sadly, you get what you pay for with Dwight Yoakam's chicken treats.
Buy it at: 7-Eleven.
Mike Ditka Coach's Cut pork chops
Most former athletes or coaches can only hope to land a commentating gig (which Da Coach has), but name another one who has his own restaurants, resort, cigars, record label, food products, and wine ("Kick Ass Red," so you don't think he's a wuss or nothin'). His food, naturally, comes in gigantic proportions suitable for the fat-ass super-fans immortalized by Saturday Night Live.
Level of celebrity: In the football world, near the top. Everywhere else, not so much.
Appropriateness of product to celebrity: Perfect. Gargantuan meat products are perfectly suited for a man who's had a heart attack.
Likelihood of consumption by non-fans: Pretty good, at least among chronic overeaters.
Marketing hyperbole: "Finally Da Coach brings his own kick-ass twist to gourmet food!" Good, because real men only eat gourmet food that's ass-kicking, you fairies.
Buy it at: We got it at Dominick's.
Dexter Holland Gringo Bandito hot sauce
Of all celebrity foodstuffs, hot sauce seems the most common. Why? It's probably the easiest and cheapest to make—mix some vinegar with peppers, and voila, hot sauce. Joining sauce-marketers Cheech Marin, Joe Perry of Aerosmith, Ron Jeremy, Patti LaBelle, and untold others we've missed, is Dexter Holland, singer-guitarist for long-running punk outfit The Offspring.
Level of celebrity: Among the Warped Tour set, pretty high. In the mainstream music world and beyond, middling.
Appropriateness of product to celebrity: Pretty appropriate. The label on the bottle features a drawing of Holland as a bandolier-laden Mexican gangster. And he's from southern California—that's close to Mexico, right?
Likelihood of consumption by non-fans: Slim, unless you live in L.A. or Orange County, where you can find it in some restaurants.
Marketing hyperbole: Holland doesn't take it too seriously, referring to it as his "not-so-famous" sauce and mocking the need for nutrition information on the label. ("It's vinegar and peppers, for God's sake. What did you expect?") But he's attuned to his customers in another way: "I tried to make it easy on the pooper, too."
Buy it at: gringobandito.com
Jeff Foxworthy Grillin' Sauces, original BBQ
Barbecue sauce is just one of the many products available at thefoxworthystore.com, which offers apparel, books (both volumes of the Redneck Dictionary!), CDs and DVDs, and food. (Rolling over a link to any elicits a Foxworthy quip: "Apparel! Are ya nekkid?") The groceries section—"Groceries! I'm hongry!"—features five varieties of barbecue sauce and three types of beef jerky.
Level of celebrity: Moderate, thanks to his current gig hosting Fox's Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader?
Appropriateness of product to celebrity: Perfect. Game-show hijinks aside, Foxworthy made his name with his "You might be a redneck if…" shtick. Offering only jerky and barbecue sauce in his "groceries" section is a redneck joke in itself.
Likelihood of consumption by non-fans: Low, at least non-ironically.
Marketing hyperbole: On the label, Foxworthy tells of his father's accident-prone grilling legacy: "There was a good chance that there was going to be a call to 911 whenever he fired up the grill… You always knew, though, that when Big Jim was grilling, the food was going to be good and the burns would eventually heal." Foxworthy signs off "Bone appateet!"
Buy it at: thefoxworthystore.com
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