Valerie Bertinelli has never been one to sugarcoat her life, and when she showed up in a recent Instagram video, her fans knew immediately she had something real to say. She looked straight into the camera, calm but candid, and delivered what she called “good news and bad news.” The good news was simple enough: a brand-new season of Valerie’s Home Cooking was set to premiere at noon the next day on Food Network. The bad news carried more weight. This fourteenth season, the one fans had been waiting for, would also be the show’s last.
Bertinelli said the network had canceled the series the previous summer. She didn’t know why, and she’d kept quiet for months, hoping the executives would reverse the decision. They never did. She didn’t try to hide her disappointment either. There was no bitterness, just a heavy honesty from someone who had built a genuine connection with viewers over years of cooking, storytelling, and showing people who she really was—far beyond the polished world of celebrity chefs.
The comment section filled up immediately. Fans were stunned that a show with such a loyal audience was ending, and many didn’t hide their frustration. Among those voices was one that carried weight in the food world: Ree Drummond, better known as The Pioneer Woman. She wrote an emotional message praising Bertinelli’s talent, generosity, and warmth, promising to watch every episode and support her wherever her career led next. Drummond called herself “a Valerie B. fan for life,” echoing the sentiment of thousands of viewers who felt like they had just lost a comfort show they relied on.
The timing of this announcement came on the heels of another candid moment from Bertinelli, posted a few weeks earlier on Super Bowl Sunday. In that video, she talked about something she referred to as a “hidden bruise”—a term that struck a chord with people who have endured emotional or verbal abuse. She explained that she had put on a pair of pants she hadn’t worn in years, and the sound of the fabric rubbing together instantly triggered old memories of someone mocking her body. She didn’t name names, but she didn’t need to. The pain in her voice made it clear these weren’t small comments; they were wounds that had seeped into her self-image long after the words had been spoken.
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