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'King of the Hill' Was Always a Food Show, Dang It

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  After 15 years away from our screens, Hank and the gang are back and as good as ever

King of the Hill's Long-Awaited Season 14: A Hulu Revival That Grills Up Nostalgia and Fresh Bites


In the pantheon of animated sitcoms, few shows have captured the essence of American suburban life quite like *King of the Hill*. Created by Mike Judge and Greg Daniels, the series followed the Hill family—propane salesman Hank, his wife Peggy, their son Bobby, and an eclectic cast of neighbors—in the fictional town of Arlen, Texas. For 13 seasons, it delivered understated humor, sharp social commentary, and a deep dive into the rituals of everyday existence, from backyard barbecues to the sacred art of grilling. Now, with what fans are calling "Season 14" available on Hulu—a collection of four previously unaired episodes that wrapped up the series in 2009—viewers can finally savor the conclusion to this beloved show. But does it hold up? As a food-focused lens reveals, these episodes not only tie up loose ends but also reinforce the show's enduring love affair with Texan cuisine, community meals, and the cultural significance of food in binding people together.

Let's start with the context: *King of the Hill* has always been more than just laughs; it's a celebration of regional American foodways. Hank Hill's passion for propane isn't just a job—it's a philosophy, embodied in his meticulous grilling techniques. Episodes often revolved around food as a social glue: the alleyway beer sessions with neighbors Dale, Bill, and Boomhauer; Peggy's infamous brown betty desserts; or Bobby's adventures in competitive eating and cooking. The show subtly critiqued and honored Southern comfort foods, from brisket to Frito pies, while poking fun at fad diets and fast-food intrusions. Streaming these final episodes on Hulu feels like rediscovering a family recipe book, dusty but full of flavor. They pick up where Season 13 left off, addressing character arcs with a mix of heartfelt moments and absurd humor, all while keeping food at the forefront.

The first episode, "The Boy Can't Help It," dives right into Bobby Hill's coming-of-age struggles, blending adolescent awkwardness with culinary metaphors. Bobby, ever the food enthusiast, finds himself navigating high school crushes and peer pressure. The plot centers on his attempts to impress a group of girls by joining their "cool" crowd, which leads to a hilarious sequence involving a botched attempt at making homemade salsa for a party. Hank, of course, steps in with his no-nonsense advice, turning it into a lesson on authenticity—much like choosing quality charcoal over gas for the perfect sear. Food here serves as a symbol of identity; Bobby's failed salsa experiment mirrors his internal conflict, but it's resolved over a family barbecue where Hank grills up some sirloin steaks, reminding everyone that true flavor comes from simplicity and tradition. The episode's humor lands softly, with Peggy's overzealous involvement adding layers of comedic tension, and it sets a tone for the season that's equal parts nostalgic and forward-looking.

Moving on to "The Honeymooners," the focus shifts to Hank and Peggy's relationship, rekindling their romance through an impromptu second honeymoon. This episode is a feast for fans of the show's domestic dynamics, with food playing a pivotal role in their escapades. The couple heads to a bed-and-breakfast, where Peggy insists on trying "fancy" continental breakfasts—think croissants and fruit compotes—that clash hilariously with Hank's preference for hearty Texas fare like biscuits and gravy. A standout scene involves Hank sneaking out to a local diner for some authentic chili, only to get caught in a rainstorm, leading to a tender moment where they share a makeshift picnic under an awning. It's these small, food-centric vignettes that make *King of the Hill* so relatable; the show excels at showing how meals can mend relationships. The episode also touches on aging and change, with subtle nods to evolving food trends—Peggy's brief flirtation with organic produce feels prescient in today's farm-to-table era. Overall, it's a warm, satisfying installment that grills up the Hills' enduring bond without overcooking the sentiment.

Perhaps the most chaotic of the bunch is "When Joseph Met Lori, and Made Out with Her in the Janitor's Closet," which spotlights Dale Gribble's son Joseph and his teenage antics. Joseph, adopted and raised in the quirky Gribble household, embarks on his first real romance, complicated by Dale's conspiracy-laden paranoia. Food weaves in through a school fundraiser involving a bake sale, where Joseph's girlfriend Lori contributes questionable brownies that spark a subplot about food allergies and hidden ingredients—echoing real-world debates on transparency in cooking. Hank gets roped in as a chaperone, leading to a memorable alley barbecue where the adults grill burgers and hot dogs while dispensing awkward advice. The episode's title alone promises hilarity, and it delivers with physical comedy and sharp dialogue, but it's the food elements that ground it in the show's Texan roots. Boomhauer's mumbled tips on marinating meat become a metaphor for navigating young love, and the resolution at a community potluck reinforces themes of forgiveness and shared meals. It's a reminder that in Arlen, conflicts often dissolve over a plate of ribs.

The finale, "To Sirloin with Love," is arguably the crown jewel, providing a poignant send-off that centers on Bobby's passion for meat judging. This episode elevates food to a starring role, as Bobby competes in a state fair meat-judging contest, showcasing his knowledge of cuts, marbling, and preparation techniques—skills honed from years of watching Hank at the grill. The title cleverly nods to the classic film, but here it's all about sirloin steaks as a symbol of legacy. Hank beams with pride as Bobby identifies the perfect ribeye, but tensions arise when Bobby considers a future beyond Arlen, perhaps in the culinary world. Interwoven are subplots involving the neighbors: Bill's disastrous attempt at low-carb dieting leads to a binge on Peggy's apple brown betty, while Dale experiments with "survivalist" jerky recipes. The episode culminates in a massive backyard feast, where the entire cast gathers for what feels like a last supper—grilled brisket, coleslaw, beans, and all the fixings. It's here that the show delivers its emotional payload, with Hank reflecting on change while flipping burgers, encapsulating the series' core message: food isn't just sustenance; it's tradition, community, and love.

Watching these episodes on Hulu in 2023, it's striking how *King of the Hill* anticipated modern food culture. The show's emphasis on grilling as an art form predates the explosion of barbecue competitions on TV, and its portrayal of regional eats feels more relevant amid today's focus on authenticity and locality. Hank's disdain for "fancy" foods mirrors ongoing debates about fusion cuisine versus traditional methods, while Bobby's culinary curiosity hints at the rise of young foodies influenced by social media. Yet, the humor remains timeless—subtle, character-driven, and free of the cynicism that plagues some contemporary animations. The animation style, with its grounded realism, makes the food scenes pop; you can almost smell the smoke from Hank's grill.

That said, these episodes aren't without flaws. Pacing can feel rushed, as if the writers were cramming in resolutions after the show's abrupt cancellation. Some plotlines, like Joseph's romance, resolve a bit too neatly, and the food gags occasionally lean on stereotypes of Southern eating. But these are minor quibbles in an otherwise delightful package. For longtime fans, it's a chance to revisit Arlen's culinary landscape—from the Mega Lo Mart's processed horrors to the homemade delights of family dinners. New viewers might appreciate it as a gateway to understanding American food regionalism, with Hulu's streaming format allowing for binge-watching that pairs perfectly with a home-cooked meal.

In the end, "Season 14" serves as a fitting epilogue, marinating in the flavors that made *King of the Hill* special. It's not revolutionary, but it's comforting, like a well-seasoned steak. As food TV continues to evolve—with shows like *The Bear* dissecting kitchen chaos or *Somebody Feed Phil* exploring global eats—*King of the Hill* reminds us of the quiet joy in everyday grub. If you're firing up Hulu, grab some propane and get grilling; these episodes are best enjoyed with a side of nostalgia. (Word count: 1,248)

Read the Full Eater Article at:
[ https://www.eater.com/food-tv/899423/king-of-the-hill-season-14-review-hulu ]