Meghan Markle's Netflix cookery show has reached its grand finale, and what an experience it was. The much-anticipated climax was a celebratory brunch featuring none other than her mother, Doria Ragland, who made a brief but remarkably awkward appearance.
Yet, the real spectacle of the episode wasn’t the food on display—it was the striking absence of warmth between mother and daughter. As Doria entered, dressed in a stylish tan halter-neck top and flowing orange trousers, Meghan greeted her with the most uninspired enthusiasm possible: "Oh, Mommy's here." It was the kind of greeting one might expect when a long-forgotten package arrives at the doorstep, not the reaction of a daughter welcoming her mother to a special event.
Ever the supportive parent, Doria made an effort to appreciate the farm-fresh spread before her, politely acknowledging Meghan's work. But then, something became glaringly obvious—where was the embrace? Where was the heartfelt moment of affection between them? Nowhere to be found. Later in the episode, Doria casually offers a side hug to someone else, making it abundantly clear that if there had been any display of warmth between her and Meghan, it would have made the final cut. The noticeable distance begs the question: was there an underlying tension behind the scenes, or does a simple hug not align with the carefully curated, scripted authenticity of With Love, Meghan?
Just when it seems the episode couldn't get any more bizarre, Meghan raises a toast—to herself. In what can only be described as peak self-absorption, she clinks glasses and thanks everyone for loving her. Because, apparently, that’s what brunch is all about—not celebrating friendships, family, or the joy of a shared meal, but rather turning the spotlight inward for a personal tribute. The secondhand embarrassment is palpable. Who actually toasts themselves? This isn’t a retirement party where one reluctantly acknowledges years of dedicated service—it’s a cooking show brunch that somehow morphs into a self-congratulatory spectacle, with Meghan as the star while everyone else merely plays a supporting role. The sheer audacity is almost impressive—almost.
The cringeworthy moments continue with yet another instance of Meghan’s ever-changing transatlantic persona. "Oh, Mommy's here," she announces in a painfully forced attempt at British phrasing. If she’s spent her entire life calling her mother “Mom,” why the sudden switch? Is she adopting Prince Harry’s way of referring to his late mother, Diana, or is this yet another way to subtly remind everyone of her royal ties? Whatever the reason, the effect is the same—unnatural, awkward, and entirely unnecessary.
And then there’s Doria herself, a woman who supposedly lives with Meghan and Harry yet barely registers in this scene. Rather than exuding the presence of a proud mother, she appears more like an unwilling guest, detached from the moment. If this was intended to showcase a warm family dynamic, it fails spectacularly. For someone who has long cultivated an image of being a relatable, affectionate hugger, Meghan appears remarkably selective about who actually receives that warmth—and, in this case, her own mother is not on the list.
As the credits roll on this highly orchestrated production, one thing becomes evident: Meghan Markle's greatest skill isn’t in cooking, hosting, or storytelling—it’s in making even the most basic human interactions feel rehearsed and transactional. And if this finale has proven anything, it’s that no amount of mimosas can compensate for the glaring lack of genuine connection at that table.
