Some things in life don’t need polish to earn affection. They just need to feel familiar, honest, and close to home. Cookin’ Cheap was one of those things. It came along in an era when television was simpler, choices were fewer, and folks often ended up watching whatever their local PBS station served up. In many homes across the Blue Ridge and beyond, that meant an afternoon block of cooking shows that eventually gave way to a little program filmed in Roanoke, Virginia, where two men in a modest studio kitchen created something far more memorable than the dishes they made.
Cookin’ Cheap ran from 1980 to 2002 and built its reputation on laughter more than culinary skill. Laban Johnson and Larry Bly stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the cameras, working through viewer submitted recipes with no rehearsals and no retakes. If something burned, fell, or came out looking like a science experiment, the audience saw it. The charm of the show came from its honesty. Nothing was staged, nothing was glamorous, and nothing was treated as more important than simply having a good time.
Laban Johnson had already been cooking on local television when he decided to create a show of his own. He understood that his humor worked best when he had someone to bounce it off of, so he invited his friend Larry Bly to join him. Larry was already known around the region for his quick wit and on air antics as a radio DJ. Together, they created a kind of kitchen camaraderie that felt more like neighbors cutting up than professional hosts demonstrating technique.
The show’s recipes were rarely fancy. Ingredients came from cans, boxes, and freezers. Under the studio lights, casseroles and salads often looked like something only a mother could love. The hosts struggled with zip lock bags, fumbled with oven mitts, and handled knives in ways that would make a chef wince. They mispronounced ingredients, spent long stretches on mundane prep work, and joked their way through every step. The imperfections were the point. Cookin’ Cheap made viewers feel like they could do exactly what they were watching, because the men on screen were doing it the same way anyone else would.
What set the show apart was its authenticity. There was no exaggerated Southern act, no forced charm, no attempt to dress up the region. Laban and Larry were simply who they were, two Roanoke natives cooking in a small studio kitchen two hours up the road from countless viewers who felt like they knew them. That sincerity resonated far beyond the local broadcast area. The show became so popular that PBS affiliates across the country picked it up, making it the only original program from Blue Ridge Public Television ever to be syndicated.
For more than two decades, Cookin’ Cheap offered a kind of comfort that didn’t depend on perfect food or polished production. It offered companionship. It offered laughter. It offered a reminder that cooking doesn’t have to be intimidating or impressive to be worthwhile. When Laban Johnson passed away in 1999, Larry Bly tried to keep the show going with a new partner, but the chemistry that made the show special couldn’t be recreated. After one season, the show ended, closing the door on an era that had quietly shaped kitchens and hearts across the region.
Cookin’ Cheap remains a piece of Appalachian television history, a reminder of a time when entertainment didn’t need flash to matter. It was a show that made people feel at home, made them laugh, and made them believe that a simple meal could be enough. Even now, old episodes still circulate, carrying with them the same easy charm that once filled living rooms on hot summer afternoons. It may have been filmed in a small studio in Roanoke, but its spirit settled into homes all over the South, where simple cooking and good company have always been enough.
Discover more from Front Porch Philosophy
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
