To say that Meghan, Duchess of Sussex’s new lifestyle show is unrelatable isn’t a revelation.

Unlike Meghan or her celebrity friends, most viewers can’t offload the tedious task of making a balloon arch, a skill she demonstrates in Episode 2, to a paid professional. And, if you are making one for your kid’s birthday party, it’s less likely to be a joyful act of doing something for your child, as Meghan asserts, and more likely to be one more item you have no choice but to do because you don’t have paid help.

As all of us overtired parents know, a balloon arch happens late at night after a long day of working and parenting, not in a gorgeous guest cottage with a view of Los Padres National Forest, and the reward is not the eventual smile on your kid’s face; it’s finally being able to go to bed.

From tasks like a balloon arch (or stuffing favor bags) that people do because they must, to the tasks that you don’t have the time or resources to do (like making beeswax candles from the hives on your sprawling grounds), “With Love, Meghan” is obviously disconnected from the lives of its viewers.

As many critics and viewers have pointed out, Netflix’s new lifestyle show is out of touch and “wildly unattainable.” But isn’t that the point?

Haven’t icons like Martha Stewart and Ina Garten always sold aspirational and lavish ways of living and cooking? To paraphrase Mindy Kaling, one of the most enjoyable guests on the show, describing mixing natural peanut butter before school: Nobody’s got time for this.

We watch these shows because we wish we could step into our backyard and pick fresh strawberries to pickle (you read that right) or make homemade bath salts for a soak at the end of the day, not because we are really planning to bake fresh focaccia bread ourselves (but if you want to, you can find the recipes from the show here).

The point of shows like “With Love, Meghan” and many of its predecessors is not to be relatable. Didn’t anyone else watch episodes of Garten’s “Barefoot Contessa”? If you did, you’d know that her recipes were usually made with high-quality ingredients, many of which she sourced from small specialty stores in the Hamptons that you were forced to watch her shop at. Similarly, in nearby New York, Chef Nancy Fuller frequently traversed friends’ farms in the Hudson Valley for seasonal produce to cook on “Farmhouse Rules.”

However, when Meghan is similarly out of touch, the response to her lifestyle and cooking show is especially scathing. (Although Netflix must be happy with it, confirming that the show will return for a second season in the fall, People reported.)

On the one hand, I understand the impulse to lambast the show. The eight episodes appear to have no unifying theme except for watching Meghan make things as she walks around barefoot in a beautiful house with bountiful gardens and occasionally pops some bubbles to share with that episode’s guest.

And, unlike Ina or Nancy, she isn’t even at her own house. Instead, it’s a stunning home that is being used as a set to protect her privacy. There are two exceptions. The first is a cringey scene at her beehive in which it becomes clear that her beekeeper manages the hives by himself. The second is an egg-collecting scene at her chicken coop, Archie’s Chick Inn. This name tracks with one of the only bits of Meghan’s personality you see in the show; she loves an awkward pun or play on words.

The consistency of the show is the format. In each episode, Meghan is teaching the guest a skill, like how to make food for a kids’ garden party, and sometimes the guest is the expert teaching her how to make Chinese dumplings (friend Vicky Tsai) or Korean fried chicken (Chef Roy Choi). In between, the show flashes back to segments of Meghan prepping the ingredients for those visits or prepping for the guest’s arrival. After all, according to Meghan, it’s all about the guest experience.

Given this framing and with a generous squinting of one’s eyes, it is possible to see a theme emerge. Meghan loves to feed people as part of hosting them.

“The only thing better than eating food is making food for someone and watching them eat it with delight,” she tells the show’s director, Michael Steed, after he bites into a breakfast sandwich she makes for him.

Even though every episode is different and there appears to be no rhyme or reason to the food Meghan prepares or the crafty activities she demonstrates for viewers, the one consistent thing is that she always wants to welcome her guests with a special touch. From a harvest basket overflowing with veggies and herbs from her garden to homemade donuts sprinkled with flowers and even lavender-infused towelettes to freshen up after a hike, Meghan goes to extravagant lengths to make her visitors feel welcome.

It’s these “little things,” like making a bouquet for mahjong night with the girls, that brings her pleasure. It’s impossible to watch an episode without learning that Meghan enjoys “taking something simple and elevating it.” (This is also why she used to run her lifestyle blog, The Tig).

So maybe this often-repeated sentiment and her love of hosting is what ties the show together. Maybe it’s called “With Love, Meghan” because that’s how she signs the beautifully calligraphed cards she writes to thank guests for coming. Maybe she hopes the show will be a gift to viewers, not because it’s an ego trip (as some critics have claimed) but because she truly wants them to feel welcome to enjoy their everyday lives and share that joy with others.

It’s a generous reading, but I don’t think it’s necessarily a false one.

As a kid, my favorite thing was coming home from school, making a snack and settling in front of the couch to watch a cooking show on the Food Network. It was relaxing. There was no drama. No stakes. There weren’t supposed to be. I didn’t need drama or an imagined connection with the host preparing the food. I just wanted the calm, meditative experience that comes with following a recipe or chopping vegetables.

“With Love, Meghan” — as uneven as the execution may be — captures this feeling. At some point during Episode 1, my 6-year-old daughter wandered into my bedroom. “Can I watch, too?” she asked. She’s used to me saying no because most of what I watch isn’t appropriate for her, but this time, I could say yes.

She snuggled in closer, and my son quickly joined us. They didn’t care that the rainbow-arranged fruit spread wasn’t a novel idea or that Meghan used flower sprinkles too liberally. Instead, they just soaked in the progression of steps, watching things evolve from ingredients on a counter to a beautifully arranged dish.

Perhaps this is the point of the show. It’s not called “At Home with Meghan.” She never says she isn’t going to keep her distance or maintain her privacy. She isn’t even promising a unifying theme. Instead, she’s sharing a few of the things she loves in the hopes that we may love them, too.

After all, isn’t that what it means to be a host?