‘Bon Appétit, Your Majesty’ (2025) Netflix Series Review - A Delicious Spin Through Time

When I pressed play on Bon Appetit, Your Majesty, I expected a standard period drama with some food-related gags sprinkled in. What I got instead was a playful and surprisingly layered mix of comedy, romance, fantasy, and mouthwatering culinary spectacle, the kind of show that doesn’t just feed you a story but lets you taste it. It’s a time-slip series that never forgets to keep things funny while still investing in real emotional beats, and while it occasionally bites off more than it can chew, the result is overall a pretty satisfying meal.

The premise is both ridiculous and irresistible. Yeon Ji-yeong, a modern chef polished by years in France and newly crowned winner of a prestigious cooking competition, suddenly finds herself transported hundreds of years back into Joseon Korea. One minute she’s basking in the applause of food critics, the next she’s standing in a royal kitchen surrounded by stone stoves, suspicious guards, and etiquette rules that could have her head if she so much as seasons something wrong. I loved how disorienting the opening episode felt because that’s exactly what Ji-yeong is experiencing: one second she’s wielding modern cooking tools, the next she’s trying to whip up a sauce with only a clay pot and an open fire. This fish-out-of-water set-up is familiar, but here it works because the series leans into the absurdity with charm instead of melodrama.

The other major character anchoring the story is King Yi Heon, a monarch with the reputation of being ruthless, cold, and utterly impossible to please. He’s feared by his court and his subjects, but the only thing sharper than his authority is his palate. Naturally, Ji-yeong’s arrival rattles his fortress of icy control. Their first encounter is staged around food, and when he takes a bite of her cooking, his carefully constructed facade cracks for just a moment. That small shift sets up the larger arc: Ji-yeong trying to survive in this world by cooking for the king, and the king slowly finding his defenses disarmed by her fearless energy and unconventional flavors. The relationship is written less like a swooning romance and more like a duel of wills with growing mutual respect, which makes it far more enjoyable to watch.

What makes the series shine is its tone. Rather than sinking into heavy palace politics from the start, it keeps the humor upfront. Ji-yeong’s modern slang makes no sense to courtiers, her bafflement at rules of propriety is constant, and her habit of speaking her mind in a rigidly hierarchical society produces delightful chaos. I laughed at how she barges into situations where any normal palace worker would bow and scrape; instead, she scolds attendants or teases the king. That mismatch between centuries is mined for comedy, but never at the expense of the emotional stakes. You’re still aware she’s in real danger if she missteps too badly, which makes her quick wit feel less like a sitcom gag and more like a survival tool.

The production values make sure this comedy doesn’t feel flimsy. Costumes and sets are richly detailed, and the way the show frames its food sequences is almost cinematic. Every dish Ji-yeong prepares is shot with the kind of precision you’d expect in a high-end cooking show: glistening sauces, slow-motion knife skills, steam rising in warm candlelight. The food becomes more than decoration; it’s a dramatic device. Meals stir up nostalgia, reveal hidden vulnerabilities, and even trigger political shifts. Watching the king’s icy persona melt over a single spoonful of soup is as powerful as any monologue.

The performances sell the concept fully. Im Yoon-ah brings spark and vulnerability to Ji-yeong, balancing the character’s modern sass with flashes of fear and loneliness that remind you she’s still trapped in a hostile era. Lee Chae-min as King Yi Heon is equally compelling; he has to project both menace and longing, which is no easy mix, but he makes the slow softening of the king believable. The supporting cast keeps the palace setting lively, scheming royals, sharp-tongued maids, and rival courtiers all add layers without overshadowing the central duo. Their banter, threats, and alliances enrich the backdrop so it never feels like just a two-person play.

Of course, the series is not without its flaws. My biggest gripe is that sometimes the tone whiplashes between frothy comedy and heavy melodrama. One episode will have Ji-yeong making jokes about butter while accidentally insulting court officials, and the next will plunge into imprisonment or threats of execution. The show usually manages to keep the balance, but those sudden dark turns can feel jarring. Another issue is that the time-travel logic isn’t very consistent. The story never explains much about how or why Ji-yeong is stuck in Joseon, and after a while, the gag of her not understanding customs risks wearing thin. Luckily, the strong character dynamics keep it afloat, but I occasionally found myself wishing for a bit more inventiveness in the fantasy mechanics.

Despite these hiccups, the charm outweighs the missteps. The show succeeds because it knows what it is: a romantic comedy dressed up in period costumes, with food as its heart and fantasy as its seasoning. It doesn’t drown the audience in endless palace intrigue but instead filters that world through the eyes of a very relatable outsider. Ji-yeong’s resilience, humor, and culinary artistry keep you rooting for her, while the king’s gradual thaw keeps you invested in their evolving connection. It’s escapism done right, funny, heartfelt, and just grounded enough to keep you caring.

What I walked away with after finishing the first episode was a sense of joy. Bon Appétit, Your Majesty is the kind of show that understands television should be entertaining first and foremost. It serves comedy without shame, romance without syrup, and fantasy without convoluted rules. It’s a story about food, but also about courage, connection, and learning that sometimes the way to shift an empire is through a well-cooked meal. It made me laugh, it made me hungry, and it made me want to keep watching, even when it got a little messy in tone. For me, that’s a recipe worth recommending.

Final Score- [8/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
Follow @AnjaliS54769166 on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times