
A Netflix-friendly cookbook, a mystery author and the never-ending monetisation of victimhood
Reports are swirling that Meghan Markle is finally preparing to release a cookbook in 2026. This cookbook is apparently meant to feel exciting rather than overdue.
The cookbook has been rumoured since roughly five minutes after she landed in California and discovered branding decks.
The big unanswered question is whether Meghan is actually writing it or merely posing with olive oil.
Industry whispers suggest the recipes may belong to someone else entirely, wrapped tightly in NDAs thicker than truffle oil. That would track with how celebrity cookbooks often work when the “author” is busy being inspirational. The book is reportedly tied to her broader lifestyle ambitions rather than any demonstrated culinary ‘expertise’.
In other words, vibes over measurements. And yes, this has allegedly been part of the plan for a very long time.
NDA cuisine and the art of borrowed authenticity

If the recipes are ghost-written or licensed, that wouldn’t be shocking in the least. Many celebrity cookbooks rely on chefs, food stylists and testers who never get credit. The difference here is that Meghan’s entire brand is built on “authenticity” and “my truth”. So it makes NDA-sealed contributors especially ironic. Authenticity is fluid it seems.
There is something deeply funny about selling “home secrets” while legally silencing the people who created them.
It also raises the question of how “personal” these recipes really are. Are we talking family favourites or focus-grouped fennel salads? The branding will likely scream warmth, community and joy. Behind the scenes, it may just be contracts and controlled narratives. Delicious.
Netflix: the gift that keeps demanding deliverables

This cookbook is reportedly another cog in the Sussex Netflix machine, courtesy of Netflix.
The deal famously kicked off with Harry & Meghan, which re-lit every family grievance known to man. People watching felt second hand embarrassment for listening to them, especially to Meghan. She was very deliberate in her victimhood. It darkened every scene she was in. All those around her enabled it. Welcome to the world of victim-saint Meghan Markle. So wronged. In every way possible. According to her “truth”. Which, to be fair, is only in her head. Critics say it’s nonsense. But who are we to argue with anyone.
It also included Spare, because nothing says healing like publishing private grudges. In another victim narrative, Prince Harry told the world about his “todger” and broken necklaces and not getting an extra sausage. Because, nothing sells more than salaciously selling out one’s family. Especially when they won’t speak publicly about any allegations.
Meghan’s lifestyle-adjacent With Love Meghan followed and promptly flopped, despite optimistic press releases. The first series was watched out of curiosity. The second series was watched less and liked even less. The Christmas special flopped so hard you’d have to be living under a rock not to know it. And now Netflix won’t be selling any of Meghan’s wares in their Netflix shops, which is telling. They aren’t very optimistic about anything further to do with Meghan other than what they’ve already paid for.
The Sussexes were allegedly paid up to US$100 million for the overall deal. That figure has since become extremely fuzzy. Depending on who you ask, it was far less, milestone-based or wildly inflated. Transparency, as always, is optional.
Leaving royalty, keeping the spotlight
Harry and Meghan didn’t just leave royal life, they rage-quit it after a historically short stint.
The exit was framed as an escape from cruelty, constraints and unbearable hardship. Oh the poor things. Living a life of luxury and being of service to others was so hard for Meghan. She only lasted less than 18 months helping others. It’s not her vibe you see. She prefers to feign interest in those less fortunate. And the British Royals actually show up, rain hail or shine, to very mundane places. Meghan on the other hand, wanted to be seen at glamorous events, not to be of service to anyone. Poor lass. It was just not her scene.
Since then, the narrative has remained remarkably consistent, with Meghan as the wronged heroine in every chapter. Critics argue this victim framing has been stretched beyond breaking point.
The royal family has been thoroughly monetised in the process by both Harry and Meghan. Every deal seems to circle back to grievances rather than growth. Alienation followed, unsurprisingly. When your brand depends on public attacks, reconciliation is bad for business.
The billionaire ambition nobody’s meant to notice

There is also the not-so-subtle suggestion that Meghan has her eyes firmly on billionaire status.
Lifestyle brands, cookbooks, wellness, aspirational content and Netflix tie-ins all point in one direction. That ambition itself isn’t the issue, despite how often it’s framed as empowerment. The problem is pretending it’s all accidental or altruistic. Each new project is positioned as meaningful, heartfelt and deeply personal. Each one is also meticulously commercial. The royal family didn’t sign up to be raw material for Silicon Valley-style scaling. That tension explains a lot about the ongoing frostiness. And there’s no way back at present for Harry and none for Meghan.
Part of their “brand” is their “great love” for each other. They are always holding hands, more to show the world they are in love. If Harry isn’t holding Meghan’s hand, she immediately grabs his hand because who are they if not a unit of one? The brand is love. The hand holding is vital. Otherwise how would we know?
So when does the cookbook actually land
The cookbook is reportedly slated for some time in 2026, assuming momentum and contracts align. Expect polished photography, vague storytelling and recipes that feel more aspirational than practical.
Whether Meghan actually cooked them will remain a mystery buried under NDAs.
The book will be marketed as warmth, healing and domestic bliss. Critics will call it cynical, calculated and late to the party. Fans will call it iconic. Either way, it will be another attempt to turn personal narrative into profit. Because in Montecito, even the salt is branded.



