Monsters of Television

This has been a super strange season of Top Chef Masters. My assessment derives from a comparison with only one other season, so perhaps I am being unfair. But some of my pleasure with the series has abated, and after some reflection, I can pinpoint two reasons for my lessened enthusiasm.

NOTE: Kelly Choi still annoys me. She is no Padma. But she’s been consistently unsatisfying, but I’ll leave my annoyance of “Padma-lite” for another post.

Last summer, Top Chef Masters satisfied on a number of levels. First, it provided a bit of a bridge between reality programs, filling the gap between the spring and summer television seasons. It also conveyed a completely different attitude than Top Chef, regular variety.

Perhaps a metaphor will help explain. I often tell students that summer classes are terrific because the teachers, too, have a “summer attitude”—less intensity, more camaraderie. Season 1 of Top Chef Masters demonstrated this same summer attitude. Not only were the chefs deeply respectful of one another, but so too were the judges respectful of the chef contestants. Also, the fact that the chefs were there to win donations for their favorite charities contributed to the goodwill the program encouraged.

In other words, everyone was there to have some fun and do some good. Sure, ego was on the line, and some chefs exposed theirs (ahem, that’s you I’m talking about, Chiarello). But in the end, the nicest and most consistent chef won, Rick Bayless. And along the way I discovered the genius of Hubert Keller, felt the love offered by Art Smith, and suffered through/laughed with the absurd puns of judge James Oseland.

This season, however, that spirit of fun has been lacking. Ultra competitive chefs like Marcus Samuelsson and Rick Moonen contribute to this enhanced intensity. Yet I can forgive contestants being eager. For me, the judges are the greater thieves of joy. On numerous occasions, they have awarded prize-winning, esteemed chefs a score of 2 out of 5. This was unheard of last season. Instead of camaraderie, we have witnessed brutal food evaluations and shocking disrespect.

I understand the brutality of Top Chef, Model 1.0, and actually the brutality is part of why I enjoy the program. Though those chefs are young and untested, they frequently purport the ego of a James Beard winner—they deserve the occasional smackdown. On Top Chef Masters, however, these low scores seem unnecessarily mean. Remember, this is about charity, people. Where did the good will go?

The second reason I have found this season so disappointing perhaps derives from my unabashed fandom of Susur Lee. This man is incredible—his food is always yummy, his style is clean, and his presentation is impeccable. Yet he has been repeatedly disadvantaged by the program’s challenges in a way that borders on xenophobia, or at least ethno-centrism.

Lee trained in Hong Kong and specializes in Asian cuisine. He represents everything the Food Network has repeatedly failed to nurture in their The Next Food Network Star program (how awful have been their Asian-specialist contestants? I mean, really.). His combinations may be exotic but they are always satisfying.

On Top Chef Masters, however, the challenges posed to the chefs have frequently forced Lee to rise above by prevailing in spite of his “exotic” background. For example, Lee and the other chefs were asked to prepare food for a tailgate party. Not only was the tradition of American football foreign to Lee, but also foreign was the American need for comfort and familiarity. Another challenge asked the chefs to prepare a wedding banquet for the two of the most uninspired and cautious eaters ever to grace Top Chef (Gotta ask, where do they find these people? They are wasting incredible food on people who eat at Applebee’s. I’d love to see the notice they posted to find this couple—”Need engaged couple that hates elitism and good food”).

This past week, however, I reached my limit for tolerating the offensive blindness to anything beyond a Western tradition. “Food of the Gods” asked the contestants to prepare a meal inspired by a Greek god. Lee had never heard of Dionysus—how in the world was he to prepare a meal inspired by him? Of course, Lee offered the judges beautiful and tasty food, and he managed to highlight the wine enjoyed by Dionysus. But it seems an opportunity wasted.

When you have some of the world’s top chefs in one room, why not celebrate their uniqueness? Why not create challenges that allow the chefs to demonstrate the specificity of their cuisine? It seems that the standards on Top Chef Masters are deeply faulty. One week, they ask the chefs to prepare food with only the ingredients found at a gas station convenience store. Then another week they vote off a chef for failing to create food that was “culinary” enough for them.

I relish each week that Lee demonstrates that a great chef can adapt to any circumstance, and I suppose that is part of the show’s goals. But I’d like to see a challenge that caters to his Eastern traditions—and then see how the other chefs fare.