Monsters of Television

Dude, how many food shows is this guy hosting right now?

This month in Food TV: I’ve been watching a lot of TV about food. This is not necessarily anything new but the variety of programming relating to food that is currently on your television is worthy of a moment’s pause.  I intend to complete a short series on various food programs on the air right now.

Similar to my shocking discovery last year that I was enjoying Hell’s Kitchen more than Top Chef (the DC version), a surprising little series is currently causing me to rush to my DVR on Sunday night. Note—Sunday nights—a very crowded evening of late. Yet I honestly cannot wait to watch America’s Next Great Restaurant.

I know the AV Club has been covering this show, which is surprising considering how much Todd VanDerWerff seems to hate this show. Inspired by VanDerWerff’s amusing but highly critical reviews, I thought I’d offer a few reasons why I think this series is kinda awesome.

1) The judges: After the first few episodes of every judge going , “I’m a chef and a restaurateur,” you do want to gag a bit—ego, much? But judges with egos can make for good drama. For a few weeks there, Curtis Stone and Steve Ells disagreed about everything—from whether Indian food should be made more familiar by contestant Sudhir Kandula to the very definition of a fast casual restaurant (more about that term below). Seeing these very successful reality star judges duke it out has been fun. They are unabashed about their need for the contestants to listen to them, to develop their concepts under guidance, and to show grace under pressure. Their frankness about the business of celebrity restaurants appeals to me in the same way as The Next Food Network Star’s focus on marketing and branding—I learn quite a bit about the business of food but also the business of television, in particular, reality shows.  I also learn about what these networks think of their audience—in other words, what they think of me.  These judges have found success, but based on their comments, their paths towards that success has been varied.  Steve Ells, in particular, is a great addition, since he basically lived the life of one of these contestants–main difference is he found success with Chipotle without a reality show.  But he, too, had help–a loan from his father.  His opinions add an important qualifier for the more “celebritized” chef-restaurateurs.

2) The focus on concept: From the start, the contestants with a sharper, clearer concept have done better—that is until they stopped doing better. The need for a sharp concept to expand and grow has been paramount. For example, much though America may love grilled cheese, once the judges discovered that the contestant responsible for this restaurant actually wanted to make panini (not grilled cheese sandwiches), he dropped like a dead fly. His initial idea was solid—but he did not know how to execute and develop that idea for a changing set of circumstances. You could complain that the challenge asking the contestants to make a cheap plastic game for kids who visit their restaurants is gimmicky, but it also forced the contestants to develop a visual means of expressing their concept. More than being able to talk a good game, these contestants have to relay their vision in words, in images, in the food, and in their own appearance and style.  Some do better than others, and finding the ways each concept fails to live up to the expectations of the potential investors is part of the fun of this show.

3) The contestants offer moving personal journey stories. One of the reasons I was first inspired to write about this program was Van DerWerff’s dismissal of contestant, Sandra Digiovanni. She was trying to recapture her mother’s former glory as the owner of a fast food restaurant. Sandra discussed her mother’s legacy for a few episodes before we learned that Sandra feels responsible for the closing of that restaurant. Add to that the fact that Sandra is gay, and you have quite the need for a woman to prove herself. Sure, Sandra ended up being a rather poor chef (or at least, a rather poor judge of a chef’s product), but her story remains engaging. So, too, is the story of former WNBA player Fran Harris who wanted to create a restaurant around the them of the sports wrap. Sure, you might think that a wrap is super boring, but Fran, as a contestant, had real potential—her celebrity, genuine athleticism, and her impressive energy were all solid attributes. Too bad her concept was lacking. Most moving, in my view, is Jamawn. He grew up pretty destitute until his father came and took him from his mother’s home. Now he is determined to be the best dad he can. He’s been making chicken and waffles out of his home, and this is his chance to show his kids what Daddy can accomplish. It may sound cheesy, but you root for this guy. You want him to win, to make something great for those kids. And he makes soul food, which sounds awesome to eat.  Many of these chefs know little about food, so perhaps my bias leads me to care more about those that know how to cook (Jamawn, Sudhir, even Joey), but in this show, it isn’t just cooking that is important, but also developing a concept, logo, and menu; hiring a chef and staff; interacting with the investors to develop their confidence; and selling the most important attribute to any celebrity-driven restaurant–the contestant’s own story and personality.

4) There are some super annoying contestants, which any reality show needs to succeed. Hipsters and former couple, Krystal and Greg had zero communication skills and just a tad more of an idea about their concept. Add to that the rather crucial fact that neither of two numbskulls knew a dang thing about food and you have real drama. These two were never going to win, but I have to admit that I enjoyed watching them struggle to find the solid idea behind their ironic restaurant. If you’ve never seen someone try to create an ironic restaurant, it is something to see. Most annoying and yet somewhat sympathetic is Joey, the New York Italian (which means not very Italian) who thought it was a good idea to name his family-friendly meatball restaurant Saucy Balls. Here’s the thing—the judges weren’t sure that it wasn’t a bad idea. That’s awesome! In this crazy world of trying to market to as large an audience as possible, the judges let Joey run with every crazy idea he had…so they could test it on an audience and see what would happen. Believe me, it makes you want to tune in to find out what will happen next, as when Joey decided it was a good idea to encourage the worst possible stereotype of NY Italians by dressing as a gangster. Because each episode features normal people getting to try all the food, the preferences of the audience sometimes diverge from the judges more snooty beliefs about food.  The judges have always been fair about this–if the audience prefers your food, you get immunity.  But we still get to hear why the judges have lost faith in a particular concept of contestant.  Annoying contestants have often tested well with audience food testers, so you believe less that producers are messing with the winners than you feel that American palates may not quite match Bobby Flay’s…hence the challenge of opening a fast casual restaurant.

5) The producers are apparently putting their own money on the line—how much money? That is unclear, but they keep repeating that they are investing “our own money” so it must be a lot, right? The benefit here is that one presumes they will care more about the winner being a qualified restaurant owner than about the gimmicks that sometimes mar series like Top Chef (Cook without your hands! Use your teeth to operate a can opener!).  Whatever amount the judges plan to invest, their reputations are somewhat on the line, also, so they do care about the restaurant finding success

6) You know, I can’t really explain it. But this show is kind of great.  Perhaps most fascinating is that no one really knows what is a fast casual restaurant.  It isn’t fast food, like McDonald’s, because that is too fatty and bad for you.  It doesn’t have waiters, so it isn’t Steak ‘n’ Shake.  Chipotle definitely qualifies.  And I imagine Panera and Noodle Company may count as well.  But I get the sense that even the judges aren’t fully sure what is a fast casual restaurant.  So as the contestants try to become this sort of impossible to describe phenomenon, everyone flounders a bit because the show itself is developing the definition as it happens.  Somehow, this appeals to me.  It is like we are seeing a type of restaurant be born–twice.  These judges are therefore somewhat evangelical in their efforts–they want to cater to America’s fast paced lifestyle, but they also want to impress upon the audience that food doesn’t have to be terrible to be quick and satisfying.  There’s something slightly (just slightly) noble about a desire to bring better quality food to the masses.

I’ll be in Minnesota in May, so I am definitely planning to visit this restaurant.  For once, a food show where I can actually taste the food myself.  Perhaps that is the neatest gimmick of all.