While the new season of 'Top Chef: Masters' premieres tonight (after the regular version's chefs get together for a reunion - gasp! OMG! Anger, jealousy erupts! Elia getting personal! Steven wearing a suit! - I've been busy watching season 2 of this advanced version of 'Top Chef' on demand. And I've noticed some stark differences between the two shows; there's enough variability that I thought I'd write it all out.
First of all, these guys are the big guns. President Obama's favorite chef Tony Mantuano is present, as is Rick Moonen, foodie crush and Swedish-Ethiopian amalgam Marcus Samuelsson, the uber-creative Susan Feniger, and Susur Lee. Oh, and Jonathan Waxman. None of these people are here to prove themselves. They're established chefs, heads of their haute mini-empires - one has the approval of POTUS to boot. And everyone can cook, with more than just proficiency, outside of their training (Feniger cooked up dal on one occasion, and Lee was on fire with a Japanese entree course in the finale). At one memorable moment, Waxman actually says, "I don't actually give a [expletive]."
And that about sums up the cooking on the show, too (at least, until the finale). Mantuano and Waxman in particular cook with the practiced ease of years in a kitchen, and the two lumber away smilingly when it comes their turn to pack knives. Yes, people are still running to fridges, but no one's actually
competing. In one of the later episodes, Mantuano jumps to the defense of Carmen Gonzalez, chef supreme whose food had suffered because she was busy organizing the chefs at a wedding, saying it was a group effort, and Carmen had helped in other ways. These chefs are older - they're not the electric brothers Voltaggio, and lack Richard Blais' edge or Mike Isabella's braggadocio. They're cooking as usual, they just happen to be in front of some cameras. No big, their attitudes seem to say.
Hosting and judging is also markedly different. Kelly Choi is a matchstick of a woman, always dolled up in shiny jewelry. She lacks Padma's earthy connection to food (as she
never appears to be eating
anything), but definitely has more personality, unafraid to interject her opinion during judging. And for some strange reason, the chefs are never in front of the judges during quickfires. It's as though the producers decided having judges and chefs in the same room would lead to open challenging from the latter to former. I definitely wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of Waxman's flat, withering argument about skirt steak: "I couldn't disagree with you more." There is no 'Top Chef' meekness here.
Judges are also of a different pedigree here. There's Jay Rayner, and What's-his-face Oseland from the magazine that's not 'Gourmet,' and a perpetually hat-topped woman whom, despite watching some six episodes today, I could not identify. It was a bit disappointing, really - might've been more interesting to get these chefs' peers' opinions. Rick Bayless didn't show up until the finale, and I wouldn't have minded seeing Hubert Keller a bit earlier too. The permanent judge roster could have utilized the likes of Danny Meyer, Thomas Keller, or even recurring 'Top Chef' judge Anthony Bourdain. My roommate commented the other day that for all these fancy judges, there ought to be one "man off the street" judge, simply to state whether the food was good or not, and not to dither about the "safeness" or "textural variability of the dish." There's some truth to this, and I feel like Bourdain would've been this sort of judge, only an added bonus to his trained palate and years as a chef. He's still got a more diverse food background than anyone the producers could dig up at Saveur.
Well, until the next round of 'Top Chef: Young, Meddling Kids,' enjoy Masters. Chances are, you'll probably be getting more out of it than its contestants.
And that about sums up the cooking on the show, too (at least, until the finale). Mantuano and Waxman in particular cook with the practiced ease of years in a kitchen, and the two lumber away smilingly when it comes their turn to pack knives. Yes, people are still running to fridges, but no one's actually competing. In one of the later episodes, Mantuano jumps to the defense of Carmen Gonzalez, chef supreme whose food had suffered because she was busy organizing the chefs at a wedding, saying it was a group effort, and Carmen had helped in other ways. These chefs are older - they're not the electric brothers Voltaggio, and lack Richard Blais' edge or Mike Isabella's braggadocio. They're cooking as usual, they just happen to be in front of some cameras. No big, their attitudes seem to say.
