Hell's Kitchen: The Trump Card

When I first saw the advertisements for Hell's Kitchen a few years ago, I wrinkled my nose in disgust. At that time, I knew nothing about Gordon Ramsey, but I had determined he was the greatest asshole I'd yet seen on TV, and swore I'd never watch that mockery of a show. At the time, I was also far less of a foodie than I am today. Of course, now times have changed, and Gordon Ramsey is one of my most favorite food personalities. I understand him.

So when I saw that I could set up a recording for Hell's Kitchen on my DVR, I thought "What the hell," and set up the series recording (which is poorly consistent as it is being aired on Fox Reality.) A few episodes eventually recorded, and last week, I sat down to watch the first few that had recorded from the 2005 season. My mind was blown.

My gripe for the past two years, while watching Top Chef, has been simply that it lacks the gusto of a true cooking competition. Many of the competitions are simply ridiculous, and few really test a chef's ability in the kitchen. The judges are too kind unless a food is simply inedible. Worst of all, to me, a chef's ability to truly work as a team with his peers is completely lost: all contestants work as individuals and never truly look at the success of the entire team as one would look at in a kitchen. The chefs also tend to cook for their judges, and not for their audience (who never pays anyway.) And, although I have been bothered by these trends, there are many shining and interesting moments that allow me to derive a certain enjoyment from the Top Chef competition.

Hell's Kitchen, as I should have expected from Gordon Ramsey, is a no-bullshit program. It recognizes that a chef cooks in a kitchen, and that a kitchen consists of a working team. This requires leadership skills, and it requires a great deal of swallowing down one's own ego to get things done. It doesn't just require the knowledge to be able to cook a dish; it requires the ability to work in a fast-paced, demanding environment, and the willingness to pick up the slack of your team members, to be versatile in the kitchen. And, most importantly, your food is always going to be judged, on a nightly basis, by paying customers that will, on the most part, be strangers to you. Hell's Kitchen points out, as harsh and blunt as it can, that it takes an extraordinary person to be a quality chef.

I regret not having watched Hell's Kitchen until now (and doubly regret that I cannot get these episodes recorded fast enough.) I take back the harsh words I offered it privately in the past. This is a cooking competition that I can admire, one that can prove that reality shows don't always have to be about personal drama.

Pea Soup

"It looks like that someone threw up, someone else added ham and they put it in a bowl for you to eat. YUCK !"
Experience Project, I Hate Pea Soup

For those of you who feel this way about pea soup - it's okay. Even lovers of this old soup find it hard to disagree with the sentiment. When you take a green or yellow starchy vegetable, and mash it or slow cook it, well - the results are going to be of a similar color. And, after all, we are an extraordinary people, who supposedly have taste buds in our eyeballs. That which looks like vomit, must therefore taste like vomit.

It is actually strange enough that I, who as a child, like many, detested vegetables of most kinds, adored pea soup. Come to think of it, I tended toward vegetables most hated (peas, brussel sprouts, okra) and veered from those more liked or known (lettuce, tomato, onion.) But that's another story. I was still a picky eater as a child, and if I didn't like the looks of something, then my lips were tight-shut, no matter how much I got yelled at. Pea soup, then, should have been a given.

Nevertheless, something remained eternally compelling about the smoky, earthy flavor of peas, potatoes, carrots, and ham, slow cooked all day. Maybe it's because the soup goes back to our earthen, hearth roots, where meals stewed in a pot over the fire in the center of the home were a staple. The ingredients, too, are simple and richly draw us back to the farm. Of course the soup isn't beautiful to look at, but that doesn't matter. It is beautiful to taste; it returns us to the deep, earthly roots of our race, of our humanity, of our soul.

So the next time you're faced with pea soup, take a taste of it, and think back to your memories. Perhaps you have no childhood memories, but below that, deep down, is the memory in your flesh, of a food more natural and a cooking more soulful than your street-fare cuisine.

Grilling Basics

First of all, I will freely admit that I am not a grilling, barbecuing kind of woman. I do not currently own a grill. In my childhood, the one grill that was possessed was used on less than a handful of occasions. I have, though, eaten plenty of grilled foods and I approve of the cooking method when used right. When used poorly, however, the grill is going to not only ruin the appetite of those eating its offerings, but may also ruin the appetite of nearby people.

One of my neighbors has a charcoal grill. From what I know of charcoal grills, they can be the most difficult to control or master, but produce some of the best grills when used right. From what I know of charcoal itself, it is not well used in damp weather. Yesterday, it was constantly stormy, going from rain to sleet to hail and back again, with brief interludes of cold wet winds. Naturally, charcoal is not going to heat well in these conditions. To assist with heating, one is to use lighter fluid - not gas - on charcoal grills.

But the air smelled like gas for hours, and the fresh cool air that was coming through our windows was terribly tainted (the smell is being washed out of the bed sheets as I write.) So, after waiting tentatively for a few hours, I daringly stuck my head out the window, hoping for fresh air. Alas, while the gas had begun to dissipate, the air stunk now of badly burnt grease still resting on the cooling charcoals. It took another hour or so to be able to open the windows safely.

Self-made grill masters, I beg of you: learn carefully the basics of grilling before even purchasing, much less using, a grill. And remember, if at home, and the conditions aren't right - there is a nice oven and stove inside you can use. While campers may forgive your stink on a damp night, there is no excuse for giving indigestion to your neighbors at home.

Top Chef: Winners, Lessons Learned

Like other episodes in the finale, the final episode has left little to say. I must applaud Top Chef for keeping, for the most part, their heads a little above the reality-show crap that they dig into during the normal season.

I must also say that Hung, Dale, and Casey were all winners in this competition. Alas, Casey lost her chance by letting herself be thrown off by her stressful circumstances. Had she not, the decision for who was the final winner would have become ten times more difficult than it was. Hung was technically extremely deserving of the title he earned (unlike last season's fiasco); Dale was earning of the soul. Casey, I think, would claim perseverance and competitive spirit. Of all the contestants, Casey kept a professional, cool attitude, and I admire her deeply for that. Had I bothered to vote for fan favorite, she would have been my vote (although CJ's humor comes a top second.)

If anything cooks should learn from this season, it is what the soul of food is all about. It is difficult to define this exactly; it varies from chef to chef. But there are a few things that it can be contained within. Food with soul is something that the cook would not only eat, but want to eat. It is food that is composed thoughtfully, with as much care as an painter gives their painting, or a poet their poem. Most importantly, food with soul is one that the cook cares deeply about. Although food without soul can taste delicious, food with soul remains in the memory, in the heart.

Hopefully Bravo has learned from its successes this season, and continues that as they continue to film Season 4. Although we can't take the reality show taint from Bravo, the contestants of this season have proven that they can stand above the drudge and compete in a true spirit of a cooking contest.

Personal Note: I apologize for the delay in posting; I have been very sick.

Home Cooking Disclaimer

I feel the need to make this disclaimer now, before things get messy. This disclaimer applies to parents, grandparents, and others who bore the burden of cooking dinners for their families.

From time to time, foodies will criticize home cooking. Sometimes it is to mock the mistakes of others' parents and caretakers. Most often, though, they are directing their attention to their own memories, to the foods, fair and poor, of their own youth. Naturally, these foods have embedded emotions in their chefs as well as their "customers," and so can arise the defense of these foods as a sacred category, unable to be assaulted.

However, these home cooked meals cannot be held faultless, for ill or for good. The foods that each of us grow up with shape us as people, shape our attitudes toward food and its ingredients, direct or turn away our attention from cooking and culinary arts. The kitchens of our youth are the hearths of our hearts; we remember fondly into our age our favorite meals, the times we were honored to help in the kitchen. But likewise, we also remember with disgust the meals that went wrong.

It isn't that we are expressing hate for their creators. We have created dishes of our own that we have hated, and have not hated ourselves in the process. In my own experience, I can recount many things that I found distasteful in that memory of the kitchen and its products, but I remember the care of my mother in cooking them with fondness. I do not hold her to blame because she had no harmful intent. But the dishes were what they were, good or bad, and can be judged independent of their creators.

So if you read something in this blog, or elsewhere, that points negative attention to a home cooked dish, do your best to restrain your defensive emotions. Food is personal, and we are entitled to our opinions of those dishes. If we wish to assault the chef, we are witty enough to do so - and in home cooking, we are rarely wont to.

Slow-Cooked Shortcake

Yesterday I watched an episode of Semi-Homemade Cooking with Sandra Lee, in which she made Mixed Berry Crumble. I was enchanted with the idea of slow-cooking fruit for a dessert, recalling that I had some frozen strawberries remaining in the fridge. The idea of a warm strawberry shortcake came to mind, and so I snooped around on the internet, glancing at a few recipes that used a slow cooker with fruit.

I ended up using the remaining strawberries, along with half a bag of Marion blackberries (about 8 oz each.) To that I added one-fourth of a cup of sugar (the strawberries were pre-sweetened, but the blackberries were not), a cup of water, and the zest from two limes. It slow cooked for about 2 hours, at which point it had reduced enough to be considered a compote - but it smelled wonderful. We added a little cornstarch mix, and then chilled it. I had originally planned to add a little vanilla flavor, but forgot (and don't mind, it was unnecessary.)



Served up on mini-shortcake rounds with a dollop of whipped cream (shown without due to their smaller size.) The flavor is perfect: within the first bite, you taste the sweet tart of the blackberries, but that is soon followed by the warm aftertaste of strawberries, both teased with the hint of lime.

Best part of the experience, outside of the food? Learning that slow cooking does not need to be limited to savory dishes. It served the fruit very well, and I'm eager to use it again for other sweet dishes.

Top Chef: Noteable Bravo-Blog Quotes

Anthony Bourdain:

While former rodeo clowns constitute a major part of MY show's demographic (they like to watch on satellite from their meth labs), I don't really know what they were doing in the semi-finals of a cooking competition. It was confusing. Not just to me -- but to the contestants. Were these REAL cowboys? Or post-ironic cowboys?

Given the dearth of suitable English adjectives in the mountains of Andorra (a country you probably haven't even heard of), from whence Ripert hails, I hope he won't mind if I translate his comments: "Dry elk shank ... horseradish ... sour cream ... bourbon ... red wine, balsamic vinegar, garlic, cherries, sage butter ... and now you want me to choose between overwhelming blue cheeses? What the **** is THAT about?!"

Tom Colicchio:

Sadly, all the funny shtick in the world couldn’t save the dish. Nor could the mystifying blue cheese options -- the dish didn’t need a pungent Roquefort or Gorgonzola to finish it, and leaving the choice of cheese to the guest seemed wishy-washy and inconclusive.

Ted Allen:

(An aside: Dale, does your mother need the Brokeback Mountain visual of you sleeping with “a few” cowboys? And how many is “a few?” Bad gay chef!)

Rocco DiSpirito:

I’m not sure if this episode of Top Chef reminded me of the Marx Brothers film Go West, Jim Carrey’s Dumb and Dumber, or Billy Crystal’s City Slickers. Whatever, it might as well have been set in Dead Man’s Gulch. Between the bales of hay, cowboy hats, and chaps, you might have confused the Aspen scenery with the back lot of MGM studios. All that was missing was Jim Carrey riding up on his mini bike or Jack Palance to start doing push-ups, and casting would have been complete.

Even [Eric Ripert] had the bemused look of “oh la la, ridiculous” when he walked away from the TCCs saying, “Good luck. You’re going to need it.” I had this image of Tom, Eric, Gail, and Padma all sitting in director’s chairs, cross-legged, sipping espresso as they watched our poor TCCs toil away.

Brian starts the Cirque de Ho-down off by burning sage, presumably to drive out the negative energy left behind by...the donkeys?

Perhaps if you were to wrap the elk in bacon and lard it with bacon and serve it with bacon bits and a thick butter sauce for good measure it might not taste like warmed cardboard.

Post note: For those of you who adore chefly humor, please laugh at the latest maniacal delusions of Bourdain and Ruhlman.

Top Chef: The 'game' is on, down by the river

Given the beautiful natural atmosphere of Aspen - a far cry from the crazy cities of Miami and New York that the chefs already visited - it seems right that the producers would come up with challenges befitting the atmosphere. And yet it seems as if they committed a crime against the remaining contestants, throwing them after their break into the familiar circus of early season. (It stands to mention briefly that TC4 is going to be in Chicago, of all places.) The Quickfire challenge was an echo of countless quickfires past: a race to see who could be the least clumsy in difficult circumstances. Likewise, the Elimination challenge was yet another catering for a "special dinner." TC's formulas have become fairly clear to us now, and they will need to change them or become even more circus-y in Season 4 to keep us guessing and entertained (although their contestants are truly the shining red noses in the sea of clowns.)

But enough of that. I cannot help but wonder, like Bourdain, why Ripert was made the guest judge on plates of elk, when he is an expert on seafood. Ah, but he was judging the quickfire of trout! Well, I have been corrected by cheftestant Brian: trout is not a seafood (one must suppose that it is, then, poultry, beef, pork, or vegetable.) It is a pity though that the trout used were probably not fresh caught at the stream that morning; they were likely purchased from a fish market. The contestants were clearly out of their element; one only needed to watch Hung leave his fish get cold, completely uncovered by a river inevitably buzzing with insects, or fish and pots falling to the grass.

As for the Elimination challenge, I think Casey says it best: "I don't know how you guys do it." Like most modern chefs, Casey ascribes to the KISS motto: "Keep it simple, stupid." This late in the competition, and given the judges gracing the table, you might think that the chefs would be counting ingredients in their head, being more critical of their choices. But these are young chefs, and in the effort to impress, they are raiding pantries and refrigerators. In Dale's case, it made a rare chance at success, furnished in part by the luck that his other contestants made enough mistakes to lower their standing. But, should that mentality furnish a menu, Dale will have a high risk of finding his tables empty.

One last note: a great deal of time is being spent talking about Hung and his lack of "soul" in his dishes, and, more importantly, the lack of a demonstration of his culinary heritage. It is definite that Hung is proud of being a kitchen baby when he speaks; but one must wonder why he is restraining his cooking to everything but Vietnamese. It seems to me that he is intentionally hiding or repressing those flavors he grew up with (and for those doubting his parents had a Vietnamese restaurant, please verify that Kim's Dragon Restaurant is, at the least, Pan-Asian.) Is he ashamed? Does he feel the pressure to be part of the melting pot, that he must let his own culture melt away to succeed in the United States? Is he trying to "break away" by cooking with as little Asian influence as possible? I must also wonder, if so proud and honored by his mother and that restaurant of his youth, why did he not return to help her business after an accident almost closed them down - why is it his brother instead? Whatever does go on in the mind of Hung, I hope he has enough courage to show at least a little of his own soul in the finale.

Yesterday's Disappointments

Thai Udon Noodle and Peanut Tossed Salad (Sweet Tomatoes/Souplantation): As described, romaine and napa cabbage, julienned carrots, udon noodles, peanuts, red peppers, and a peanut sauce/dressing. On the plate: initially appetizing in appearance. Alas, I could see little napa cabbage as promised - only a few stem chunks (not where the taste of napa lies). One piece of red pepper in my serving. Once inspected and tasted: rejected. The udon noodles were undercooked; from the same bowl, my husband had one that was still crisp. The red pepper (I was the only one of both of us who had any red pepper) was inedible; it was a cut piece of the end of the pepper. The romaine sealed the deal, however: some of it was old and beginning to rot. Once I tasted the bitterness of darkened, soggy leaves, that salad was not going any further into me. Disappointing? Absolutely. Had the lettuce used been quality, the red peppers present and properly served, and the udon cooked properly, the salad would have been perfectly appetizing. The peanut sauce was not overwhelming. The carrots seemed unnecessary, however, and added nothing to flavor.

Tamales with BBQ Chicken, Red Onion, Cilantro, & Smoked Gouda Cheese. Served with Mango-Ginger BBQ Sauce. (Corn Maiden): First of all, the BBQ sauce served with the tamales was bizarre. It was very runny, and smelled syrupy; tasted, it was flavorless except for an unidentified bite (it was not ginger). It was thrown away, and had it been had with the tamales (which sounded terribly delicious), it would have ruined them further. The BBQ chicken of the tamale was not what was expected at all. With the compliment of smokiness of Gouda and sweetness of red onion, you would expect the BBQ sauce of the chicken to be tangy, with just a hint of sweet - your typical, off-the-shelf hickory BBQ sauce. Wrong; the BBQ sauce may have even well been the very mango-ginger that was served on the side. The BBQ had a tiny hint of tang, and an flood of sweetness. While the red onion was cooked wonderfully to bring out its sweetness, the Gouda was the only thing that saved the flavor of the tamale enough to make it edible.

Top Chef: Noteable Bravo Blog Quotes

Anthony Bourdain:

...the Trial of The Chicken is traditionally seen as a near religious passage, a station of the cross, an early task on the One True Path to chefdom. Just as it is widely believed that "you can tell everything you need to know about a cook by how he makes an omelet", the cooking of a simple chicken makes an open book of whoever prepared it.

I don't care how fine Brian's “Sausage Shepherd's Pie (with Chicken)” tasted. Let's assume it was indeed, delicious. Spectacularly so. I would argue that it was an effort more redolent of chickenshit than actual chicken.

Ted Allen:

Let’s put aside Top Chef’s decision to portray him as the sweet, lovable gay guy. Dale has capital-B balls.

Rocco DiSpirito:

At the Judge’s Table [Sara] tried to tell some story about how she is reserved. Yeah, like a banjo at a square dance.

[Dale] said something about how you could tell who got laid the night before by their food. If that is true, I would hate to know what happened to him the night before this challenge when he decided to do a duet of two things, neither of which tasted good.