All in the Family: The Rivalry Heats Up

Gael Greene expresses shock over Suser Lee's reaction to his Quickfire Challenge performance.

Since we judges are normally stashed away in coolers during QuickFire I had no idea how shocked and devastated Susur Lee was by his flameout. As we watch him tackling the fruit, he is so sure of his superior knife skills that he is convinced his fruit dish can’t fail to win “artistic honors.” And then his dismal score puts him in a snit. What a tantrum. How quickly he blames the judges for not understanding Asian ways. So petty. And so wrong. Quite frankly, I’m shocked to see him so unlike the charming Susur Lee whose food I loved and raved about at Shang in the Thompson Hotel on Manhattan’s Lower East Side.

And given Jody’s self-doubt as she analyzes the competitors and sets out to tackle her tart only to freeze the dough, I find her triumph and surprise at winning to be quite touching. Since this was a High Stakes QuickFire, she is thrilled to get a free pass into the finals.

Lucky for Susur Lee, his wife on the phone that night did not indulge his megalomania. Instead she calmed him down, so he could focus on the real goal: “My job is to win,” he vows. “Now I am very motivated.” All these master chefs come to win but rarely are they as fierce and determined as Susur and quite frankly not all of them are as experienced.

The Elimination Challenge, to modernize a classic family dish and please the cast and crew of Modern Family, turns out to be nightmare face-off. Just shopping to feed 125 people, managing the prep work, then moving it all to the Studio canteen, reheating and serving – coitus interruptus as Jody calls it  -- is a killer assignment. That’s why they’re all on the run.
Seeing the kitchen action we judges do not normally see as the show airs on Bravo is a revelation. I am always surprised to see what chefs help each other in the kitchen and which ones stand back pretending not to see a colleague wrestling with disaster. Maria – whose sweet disposition comes right through the plasma screen -- suggests Debbie sauté her undercooked pork belly but alas, neither the glaze, the apple butter or Debbie’s wonderful winter squash slaw, can overcome the chewiness of undercooked pork. And in the combination of precooking and warming, Maria’s salmon went in the opposite direction – too cooked. All the judges loved her almond milk but that wasn’t enough to overcome the salmon syndrome.

A simple flaw like too much salt defeated Jody’s homey braised chicken thighs with semolina gnocchi. Still she might have won if Susur’s roasted chicken curry with corn and vegetable cake had not been totally delicious. It was impressive too that he also managed to make his Indian garnishes, the tomato jam chutney and corn with fresh chili mint chutney to feed 125, calm, comfident, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

All three critics agreed. Five stars for Susur. With the Modern Family vote, he got the highest score ever so far. I wonder if our enthusiasm for his cooking would have been diluted if we could have heard his unfiltered comments caught by the cameras. It’s how the food looks on the plate and how it tastes in your mouth that is supposed to count, of course. But I would be affected by attitude too. Lucky for Susur, we’re mostly distanced from kitchen tantrums. He’s looking like the master to beat right now.

Francis Lam: What's on the Menu?

The critic focuses on the first part of the cooking process.

When I talked with Chris Cosentino about cooking last season's Top Chef Masters finale dinner, he said one part of it was easy --the menu planning. The challenge then was to cook four courses, with a theme of letters: a love letter, an apology, a thank you note, and a letter to his future self. Chris' menu came together quickly because, he said, "I know who I am." The wording of the challenge was provocative, but it was really just a way of asking the chefs to tell a story about themselves through their food. It left lots of room for personal interpretation. 

This year, the finale challenge also asked the chefs to dig into their personal lives but with more specific instruction. Asking Jen, Bryan, and Douglas to make dishes that represented their past selves, their current lives, something from a mentor, and something from a protégé was asking them to encapsulate their careers in four courses. (Only giving them a day and a half to do it meant that no one could lie on a therapist's couch to unpack their memories, which is probably a good thing.) 

I loved this challenge, and I was happy to not actually be there as a judge, but rather as a diner, as an observer, and as a fan. Without having to worry about who did “better” than the rest, I could just focus on the food and, even more, on the insight into each chef’s culinary life. Who these great chefs thought they were.   

I loved the way Douglas’s first thoughts were to his formative cooking experience, the first dish he remembers making in a restaurant, and how it became his mussel billi bi soup. I once had a version of that soup at his restaurant Cyrus in 2007. It had so much mussel flavor I can still taste it. To taste it at finale was, for me, like the past come back to life. And for him, someone now so inspired by the lightness of Japan, to reach back to the glories of a wallop of cream and brine… it felt like he was starting the meal by going back to his roots. 

I loved the way Bryan went in another direction, going to the first dish he ever cooked for his wife. I thought his dish was fantastic: the sweet subtlety of crab hovered over the grains and the egg yolk, but honestly, I also could’ve eaten the OG version of a sautéed chicken breast with crab and cream sauce. I kind of miss food with names like Chicken Chesapeake. Who will be the brave soul to bring back ye olde cruise liner food in their restaurant? But anyway, Bryan’s cooking impressed me through the whole season with its creativity and intelligence—I was shocked to realize he hadn’t actually won a challenge until the end—but it was so great to see, in the end, how grounded he feels in his emotional side as a person and as a chef. The dish was light; it felt full of possibility. You could tell his was cooking with the memory of being at the start of something, the excitement of it. 

And I loved it when Jen took the “something borrowed” part of the dinner as a chance to nod to her old mentor Wolfgang Puck, from when he was borrowing from Chinese cuisine at Chinois on Main. Her “Chinese duck with shiitake broth, eggplant, daikon, grilled bok choy, and duck wonton” was too busy, too over the top, too 1992… and just freaking awesome. Just like L.A., really. (I used to think that L.A. is stuck in the '80s and '90s, until I realized that, no, it’s just that in the '80s and '90s, the rest of the country was just trying to be like L.A.) I hadn’t had the pleasure of eating her food before Top Chef Masters, but I could see a direct line between what she was “borrowing” and her own food: it pulls flavors from a global palette—pulls them mightily, puts her back into it—to come up with thoroughly American dishes. Her cooking is so muscular, so full of umami and depth and, when she wants to use them, pungent spices. 

There were many other dishes that day: thrilling ones (Bryan’s white-on-white dessert), masterful ones (I mean, you try to wrap a piece of fish in individual noodle strands like Douglas did!), just bang-up delicious ones (Jen’s paella gnocchi. That is all.) But I most loved seeing into these chefs’ past and how they went from there to who they are today. I haven’t had a chance to talk with them yet, but I wonder which of them will say that writing the menu was easy. All three of these chefs were so good, their cooking so assured, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that from all of them.