Diving into the Deep End

Curtis Stone sympathizes with the plight of the vegetarian.


I recently ate with a group of people at Waterloo & City, one of my favorite meat-loving gastropubs in Los Angeles. My mouth was watering as I read through a menu boldly full of game meat terrines, sweetbreads, and smoked tongue. The vegetarian sitting across from me likely had a different reaction as she quietly navigated the menu and negotiated with the waiter over substitutions the chef could make that would still give her an amazing meal. 

These days it’s not unusual for any group of diners to include a vegetarian. What I hear over and over is that, even in the best restaurants and in the hands of the most amazing chefs, the veggie option feels like an afterthought. (Remember the Indigo Girls’ Amy Ray describing Thierry’s Fricassee of Vegetable Basquaise as the meatless side dish you’d get at a wedding?) 

So I loved that the Quickfire Challenge this week asked our chefs to consider the vegetarian option as seriously as the meat option. Kudos to Art, who hails from the meat-loving South for making a truly delicious and satisfying Mushroom and Wilted Arugula Pot Pie with a Parmesan Savory Crust. But it was Takashi’s Agedashi Tofu and Eggplant with a Veggie Somen Noodle Roll that showed off the complexity and potential of inspired vegetarian food. 

After last week’s spiritual journey to the Grand Canyon, you’d be forgiven for having a bit of whiplash as we jump right back into classic Vegas territory: the pool party, complete with bikinis, Bellinis, and Playmate Holly Madison. Holly wanted to throw a brunch party, which wasn’t much of a restriction for our chefs, as brunch can cover a range of savory and sweet dishes. Making them all canapés was more of a challenge, but restricting the use of garlic and onions was, for a chef, crippling. Art defied this last bit, but luckily his Turkey Burger with Garlic Chutney was so delicious, Holly couldn’t resist. The rule of thumb with pool party fare is, keep it simple and make it easy to eat. While Chris’ Watermelon and Tuna Bacon with Golden Tomatoes and Pistachios was masterful (I would have loved to have been at a dining room table dissecting the flavors), it was just too complex for a pool party. Kerry’s Chilled Red Pepper Coulis with Crab and Corn Fritter was more like it. Loads of flavor but simpler in scope and a snap to eat. Lorena’s Bunuelos with Fresh Berry Compote, White Chocolate and Condensed Vanilla Sauce were cooked to perfection, though. Slightly crispy on the outside, soft and custardy on the inside, they would make any brunch, anywhere, truly special. 

I was heartbroken to see Thierry go. He’s such an incredibly talented chef with a deep passion for food. His Croque Madame with Bechamel Sauce and Tomato Vodka Shooter was a great concept that came up short in execution. You’ll be missed, Thierry, but next time I’m in Seattle, I’ll see you at Rover’s or Luc.


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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.  

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