Food and Whine

Krista Simmons puts the Grand Canyon challenge into perspective.

Working as a food writer is one of the most indulgent jobs in the world, but I have to admit that on the days that I'm working 14 hours trying to balance multiple deadlines, sometimes I just want to throw in my bib and be done with it. There are moments when I despise the fact that I've become so hyper-analytical about something as pleasurable and joyful as food. When it comes to the big picture, the things critics split hairs over are so incredibly trivial: we quibble over minutiae such as salt levels, doneness, and the uniformity of knife cuts, many of us without the faintest notion of the sheer man power it takes to get that meal on the plate.

Though this episode had many highlights (Flying in fancy helicopters! Chris busting apart a grill like the Incredible Hulk! Chefs sneering at Art and Lorena's verbose dish explanations! And umm, duh, the B-52s!), my favorite moment was when the the judges' questioned one of the tribesman about what he thought of the dishes.

“We've lived by the chase for so many years, and we never thought about things like seasoning. What is really legendary is the commentary of these critics,” he replied with a slight twinge of snark. 
The judges laughed, acknowledging how silly their criticism must have seemed. There they were, over looking the Grand Canyon with the most spectacularly unique opportunity in the world basically being forced to find the negative.

Sure, I could whine about how I didn't get to take a helicopter ride over the West Rim, or how I didn't get to participate in what appeared to be the most epic long-table meals of all time. But what really bums me out is that I couldn't be there to experience that unique connection to our country's past and our culinary history.

I am so proud of the Masters for making such a thoughtful effort to honor the traditions of the land and the people through their dishes. I hope I can continue to approach my culinary reporting with the same intention — even on those dreaded 14-hour days.

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.