Turning Tables

Krista Simmons shares her new experience as a judge.

As a native Angeleno, I spend a lot of time in Las Vegas blowing off steam with girlfriends, cutting loose at pool parties, getting risky at the roulette tables, and indulging some of the unsung culinary gems on and off the Strip. Thankfully, the mayhem, excitement, and excess that make me love Sin City carries over into this season of Top Chef Masters.

As with most good shows, it all starts with a dynamic cast: You've got Clark and Mark, who are in a 26 year-strong relationship and co-own a restaurant, competing against each other for a title; Chris and Art, are already getting into intense power struggles in Episode 1; and second-time contestant Thierry is so hungry for a win that he's willing to clean out the fish counter just to slight his competition.

As a former showtracker of Masters, these dynamics are really exciting. The nature of the series in the past has sometimes shown that the chefs respect each other a little too much to make for high-tensity TV. But this season breaks that mold right off the bat. In addition to the power struggles, you have Missy slicing off her finger on a mandoline because she's digging so deep for a win. Regardless of the extreme severity of her injury, the girl still wanted to keep competing! Now that's hardcore. Pair that with Lorena's extremely stiff horchata and tequila shooters and Chris garnishing his dish with a hardened smoked pig's liver that resembled mine after a night of Vegas-style drinking, and you've got the recipe for success. And I'm not just saying that because I'm on the show.Until last night, I hadn't even seen the other side of the story. That's what fascinates me so much about Top Chef: the judges really do come in blind, and are totally unaware of the character development or what's happened in the Quickfire. It allows us to be unbiased in our opinions about the dishes. Art's bread pudding, for instance, was absolutely stellar, and it's a dish I often fantasize about when my sweet tooth starts panging. There is no way that guy lost 120 pounds eating food like that!

And although the first episode may have portrayed me as a stickler for authenticity, that's not at all the case. I think fusion and development of traditional dishes is what makes American cooking at this point in history so exciting. There is no doubt all of these chefs can cook, and supremely well at that. It was just that the Blue Team simply didn't strategize and adapt, which is what it takes to be a Master. Sadly Sue's dry chicken dish was the least of my favorites, and it was a unanimous decision. She was way out of her element attempting to prepare Indian food considering her Mexican background, and it resulted in her going home.

Regardless of a few missteps, it really was some of the best buffet food that I've ever had. If this sets the tone for the rest of the season, we're in for a real doozy.

You can follow Krista on Twitter @kristasimmons.

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.