Cast Blog: #TOPCHEF

Low Spark And High Heels...in The Roach Coach

Gail: I Wasn't Surprised Doug Stayed on Top

Get Doug's Masterpiece Brisket Recipe

Make Melissa's Seared Duck Breast Dish

Gail on Innovation (and George's Failure to Push It)

Make Melissa's Mom's Egg Custard

Hugh Worries About Scurvy and Foie Gras

Make Mei's Inspired Duck a l'Orange

Gail Has No Problem With Blood

Make George's Cravable Breakfast Sausage

Gail Simmons Won't Be Pushed Around

Make Doug's Winning Mussels

Tom Colicchio Answers Your Restaurant Wars Qs

Gail: It Wasn't Keriann's Day

Make Doug's Winning Braised Pork!

Gail: We Had a Tough Job This Week

Make Katsuji's Authentically Delicious Stuffing

Hugh: The Demise of Cornwallis and Aaron

Make Gregory's Winning Dumplings

Richard: Chefs Please Follow Instructions

Richard Tries Money Ball Soup

Make a Home Run-Worthy Popcorn Crème Brule

Hugh: Where There's a Will There's a Fenway

Gail: Keriann and Aaron Were Being ---holes

Make the Winning Surf and Turf

Gail: We're Taking No Prisoners

Richard Goes From Player to Announcer

Tom Talks Boston

Gail: There Was No Season 11 Underdog

Hugh Wants Nick to Be Kind to Himself

Gail: It Was Difficult to Let Go of Shirley

Big Easy to Ocean Breezy

Gail: The Final Four Are Like Our Children

Emeril Is Proud to Serve Shirley's Dish

Hugh: Enough With the Mexican Food Hate

Gail on Favreau, Choi, and Finding Yourself

Hugh on Poor Boys, Swingers and Food Trucks

Emeril: Nick's Choice Is Part of the Game

Nick's License to Immune

Hugh's Sitting on the Dock of the Bay

Hugh Decides Eight Is Enough

Low Spark And High Heels...in The Roach Coach

Bourdain takes a closer look at the challenge that eliminated Sara

bourdain_307_06_320x240.jpg

Two questions screamed for answers after last night's challenge: bourdain_307_01_320x240.jpg

1) If you're a Miami chef, how, how, HOW can you screw up a Cuban sandwich? More to the point: WHY would you?

This week, Howie -- who is perilously close to becoming Mr. Know-It-All -- seems to have been caught transfixed in the headlights of an oncoming snack wagon, and for reasons known only to his phrenologist, decided that the beloved Miami classic, the Cuban sandwich, is not good enough. Worse, after much experience (he says) working in Miami nightclubs, he came to the shocking conclusion that what drunken hordes of clubgoers really want, immediately after spilling off the dance floor, is his creative riff on a classic. Crustier bread! "Better" raw ingredients! An "homage" sandwich, roughly manhandled onto a griddle between unevenly heated sheet pans. No, Howie. No.

What anybody who's even been to a nightclub understands is that drunk people want hot, cheesy, greasy, and familiar food. They want it fast. And they don't want to be challenged to think. They're done thinking (at least until tomorrow, when they turn over in bed and see what they went home with). A cheap-ass deli ham, roast pork, cheese, and gherkin on the same bread everybody else uses -- properly mashed down flat -- and you would have had some happy customers. Post-nightclub customers are the dream of every late night diner and snack bar operator in that they are oblivious. Howie chose to rudely wake them up. If this crowd was going to notice anything in the interlude between the ear shattering, molar-shaking thump of the dance floor and whatever ill-considered coupling or porcelain bowl worshiping lay in their near future, it's that there was something...wrong...and...different...about this thing they were being told was a Cuban sandwich.

2) Speaking of oblivious: If, in spite of your superb technical skills, excellent training and fine, creative mind, you are consistently ending up on the bottom of the dog pile -- and you are presented with an easy lay-up of a Quickfire Challenge, why, why, WHY would you choose to step forward and proudly push your head -- once again -- into the meat grinder? Lab rats and domestic pets, after sticking an appendage into a light socket, usually refrain from doing so again. Yet Hung, week after week, after taking a full dose of house current, jams his nether regions directly into the fuse box.

How hard was it to win this challenge? Dale won with the very sensible -- but hardly genre-bending -- peach cobbler ice cream. Had Hung stuck to sweet stuff and stayed away from CAULIFLOWER(?!!), I have a hard time believing he couldn't have, at very least, avoided being the very worst. Who EVER finds themselves yearning suddenly for cauliflower in their ice cream sundae? Who has ever -- in recorded history -- thought to themselves: "Gee...this ice cream would be so much better if only there were tempura flakes on it"? Or yearned, while spooning vanilla ice cream into their face, for FOAM?

Hung was absolutely right when he said, dismissively, "any monkey can go with fruits and berries." But any monkey also knows better than to make the same mistake over and over and over again. Learn from the wisdom of Krusty's trusted consigliere Mr. Teeny, Hung. He has all the answers. In the above examples, we find two excellent examples of how to fail in the kitchen before you even start to cook. Bad decision-making doomed Hung in the Quickfire and Team Orange in the Elimination. Both Howie and Hung neglected to ask themselves the most fundamental of questions; ones that every restaurateur has to ask him or herself before even opening for business: " Where am I?" and "What will people like here?" A little soul-searching might have indicated that they probably don't like bogus Cuban sandwiches in Miami and that nobody likes cauliflower on their ice cream -- anywhere.

bourdain_307_03_320x240.jpg

Compare and contrast with the winners of the Elimination Challenge, Team Black: Brian, when asked how his team chose their menu and divided up responsibility, answered with pure, textbook good sense. They looked at the space and the facilities in which they would have to work -- and worked with that, designing a very clever and appropriate menu to both situation and environment. Crispy fried stuff from Hung on the fry station...Sara M. playing to her strength with jerked soft tacos...Tre working the bacon-wrapped shrimp with grits comfort food angle...and Brian shrewdly staying out of the way of potential gridlock inside and instead, working out front, where he could serve as raw bar guy, expeditor, and carnival barker. A good plan, knowledge of the terrain, and efficient deployment of forces equals good execution.
bourdain_307_04_320x240.jpg

Team Orange couldn't get out of each other's way. The only thing that saved Howie from being dropped down the greasy chute this week was Sara N.'s abysmal performance. Being bummed out, depressed, pissed at Howie, or in uncomfortable footwear does not excuse falling behind on sliders! There are drunk people out there! They want sliders! They want them now! They don't even care if they're all well done -- as long as they're hot...and here! This was an opportunity to win the day (as drunk people love sliders) but for God's sake: Cook them ten at a time! Twenty at a time! You're being compared to nothing more elevated in the annals of cuisine than White Castle for God's sake!

I can only imagine that the never-shy Howie was looking to thin the herd by allowing Sara N. to twist in the wind. There's really no other explanation that neither he, CJ, nor Casey stepped in to forcefully tell Sara to unscrew her head out of her fundament and start loading up the griddle. Not that it would have helped. Sara N. seemed to have decided to lose as soon as she realized she'd be working in heels. I gotta tell ya; I've worked with women cooks who could crank out a hundred fifty meals off a very busy grill station in freakin' stilettos and still have the energy to give Howie the beating of his life -- so that don't cut it as an excuse. And putting ice in a vanilla shake, by the way, was a very bad idea.

After finding out she'd have to pack her knives, Sara N. suggested she might have been "too nice" for the competition. Maybe so. Howie, on the other hand, suggests that he might well be an asshole and that he doesn't apologize for that. I'd suggest he reexamine his position here. It might be okay to be a buttwad in the cause of victory, but it's not okay to be a buttwad when what you've got to offer Miami is a bogus Cuban and bad leadership.
bourdain_307_07_320x240.jpg

In the end, Sara N. didn't lack for talent. She lacked fire in the belly. All chefs, at various points in their career, must reach an accommodation between what lives in their hearts and the requirements of the marketplace, and of the situation on the ground. They must choose every night between head and heart, compromising in ways large and small according to circumstances.

It's interesting that some of the most compelling struggles to watch on this season's show are not between contestants. It's the struggle between experienced, "principled" Howie and his own darker, more pigheaded side. Howie's got plenty of heart. Last night, he simply fell down when it came to using his magnificent, sweat-slicked, battering ram of a noggin. It's the struggle between Hung's big talent and his even bigger ego. Here's a guy who should cook more with his heart and less with his overloaded brain. He should think about the things that gave him comfort as a child, his very first ice cream cone; what ice cream did to him. Not what he can do to ice cream. That's something I'd like to see.

***A Final Note: Concerning Rocco DiSpirito's typically gracious and good humored response on this site to my torrent of abuse: It is natural, as some have suggested, to assume that I'm jealous of Rocco. In fact, I am. I'm jealous of Rocco's talent in the kitchen. He had an extraordinary proficiency with food -- one most cooks would cheerfully have sawn off a finger or an arm to replicate -- and an ability to "envision" (and then execute) truly delicious and original creations. That he chose to turn his back on this rare and unique gift does indeed stick in my craw.

Watching Rocco's trajectory in the cause of the bitch-goddess fame is like watching a young Eric Clapton put aside his guitar for a career as a mink rancher. You just want to scream, "Play, damn you! PLAY!!" (Or in Rocco's case, "Cook! Cook!!"). Two years cooking in his own 40-seat restaurant, in even a crummy neighborhood of NYC, and Rocco would shut snarkologists like me up forever -- and restore a "gravitas" to his reputation he should never have lost. I'd be the first guy trying to scrounge a reservation, and -- if he offered anything like the food I had at Union Pacific -- the first to loudly sing his praises.

Hugh Worries About Scurvy and Foie Gras

Hugh Acheson wonders about the health of the kids at Emerson College and debates the cost of roasting that much foie gras.

In this, the tenth episode of this 12th season, we open in the kitchen of the chefs super secret lair. Katusji has taken his wit, wisdom and wherewithal back to his Kosher Japanese Cal-Mex empire to work on a masa matzoh ball taco. He is described as "the most loveable dick in the entire world," which seems pretty on point. These remaining five seem saddened because Katsuji provided respite from the drudgery of competition. They mourn as well, because all understood, though it was never talked about, like a solemn vow, that they could all beat Katsuji in this cooking game. He was the San Diego Padres of Top Chef, the team that all the other competition knew would be an easy beat when the time came.

So the quintet of Mei, Gregory, Dougeeeee, Melissa and George remain. They are all have the stuff that could allow them to win the dough, but Mei and Gregory have really shown that if we must have hierarchy then they are the top two contenders.

Quickfire begins with Andy and his college roommate. Andy just told the roommate that those "games" they played late at night in their bunkbeds WILL be talked about in his next book, so Dave, you have some explaining to the wife and kids. Andy, we are told, is "known for his antics." That he is.

Andy exorts the contestants to hook up with each other and I immediately think of Dougie spooning with Georgie. I then have to wash my eyes out with steel wool and bleach to remove the image. This hurts and still the image remains.

Padma gets Andy back on task and she introduces the Quickfire. It is a collegiate showdown of ramen proportions but the catch is that they must use the contents of the fridge of some poor frosh. Out come the stoner, the nerd, the sorority girl, the lady who should have graduated in '05 and one other innocuous soul. Their fridge contents make me worry about a scurvy outbreak at Emerson College.

We are regaled with stories of the craziest things they all did in college. Melissa built a 24-story beer bong. I went to school in Montreal so my craziest times were hanging out at Biftek on St. Laurent and getting drunk playing pool. Oh wait, I DID THAT EVERY NIGHT until I dropped out of college. Luckily I had some cooking skillz.

Gregory concocts a bacon, Doritos, leftover pizza broth, and I am immediately worried about the future of our country. Dougie has made a Cobb salad ramen with a "coconut-pineapple" broth, and I start looking for my Canadian passport. George, who has no idea what ramen is, 'cause Mike Isabella has never let him out before, is cobbling together a version of SpaghettiOs 2.0s. It has a hint of hot dog, but so does Andy, so this may be well liked. Melissa is making a "Crunchy Carbonara Ramen" which is probably already dispensed out of a coin machine in Tokyo and actually sounds pretty tasty. There is hope. Mei makes a smoked tomato miso with upcycled sushi. Sounds okay, so I stow the passport back and the "go bag."

There is no immunity but the winner gets 5K. Not bad for fifteen minutes of work/fame. Bottoms are Mei and Dougie. Tops are Gregory and George with Melissa winning this murky challenge.

They go to the little room of stewage and watch Julia Child. Then Jacques Pepin stops by and everyone gasps in amazement. I do too because if you don’t love Pepin you are not a nice person. He da bomb.

The Elimination Challenge is to come up with a dish inspired from Julia's cooking. Three hours to cook and one hour to finish on site tomorrow. They chat with Jacques for a while to learn the secrets of Julia, other than the fact that she was totally a CIA spy.

Doug is silent because of where he comes from. Texas shrugs as he says, "I grew up in East Texas and here I am meeting Jacques Pepin." Then he follows this ode to the state of Texas with, "I am from Texas so I can't pronounce things very well." C'mon Doug, your state gave us that Rick Perry character! He's fun to watch!

Doug is insistent on making a whole roasted foie gras. George is braising some veal and presenting it with some vegetables and pommes puree. There is some French going on around here. Melissa is challenging herself with shortribs. Mei is making duck a l'orange but you know it will show off some of herself. You can't spell Mei without ME. Gregory is making Coq au Vin. Tom wanders in during cooking to advise them to channel Julia and then they all try to sound like Julia. None of them will ever be known for their impersonation abilities.

We eat. It's outside. It's beautiful. The diners, or the we, are Dana Cowin, Jacques, Alex Prudhomme (related to Julia), Tom, Padma, Boston chefs Barbara Lynch, Joanne Chang, Mary Dumont, and little old me. I am hungry so don't talk much.

The food is really good overall. There were some issues like drier ribs, monotonous veal, raw foie, and maybe some flabby duck skin, but pound-for-pound they did the dishes well. Tops are Gregory and Mei, and the verdict is an interesting one. Gregory nailed a classic, but it was like he channeled Julia too much and did a textbook version, while Mei nailed a riff on a dish with her duck a l'orange. It is arbitrary who should win but Mei pulls it off and wins a just decision.

Not so arbitrary but still close is the bottom trio of Melissa, George, and Doug. Melissa erred in rib cookery. George cooked stunning veg but it was the veal that was a yawn. Alas, Doug bows out with his dish, a dish that he had never done but dreamed about. You don't just do roasted whole lobes of foie at the restaurant you work at, cause the owner chef would probably stab you if you ruined the 300 bucks in product. But this is TV money so he took a chance. The problem is that cooking whole foie is tricky. You can''t sear it too much or you will render away the beauty, and then you need to temper-roast it in a medium heat oven. Then it comes out and you rest it on a wire rack. It is pretty much served just warm. He did all of those steps, but over-seared it and then cooked it a hair hot, and not long enough, resultingin a greasy, yet raw internal. Funny thing is that the rest of the stuff on the plate was awesome. Well Doug, you were a favorite of ours and I wish you much success in Last Chance Kitchen.

And now we are four. Until next time.

For a good time, follow me on Twitter @hughacheson

Read more about: