Misanthropaea

Some Pictures of Food Network Stars…

…just seem funnier if you imagine cartoon penises in them…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

That is all.

Please resume your previous activities…

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If either of you are interested or have a bit of spare time and are so inclined, I have a reasonably short (by my standards) ‘guest post,’ found here, which the good people (or person, or Jillian) at Foodnetworkhumor.com recently published… 

Toilet Paper and Aliens

Very much against my better judgement, I finally caved in a few weeks ago and took the constant nagging advice of a long-time friend and turned my fruitless, pathetic and embarrassing search for unrequited love to the internet. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of, mostly because it feels like defeat. Oh yes, I know – all of those precious Match.com, eHarmony, and Zoosk adverts make it all look so perfect and brilliant and the best possible thing you could ever do for yourself, full of smoking hot and inconceivably single women and tanned, well-chiselled, and tousle-haired men resting comfortably on their six-figure incomes, but the truth is those particular case studies in perfection are, at best, anomalous and, at worst, utterly fantastical. Your mileage, of course, may vary.

It felt like defeat to me because it occurred to me, whilst filling in the little forms and agreeing to various terms of agreement, that I was doing this because no-one I know or have met recently really appears to think of me as anything more than a drinking buddy, presuming, that is, they even think of me at all, and would prefer to keep me at arm’s length and would be especially thrilled  if they could only make their arms grow just a wee bit longer out of sheer convenience. It felt like defeat because it seemed as if I had exhausted any notion of meeting someone through traditional means and was now turning to a faceless and emotionless intermediary with at best only a superficial understanding of who I was. And I don’t mean my name, age, race, gender, education, occupation, or if I like puppies and long walks on the beach. I do, but that’s irrelevant. And anyway I haven’t been near a beach in more than twenty years. What I mean is all those odd, scattered, random, often contradictory and frequently idiosyncratic bits which make a person who they are and the sorts of things to ultimately connect you to someone else – like do you put the toilet paper over or under and will this be a cause of some distress and potentially lead to an argument if done incorrectly?

Granted I am not going to sit with someone on the first meeting and blurt out that I believe that we as a species have a greater antiquity than mainstream science wants us to know or that the internal architecture of the Great Pyramid or places like Puma Punkhu and Tiahuanaco raise practical questions about their construction that defy current definitions (and I’m not saying it was aliens… but it was probably aliens) – although I have actually done that, sadly – because most people will sit like animals trapped in car headlamps and start to inch nervously away. Trust me. But at some point those scary bits are going to sneak out, whether it’s toilet paper or aliens, and to the uninitiated who aren’t aware of these curious predilections or to those who don’t know you well enough or to those who don’t share a similar interest, you’re simply going to appear mad. Like some strange person who lives alone with cats. Which I do. And, again, that is irrelevant.

But mostly it felt like defeat because it seemed to solidify the feeling that I’ve become nothing more than some sort of Jay at The Desk to most women: empty as the plot of Twilight and as invisible as the talent of Milli Vanilli. 

Considering the fact that my friend hadn’t exactly had rousing success with her short on-line dating experience (before meeting her current boyfriend on a blind date set up by a co-worker), I couldn’t understand why she pushed and pushed so hard for me to do it – or why I was even toying with the idea – but her argument that ‘You haven’t met anyone yet have you? What’s the worst that could happen?’ finally made me give in and try. I opted for a couple of places offering both free profile placement and free browsing of the profiles of others only to find that if you wanted to send a message to someone you found interesting, you had to pay for it. So much for ‘free.’

Probably the worst aspect of it all was the almost daily email alerts of so-called ‘new’ members with whom these sites rather bewilderingly imagined you would be a perfect match…  

…or the constant bombardment of ‘messages’ from the potentially compatible love interests who’ve investigated the contents of your profile and have, you are told, expressed a desire to learn more…  

…and absolutely none of whom live even remotely within the vaguest parameters of the geographic location you specified, making the likelihood of a face-to-face meeting with them – barring a windfall in lottery cash or finally getting that novel published – virtually nil.

So on it went, week after week, the relentless flow of email alerts filled with farfetched suggested companions with whom I clearly shared nothing apart from being the same general species; the subtle intimations that if only I would upgrade to the next status level and pay the extortionate monthly or annual fee I would, at last, experience the rich power of the type of deeply committed relationship only money could buy; and a flagrant lack of possible matches in, and thus an inexorable disregard for, my stated terrestrial preference which finally culminated in receiving this:

Seriously? I thought. Obviously on the surface it all seemed very innocent and mostly harmless, but I had some issues with it. The glamour shot notwithstanding – because I’d seen plenty of them intermingled amongst ridiculous cartoon graphics and loads of especially bad self-portraits snapped hurriedly in lavatory mirrors – I could see no clear reason why anyone who looked like this would find anything of even the tiniest bit of interest in my profile. Though there are two types of women in this world I am uniquely attracted to – brunettes, redheads, and blondes, in that order – and though I don’t consider myself to be a Quasimodo, this recommended love connection seemed to be almost as fanciful as if Kate Winslet or Anne Hathaway had finally responded to the hundreds of pleading emails I’ve sent them.

Compelled by curiosity, naturally, I logged in, read the ‘I’m intrigued’ notification she had purportedly sent – which stated simply ‘I’m intrigued’ and was the only allowable bit of ‘free’ communication members could have until they paid for the full privilege of unfettered contact – and then followed a link to her profile. There I discovered that she was a 38-year-old single mother, nominally Christian, somewhat apolitical, held a Master’s, and was the owner of a design studio – in California.

Perhaps the oddest thing, however, was that she had quite craftily buried an email address amidst rather a lengthy paragraph of personal information in the About Me section, thereby circumventing the monetary requirements of the site.

After a moment of consideration, I sent Vanessa74 an email wherein I thanked her for being ‘intrigued’ but politely explained that the nearly 2200 miles between us rather tended to undermine the probability of having a nice chat over a pint or few and then apologised for the fact that the doggedly obtuse web site continued to ‘match’ people of widely disparate compatibility and geographic locations. But thank you for playing.

Three hours later I received a reply thanking me for thanking her and yes how silly it was that these impossibly thick sites can’t get anything right but – since you’ve gone out of your way to respond, which most people wouldn’t do – why not tell me a little about yourself? She went on to briefly outline some of the same general information from her profile and added that she’d got her ‘BA in Landscape Architecture from the University of Edinburgh and my MA in Interior Designs from University of Central Lancashire’ and that

I am sorry if I misled you with my profile which says I am in Manhattan Beach, Ca. I have someone looking into the area for me. Manhattan Beach is somewhere I would love to have a property when I get back to the States. I will be coming to the States after taking care of a few things that is somewhat personal at this point of our communication, as it concerns my birth father.

The first of many red flags which immediately went up was the utterly appalling lack of proper verb tense – ‘a few things that is.’  How does one operate their own business, much less graduate from the University of Edinburgh or hold a Master’s Degree with such abhorrent English skills? Taking the chance that perhaps she was only just typing quickly (because not everyone can be an English major) and with some trepidation, I sent a brief reply which, very vaguely, sketched out why I had joined the dating site and asked her to elaborate, providing she felt comfortable doing so, on just where she was and why she was out of ‘the States.’ Roughly a day after she responded, explaining that

the reason why I registered on the website is to get to know someone I might end up meeting and start a serious relationship with. Presently, I am in Ogun State, Nigeria. I followed a thread from Essex, UK to Budapest,  Hungary on the quest to search for my birth father. You probably wont understand why this is so important to me but I will tell you later, if later ever comes. I gathered he owned a brewery, textile company and a few oil blocs here. I was born Hungarian, lost my mother at birth and my father put me up for adoption. I was raised by another family in Scotland. I lost my (Scottish) parent a few years ago. I have been on the quest to find my real father all my life but I decided to get back to this after loosing the people I cared so much about. I am an only child to both family, so I am all by myself with my son. While here I was contracted to decorate the interior of some govt. hotels and apartments, and quite a number of offices, ahead of the festive season. I have been on a few trips abroad to get the things needed for the job and will be returning to the States after finishing the interior decor job! :)

She went on to describe how her husband had been killed in a car crash in Greece a year or so after the birth of their son, Jimmy (also called Billy which, I presumed, was short for ‘Jimmy’) and that she’d finally located her birth father somewhere in a small town in Italy where he, too, was dying of an undisclosed illness. Why she was in Ogun State, Nigeria if the parent she’d searched for all these years was dying in Italy or, on the other hand, what her father was doing in Italy when he had ‘oil blocs’ and other holdings in Nigeria to maintain, was not an issue I necessarily wanted to pursue. Over a year ago, Professor Sanuse Lamido – or Dr Pat, as he apparently preferred to be called – from Lagos had wanted to wire me $12.4 million from the Federal Republic of Nigeria  providing I would submit a vast amount of personal information to him via email and I politely declined. So I was not especially eager to follow this particular thread to its preordained conclusion.

I sent a short response wishing her well and thanking her for her time and thought that would be the end of it. Another day later I received a lengthy message about how she had hoped we could maintain a correspondence, how she felt that we had some sort of connection, giving me an enormous soliloquy on what she wanted in a new relationship and enquiring as to what I was searching for.

My return email cautiously asked if she’d actually read my profile, as most of the questions she had were answered there. Her answer was that she’d been so busy of late trying to wrap up the ‘interior decor job’ that she’d not had an opportunity, plus she had closed her account because she wanted to spend more time getting to know me and was not interested in anyone else.

By this point I was increasingly suspicious and a forest of red flags were now flapping wildly in the wind. The same bit of back and forth lasted a few more days until she sent me an urgent message at 1am EST on a Sunday (or 7am West Africa Time). I was still awake at the time, having only been home from work  less than three hours, and I get my Gmail messages in real time on my mobile. She pleaded that I get on Yahoo chat as quickly as possible – sending me her screen name to type in – as something horrid had just happened.

Mm-hm.

I found her on Yahoo in seconds and asked what had happened. It was horrible. Just awful. Jimmybilly had taken ill late the previous evening (or roughly 5pm EST) and, because ‘The Driver’ had taken the night off, Vanessa had been forced to drive herself into town to acquire vital medicines. Here she was robbed at gunpoint and everything was taken from her. A short while later, Billyjimmy was rushed to hospital with a case of gallstones but the mean, wretched doctors refused to do anything for him until she made a substantial down-payment for his life-or-death operation and could I please just wire her a few thousand dollars to help?

Not wanting to sound insensitive, I enquired as to whether it was possible for her to  withdraw the money from her savings. Granted the thief had taken her purse and her wallet but surely she had placed the needed telephone calls to her bank to stop her credit cards being used but she could still have them issue a cheque for the required sum. Or perhaps she’d be able to convince the government to pay her for the decor she’d done for them.

No, no, it was all tragically going pear shaped and Jibillimy was going to be the next important person in her life to die and oh can’t you please send me something? No, dear, I can’t. Firstly, it’s one o’clock in the morning and I’ve no means of doing so. Secondly, had you in fact read the bit of personal information I’d sent you, you would be aware that I’ve got nothing to send to you even I did have access to means of wiring you cash – at one o’clock in the morning. And have I mentioned yet that it’s one o’clock in the morning here? On a Sunday?

‘OK,’ she wrote. ‘I hope things get better for you. Bye for now.’

And that was the last contact I had with her.

About two weeks later, just a few days ago as of this writing, I received another of the typical daily email alerts regarding the many ‘new members’ who had recently joined one of the the sites and with whom I might take a fancy and, of course, a few of them had visited my profile and been ‘intrigued.’ Amongst those so smitten was a familiar face with an entirely new name and profile – apart from the now easily recognisable glamour shot. I sat and stared for quite a while until, once again compelled by curiosity, I logged in, read the ‘I’m intrigued’ notification she had purportedly sent  and then followed the link to her profile. There I discovered that she was a 38-year-old single mother, nominally Christian, somewhat apolitical, held a Master’s, and was the owner of a design studio – in Washington DC.

And, just like before, buried amidst a lengthy About Me segment was a craftily-placed email address.

Doing a short internet search for ‘Nigerian money scams’ and cross-referencing both of her email addresses, I quickly learnt that this person had more than 75 identities scattered across the web. I provided a copy of this information in a bemused email to the administrative contact of the site in question and reported her profile as fictitious. After that I closed all my accounts. But I also sent this email:

My Dearest Vanessa,

I’m so glad to see you are still intrigued by my profile and that you haven’t given up on our special new relationship! Thankfully it seems you’ve managed to get out of Nigeria and move back to the States, but did California not work out after all? Did you finally get paid for your government decorating job? Did Jimmy or Billy finally manage to struggle heroically back to health after his tragic brush with death? Did you finally get all of your financial troubles sorted out?  Are you still called ‘Vanessa’ this time? Oh my god I was so worried!  Please write soon!    

‘If you can make a girl laugh, you can make her do anything,’ Marilyn Monroe once said. I doubt Vanessa is is laughing but, then again, neither is anyone else…

Musings on The Next Iron Chef 4.8

Amidst the swirling smoke, flashing multi-coloured lights, and a non-stop thunderous rendition of the Man v Wild theme, Chefs Liz and Geoffrey approach each other from the exit ramps of their opposing alien spacecraft to face off in an episode conveniently and uninterestingly entitled Finale which, thankfully, makes this the last episode of this series until the next series. Alton Brown, incongruously wearing modern clothes, explains without even a trace of laughter that ‘this majestic palace’ in which the two remaining chefs (whom he so brilliantly enumerated for us just the week before) have landed is ‘Kitchen Stadium: hallowed ground, home to the legendary I-ron Chefs and the Bog of Eternal Stench.’

Because we are so very near the holidays, there is a clear theme of gifts involved and Alton goes on to explain that Chairman Mark has but ‘one gift to give’ and will ‘bestow the ultimate present’ which, rather unfortunately, is not his absence. Instead, it will be ‘the honour of being the Next I-ron Chef.’  The other thematic dead horse Alton is beating is ‘Pressure’ – the nature of the Chairman’s Challenge – and he assures us that Chef Geoffrey and Chef Liz are feeling this pressure because of the presence of ‘three highly critical judges who are very familiar with each of the finalists,’ the same three highly critical judges who have been on every episode so far. More pressure is added, we are told, because the judges will be joined by ‘two veteran I-ron Chefs,’ Dark Lord of The Sith, Bobby Flay, and Masaharu Morimoto ‘who will also taste and judge the precedings.’

Firstly, I believe Alton had probably meant to use the word ‘proceedings,’ because to say ‘preceding’ indicates a past event whereas ‘proceeding’ is a course of action or an event taking place in the present. Secondly, as it is a noun and, in this particular case, really something more of an abstract idea than a tangible, physical object, tasting a proceeding would seem to be fraught with some difficulty.

And to compound the assured pressure, seven of the eight previously eliminated Ironites (Chef Robert is evidently off doing impossible things with restaurants) will be seated in a small decorative box to witness, as Alton says, ‘their every move.’ The every move of Chefs Geoffrey and Liz, not the ‘two veteran I-ron Chefs’ attempting to taste and judge an abstraction. From the Stainless Steel Cookware Showroom, Chef Alex informs us ‘that kind of pressure is crazy.’

Also crazy is Chairman Mark who, with the ridiculous assistance of dubbed in Kung Fu whoosh noises to reinforce the even more ridiculous notion that he is somehow Japanese and thus related to the late Chairman Takeshi Kaga (who ‘died’ from fugu poisoning), introduces the ‘secret ingredients’ from which the two remaining chefs will have to ‘create the ultimate holiday meal:’ standing beef rib roast, salt cod, ‘hard American squash,’ parsnips, Brussels sprouts, clementine oranges and unfiltered apple cider. He then further elucidates, as though it was somehow unclear the first time, that the chefs will have 60 minutes to create ‘three holiday-themed dishes with these festive ingredients.’  And who doesn’t equate hard American squash with festive things?

It is incredibly fortuitous that Alton Brown is standing by to expand on these quite difficult concepts. ‘The chefs must make three holiday dishes,’ he advises us from behind his dual computer monitors. ‘Now the, uh, clock is ticking on one hour to decide who will be The Next I-ron Chef. The pressure is on.’

Chef Liz has adopted the strategy of making a ‘great dinner for the holidays’ and Chef Geoffrey has the idea of trying something ‘modern’ as he feels ‘this is a very modern Christmas.’ Unfortunately only fifteen minutes into cooking, Chairman Mark decides to throw in one of many ‘surprises’ (as a means of increasing the sense of ‘pressure’) and insists that the two competitors utilise cranberries to ‘create a cranberry dish.’ He also allows them to pick one of the previously-eliminated Ironites, currently off in a box witnessing their ‘every move,’ to assist them with the apparently unrealistic expectation of making a cranberry dish from cranberries. This ‘extra set of hands’ will work with each of the chefs for only 15 minutes.

Rather than choosing Chef Anne – who had worked as a sous chef for I-ron Chef Mario Batali and was Co-Winner (with Chef Michael Symon) of Iron Chef America series 9, Battle Deep Freeze – they choose Chef Alex because she sits next to Chef Geoffrey on Chopped and is ‘a real specialist’ who knows his taste. And, because everything has abruptly gone off the rails, Alton Brown steps in to clarify for us that ‘only one of these two Super Chefs will be crowned The Next I-ron Chef’ and that they ‘must make three dishes’ with the ‘scrumptious holiday ingredients’ they have been given and that, as such, ‘they are under a lot of pressure.’  Sadly he does not specify the amount of time they will have for this seemingly insurmountable task, though he does take a moment to remind us that Chairman Mark has increased the pressure by offering up ‘plenty of surprises’ such as having them create a cranberry dish from cranberries – making it four dishes they will have to devise – and allowing the two remaining chefs to ‘hand pick’ Chef Alex as a temporary sous chef.

Roughly 15 minutes later, at the 30 minute point, Chairman Mark compounds the pressure yet again by adding in another surprise element in the form of ice cream makers. He demands that the chefs ‘create a fantastic frozen concoction’ with them because he is now confused and believes that he is Ron Ben-Israel only without a comically large candy apple red button to press to see who will become the Next Sweet Genius.  Like a fresh breath of sanity, however, Alton snaps us back to reality and explains dramatically that in this ‘palace of pressure’ we find the two remaining chefs ‘cooking a life-changing holiday meal’ and eventually one of them will become The Next I-ron Chef.  It is also helpful that he has included a brief refresher on how Chairman Mark added a ‘surprise’ twist of wanting the chefs to make a cranberry dish from cranberries, how they got to ‘hand pick’ Chef Alex as a temporary sous chef for 15 minutes, and finally how they were just asked to use ice cream makers to ‘create a fantastic frozen concoction’ because not only are the attention spans of the chefs in question but clearly that of the home viewer may have been compromised as well amidst all the confusion.

But the confusion only gets worse: Chef Alex is asked to chop some things for Chef Liz; Chef Geoffrey asks Chef Liz if it only takes 8 minutes for the ice cream maker to ‘create a fantastic frozen concoction;’ I-ron Chef Morimoto may have said that something is a ‘good hello’ or a ‘Loharo’ – though what Pakistan has to do with anything only makes matters worse – and, with less than 15 minutes remaining in the challenge, Chairman Mark adds another ‘surprise.’ This time it is a display of martini glasses and Alton Brown shouts out that they are ‘martini glasses!’ on the outside chance no-one was looking at the giant display of martini glasses filling the television screen at a dramatic angle. Chairman Mark announces that he wants the two remaining chefs to ‘create a special holiday treat that fills this glass,’ though he offers no advice on how the two chefs are to share just the one glass, and Chef Liz realises that with less than fifteen minutes left she has ‘gotta think of something fast.’

Thinking equally fast amidst the flurry of no-one suddenly doing anything, Alton swoops in to explain that ‘This is the Next I-ron Chef finale between Chefs Geoffrey Zakarian and Elizabeth Falkner. The Chairman’s Challenge is designed to see who can hold up under the pressure of cooking it out in Kitchen Stadium.’ He tells us that the ‘ingredients provided are all about putting together the ultimate holiday meal’ and that ‘The Chairman has thrown his third monkey wrench into the gears of Kitchen Stadium. Now it started off with cranberries, and the second gift –’ the very idea of which causes him to laugh maniacally ‘ – the ice cream machine! And now his latest present? Martini glasses!’

After this he is wrestled to the ground and sedated.

After what feels an eternity, the hour is finally over and the two remaining chefs get to present their dishes. Chef Liz offers, in the martini glass, a ‘Christmas in California’ cocktail of gin, Cointreau, clementine and lemon juice and pairs this with her salt cod brandade fritters and black garlic aioli, the latter of which was too powerful for Judge Simon who makes the Mr Yuk face. Dark Lord Flay claims to have liked everything on the plate yet dismisses it as lacking ‘cohesiveness together,’ proving his inability to grasp the general definition of ‘cohesion’ whilst he haughtily sips his cocktail.  Her second dish, a winter squash agnolotti with Brussels sprout leaves, brown butter cider sauce and a purée of Brussels sprouts and goat cheese is mostly praised, though Judge Michael would have preferred the pasta to be thinner because they have to fill the air time with something other than Morimoto eating with his fingers. As the triumphant music of Return of the King blares away to seemingly indicate her great moment of redemption, Chef Liz introduces her third dish, Beef Wellington, and it is a hit amongst the panel – especially with Morimoto who is seen shovelling a large portion of it his mouth in one enormous bite.

When she presents her cranberry sorbet and frisée and fennel salad with a gelée of kaffir lime, tarragon and mint, Judge Michael has flashbacks of bad jello salad from the 70s, Judge Judy thought it was a ‘weird dish’ but she loved it, Judge Simon was too busy eating to respond, and Morimoto said something Chef Liz clearly did not comprehend in the slightest but at which she nodded indifferently. And finally her dessert is a candy cane chocolate cake over which everyone appears to gush. Judge Judy slowly takes it into her mouth, caressing it gently with her tongue, and slips the soon spent fork from between her soft smiling lips, her post-foodgasm eyes heavy with lust as she gazes upon Chef Liz. And lastly, Morimoto says something else Chef Liz doesn’t fully understand and she thanks him with another perfunctory nod as if he’d just told her that Guy Fieri’s jagged, unruly hairstyle looks quite masculine on her.

Chef Geoffrey offers a starter course of cranberry risotto with sake and sweet and sour strawberries – an unexpected and yet entirely successful dish – and probably ought to have won the the title of Next I-ron Chef  straight away for explaining that he filled the required martini glass with a blend of clementine and ginger juice,  St-Germain, and rum and called it a ‘Mad Man Cosmopolitan’ in honour of Chairman Mark. The cocktail was paired with tapas-style crispy and creamy Brussels sprouts with apples, mustard, and an apple cider and ginger reduction which both Judges Simon and Judy loved. Judge I-ron Chef Morimoto, however, said something about protein at which Chef Geoffrey nodded his lack of comprehension. His next course, a bisque of parsnip and cardamom with a frittata style sausage stuffing has Lord Flay and Judge Michael vying for Most Gratuitous Grovelling by an I-ron Chef. Unfortunately Chef Geoffrey seems to falter a bit in the gift-giving segment in his ‘modern luxury Christmas’ as his crown roast beef with three gifts – that is, a series of little squares of meat and veg all tied up with chives to resemble presents – becomes his most divisive dish. In the view of Judge Simon the beef was tough and the dish was ‘overwhelmed’ by flavour. Judge Judy disagrees completely and I-ron Chef Morimoto nods. The final plate, dessert, is a buttermilk frozen custard with peppermint snow which finds Lord Flay touching his lips in a thoughtful manner to enquire ‘Is it pot du crème?’ Chef Geoffrey admits that it had been intended as such until Chairman Mark threw the ice cream machine at him and forced his hand. Bizarrely, a spot of dairy appears to allow I-ron Chef Morimoto to announce clearly, ‘I love it!’

A more subdued Alton Brown, still shaking off the tranquilisers, then proffers a debate over which of the two remaining chefs has the ability to become The Next I-ron Chef. Judge Simon feels Chef Liz started slowly and built to a rich and satisfying climax for Judge Judy, whereas Chef Geoffrey began quite strongly and finished by ‘coasting,’ a sentiment with which Lord Flay takes some issue. ‘That’s the kind of food he cooks,’ he counters quickly. ‘It’s simple, it’s elegant, it’s modern, it’s luxury.’ Chef Geoffrey may have had the better meal, he suggests, but Chef Liz illustrated a broader range. Behind Lord Flay, I-ron Chef Morimoto smells his hand.

There seems a general consensus that Chef Geoffrey’s presentation was the strongest and that he is clearly ‘a master technician’ and ‘at the peak of his greatness.’ Chef Liz offers perhaps a more creative edge due to her pastry background but is said to be ‘scratching the surface of where she’s gonna end up’ and Judge Judy appears to feel quite strongly that Chef Liz ‘came into herself and blossomed.’ Alton does not recall ‘ever having it this tough’ because the first three series of this show have been over for some time and it’s likely he has never watched them again. He then instructs the Judges and gathered I-ron Chefs to ‘write the name of The Next I-ron Chef’ on a small foldy bit of glossy paper with the Next I-ron Chef logo on them and hand them in.

When they do so, Alton steps to the head of the table and dramatically turns on his heel to face them and announce ‘The die is cast.’ I’m certain that this phrase had far more profound impact when Julius Caesar first said it as ‘Alea iacta est’ just prior to crossing the Rubicon. Here is just sounds platitudinous and trivial.

And after five minutes of advertising, including the preview for the unbelievably pathetic-looking Rachael vs Guy: Celebrity Cook-Off beginning in January because Food Network is now helplessly scraping the bottom of an embarrassingly shallow barrel for programming, Alton announces that ‘the ballots have been tallied,’ which must have proved a staggering ordeal considering someone had to somehow tabulate all five of them. Chairman Mark then takes the stage to the heavily discharging brass and percussion sounds implacably bashing away to blather on fairly stupidly about ‘a variety of pressure-filled culinary cauldrons’ and some other nonsense I didn’t listen to before sweeping aside with a whooshy Kung Fu sound to finally reveal that the Next I-ron Chef is…

Chef Geoffrey.

Alton Brown then feels compelled to close the programme with the words of English novelist Norman Douglas which some anonymous intern found for him.

Snore.

Musings on The Next Iron Chef 4.7

Still wearing their chef’s coats, of course, like Ginger Grant aboard the SS Minnow in a form-fitting sequin evening gown for a three-hour tour, the remaining chefs arrive at the Montauk Yacht Club in The Hamptons, playground for the rich and powerful, not too far from Camp Hero where sightings of the Montauk monster – Old Shent – could possibly be explained by the wanderings of Ina Garten.

As they arrive in the harbour, coasting in along side an enormous yacht upon which the once again ill-dressed for this decade Alton Brown awaits their company, Chef Geoffrey, very much like Moon Zappa many years before him, states, ‘I’m like – Oh my God!’ Though he does not elaborate, one can only presume that he is ‘like’ such because his heart is sinking at the knowledge that the first thing out of Alton’s mouth will be the Mandatory Enumeration now an almost compulsory and sadly inescapable and irritatingly glib ceremony briefly conducted at the beginning of each programme because a simple, casual glance at the four remaining chefs standing together might  prove inconclusive or confusing if they were to move too quickly, and trying to keep the complex series of diminishing numbers in successive order is best left for a man who appears to be dressed for a cruise on The Love Boat.

And, as predicted, swaggering down to the top of a moveable set of stairs so that he can gaze haughtily down upon the uncertain number of chefs several feet below him, Alton clarifies for us that there are

before welcoming the four remaining chefs to Montauk – ‘One of the most spectacular settings in The Hamptons outside Ina Garten’s house.’  He then explains to them that they have ‘all the essentials for a traditional cookout,’ and they stare blankly at him because the awkward piece of editing resulting in this clumsy segue clearly has them standing empty-handed on the docks and unprepared to cook anything unless these so-called ‘essentials for a traditional cookout’ include wood, barnacles, and bits of old rope.  ‘So,’ he continues to expand on a point he never made in the first place, ‘you’ll each have five hundred dollars and two hours to forage for ingredients all around The Hamptons. Then, you will return to the Montauk Yacht Club where you’ll have two hours to cook. Your mission: create a three course seafood-tasting menu.’

Because Alton emphasises the word ‘seafood,’ there may be some ambiguity: are they to create a menu which tastes of seafood or are they to create a tasting-menu of types of seafood?  Thankfully Chef Michael clarifies for us from the Stainless Steel Cookware Showroom that ‘We have two hours to cook a trio of seafood.’

Though last week I complained that Food Network not only strenuously beat their tired metaphorical horses but also kill them with fire and heavy artillery, this week it appears that bothering to explain the general idea of how we arrived at the notion of a cookout was cut entirely from the episode in favour of adding additional dramatic establishing shots of locations around Montauk and more endlessly frenetic crashing of the musical accompaniment.

Alton goes on to tell them that they will be cooking ‘for a party’ of ‘oh, I don’t know, twenty elite members of The Hamptons’ culinary community.’  Chef Geoffrey, trying to make this incomprehensible idea more understandable for the home viewer, states ‘We have to cook for twenty people plus the judges.’ He then adds, rather oddly, that ‘Also they’re outside: we have wind and heat and sun, so it’s really difficult.’ It would appear that, apart from the title of the episode being Hamptons Beach Cookout, this rather crucial bit of exposition was also left on the cutting room floor, as Alton never mentioned anything about it previously other than to say that the four remaining chefs would have ‘the essentials for a traditional cookout.’  Finally he explains that The Chairman’s Challenge this time is all about ‘passion’ and thus instructs them to show that they can – what?

That’s right, Put Their Passion on a Plate ™  and show everyone their spunk, so to speak.

‘Today,’ Alton wraps up, ‘the challenge I didn’t fully explain very well is simple: good food, great chefs. Who cooks best?’ Perhaps he could have just said that at the start and saved more time for clearer expository remarks and careful editing. Because Chef Liz won The Chairman’s Challenge last week, her advantage is a fifteen minute head start ‘to forage for ingredients all around The Hamptons’ (which turns out to be just two locations in the immediate area), one small motor boat to speed her to the first  shopping location, and a book of current trends in more feminine hairstyles.

As she purchases fresh scallops, clams, and various ichthyological specimens  from a local vendor, she explicates aloud to the disinterested fisherman who is bagging her goods about the relative merits of preparing a classic cioppino  and explains to him that it is ‘a seafood stew.’ Speaking as someone who has worked in retail for far more years than I ought to have done, let me just say that any customer who needlessly quantifies and qualifies their purchase in such a tedious and unnecessary fashion is almost always assured a place in the next conversation between employees which will invariably begin with ‘Did I tell you about the idiot who…?’

With the shopping soon over and cooking soon to follow, the four remaining chefs gather near the edge of the harbour so that Alton Brown can explain to them that ‘Shopping is over. Cooking is next.’ He also mentions that, because this series has been unbelievably insipid and just about seven episodes too long, this time, like chugging a quart of warm prune juice, there will be a double elimination soon and he defies the four remaining chefs to ‘Do the math, Kids!’ He goes on to say that ‘Then the second and third place chefs will go head to head in the Secret Ingredient Showdown’ – which is something like a sudden-death cook off – ‘and that’s where another chef will be eliminated from the competition.’

But doing ‘the math,’ as suggested, reveals not only more extremely poor editing but allows for a logic gap by eliminating vital information in this plan: if  there are four chefs remaining and two chefs are eliminated after this challenge, there won’t be any third-place chef against whom the second-place chef can compete.  

Regardless, everyone accepts this flawed idea without question and off they go. Chef Geoffrey, rocking some Hell0 Kitty band-aids on his left hand, creates a sea bass salad with a celery roll-up and agro dolce, a blackfish ‘minute steak’ with lemon tapenade, and a scallop sausage sandwich with a couscous and clam risotto.  Chef Liz opts for a vichyssoise chowder, a smoked scallop on corn purée, and the lobster cioppino she bored the fisherman to death about moments before. Chef Michael, deciding this is Storytelling 2.0, tells a lengthy tale about why he is making a scallop on a carrot caponata, a tuna crudo arrabbiata, and a smoked fluke with gribiche which, he says, represents his wife – the fluke, apparently, not the gribiche, because they met on a fluke. One presumes he means a chance occurrence and not a flatfish.  Chef Alex is preparing a raw fluke with a lime and tomato jam, smoked clam chowder with bacon, lobster hollandaise and appears to be following this with a meltdown, demanding that uncooperative food items ‘COME ON!’ and swearing a bit as guests begin to be seated at nearby tables to witness the passion.

No word on just how it is these chefs managed to each prepare 72 individual plates for all ‘twenty elite members of The Hamptons’ culinary community’ and all four of the  judges (which Chef Geoffrey mysteriously calculated as 25 people), especially when they are only shown physically plating one dish before an army of servers begin to cart out the meals, but clearly it was a Herculean effort.

The ‘twenty elite members of The Hamptons’ culinary community’, sadly, are seated outside beneath the blazing East Coast sun for their meals and are not privy to what is going on inside the big stark white travelling set of The Wall.  For only here, as it is explained to the judges that the Chairman’s Challenge was about passion and that they will have to determine the fates of the four remaining chefs as if they somehow do not fully comprehend their roles as judges after seven episodes, is it finally clarified that  just one Ironite will be removed from the competition at this point, contradicting, it seems, the earlier contention that two chefs will be eliminated. It does, however, lend itself to explaining the earlier anomalous statement that ‘Then the second and third place chefs will go head to head in the Secret Ingredient Showdown.’ It is also made very very clear by Alton that the chef eliminated after this tasting will be sent home… just exactly like all the other competitors who have been eliminated, hence the term ‘eliminated.’

Chef Alex mutters an ‘Oh my God’ beneath her breath as she enters the set of The Wall, clearly as tired of the charade as we are, and explains that her dishes ‘communicate’ not only her true passion for ‘nose to tail cooking’ and for unaccountably explaining things to her peers as if they had no prior knowledge of the culinary arts, but also for cooking and eating.  But mostly eating.  Unfortunately her epic clam chowder with a smoked cream base and potatoes and mussels and lemon and garlic and leeks and bacon and then eventually even some clams proves just a bit too salty for Judge Simon and Chef Alex experiences a Gary Coleman Moment as he scowls and grimaces his way through a stark poo-pooing of it. Judge Judy likes hers salty though.  ‘Eggs and lobster,’ Chef Alex states of her last dish, ‘it’s like cornflakes and milk,’ which might help explain the growing pyramidal shape. Thankfully, though, they interview two of the ‘twenty elite members of The Hamptons’ culinary community’ who provide absolutely no insight or culinary expertise at all.

As for the offerings of Chef Liz, Judge Simon’s usual dislike of flaccid skin on his fish is countered by his need to lick the plate clean from the vichyssoise chowder as a means of saying ‘That tells you everything you need to know about that.’ Judge Michael felt the smoked scallop was ‘one note’ with a hint of vanilla and two ‘elite members of the Hamptons’ culinary community’ interviewed concurred with these views which truly justifies their presence.

Before Chef Geoffrey is called upon, Alton seizes the opportunity to point out to the judges ‘Passion. Three. Course. Seafood. Tasting. Menu.’ And they nod and smile. It is evident, shortly thereafter, that Chef Geoffrey has not only created a brilliant trio of exceptional dishes but something over which Judge Simon gushes, saying  ‘I don’t think it’s your prettiest plate of food in the competition.’ Indeed, one of the ‘twenty elite members of The Hamptons’ culinary community’ felt that his blackfish was too fishy and Judge Michael still cannot utilise proper verb tense.

‘This isn’t my first rodeo,’ Chef Michael explains to us with some agitation after Judge Michael expresses concern that his scallop was slightly overcooked, but his very long story about food and the history of man appears to last an eternity and at one point it sounds as though he suggests that to the ‘far left’ is a bit of ‘penis.’  Funnily, Alton is sitting to the far left of the judges…

Once the merriment is through, the judges spar and bicker about not wanting to ‘taste someone’s mistakes’ and if they can live with ‘a few technique flaws’ and whose dishes sucked less and finally decide  they would rather have someone who ‘fails interesting’ rather than simply manage to ‘achieve mediocre.’ As such, Chef Geoffrey makes it to the final episode, just edging out rather a put off but slightly more technically flawed Chef Michael by what Alton describes as ‘about six molecules.’  As the second-place chef, he will be competing against third-place failed but interesting Chef Liz and Chef Alex, having achieved mediocrity, returns, stunned, to the set of Chopped.

In Kitchen Stadium proper, and not some cobbled-together amateurish version of it, Chef Michael and Chef Liz face each other in what Alton Brown calls ‘The last Secret Ingredient Showdown’ indicating that next week the winner of this challenge will have to contend with Chef Geoffrey in some other form of competition for the title of Next I-ron Chef – such as jousting or midget wrestling or a semi-professional Rock, Paper, Scissors, Lizard, Spock tournament. Their secret ingredients – plural, you will note – are, Alton claims, ‘inspired by your recent sojourn in The Hamptons.’ He goes on to describe them as ‘the types of ingredients guaranteed to create satisfying, enjoyable offerings appropriate for a relaxing Hamptons afternoon.’ And those ingredients are…

Three varieties of Keebler Town House crackers and Entwine wine.

Wow. Really? I would have considered a nice brie, or a delicate foie gras, or perhaps some Beluga Caviar paired with a fine cognac, maybe even a bottle of Chateau Latour (within reason, of course) before I would have picked some cheap crackers and a $10 bottle of Chard to represent The Hamptons.  And that $10 Chard, by the way, is an unremarkable domestic wine bottled exclusively for Food Network by the Wente Vineyards of California. Nothing like whoring your own brand.

This time, the two chefs remaining – if I calculated that correctly – will have thirty minutes to prepare not one but ‘three bites, featuring Town House crackers and Entwine wines, using all three crackers as serving vessels.’  Once again it seems that these instructions are fairly ambiguous and Chef Michael clarifies for us from the depths of the Stainless Steel Cookware Showroom that what they actually have to do is use the crackers as both an ingredient and as a means of serving their creations. No clarification, however, on the use of the wine.

When they are finished, Chef Liz has three distinctive and well-plated ‘bites’ and Chef Michael has three shot glasses full of ground crackers topped with crackers with some stuff on them. If it were on presentation alone, I would certainly give this to Chef Liz. At the judging  table, Alton discloses that the two remaining chefs were challenged to ‘create three one-bite offerings using Town House crackers and Entwine wines,’ and the judges sit and stare at him as though unconcerned with such trivialities, perhaps wondering what relevance this has apart from revenue from product placement.

With a perfectly straight face, Alton then informs the staring judges that ‘Clearly you shouldn’t cook with a wine that you would not drink, so today both chefs succeeded in using excellent wines to good result.’ Simon Majundar’s eyes fly open widely at this. Indeed, like me, he is clearly taken aback because a) how could Alton possibly know if something was used to good results if the three required bites haven’t been tasted yet and, b) he thought the two remaining chefs were supposed to cook with Entwine wine, not with an excellent wine.

Chef Michael’s goat cheese with cabernet caviar pearls was ‘impressive’ to Judges Judy and Michael but lacked layers of flavour for Judge Simon. His sardine escabeche with panzanella was ‘just there’ for Judge Judy, though she declines to pinpoint just where ‘just there’ is.  Finally the chicken liver mousse with a cabernet mustard and piece of cracker made into brittle had some nice texture.  Chef Liz offers shrimp and grits on a Town House cracker for which each judge had only praise, a chicken liver mousse and red wine syrup called ‘nicely savoury’ by Judge Judy, and a curry-spiced lamb meatball with raita and quite a lot of cumin in it which Judge Simon enjoyed  despite the contorted faces he made. 

Judge Simon, shockingly, considers the three small plates with distinctly different ‘bites’ on them provided by Chef Liz to be substandard to the three shot glasses with ground crackers in them from Chef Michael but he does agree with Judge Michael that what really matters is ‘Whose food tastes the best’ and that one of them will go on to ‘shake up Darth Zakarian,’ newest member of The Food Network Sith Empire.  Given that the nature of the Secret Ingredient Showdown – or ‘sudden-death cook off’ – is to best utilise and integrate the secret ingredient, very little is actually discussed in that regard until the very end when it is decided that the chef who used the cheap crackers and $10 wine to the fullest possible extent wasn’t Chef Michael.

But the shocking twists don’t end there. As Chef Michael walks the lonely perp walk into the blazing yellow lights of the giant alien spacecraft at the end of the room, Alton Brown, seated with the judges, folds his hands before him on the table and explains to the two remaining chefs that there are

           and, for the first time in seven long weeks, the endless crashing soundtrack from Predator falls silent to allow this idea to sink in. It would also appear that the idea that we had seen the last Secret Ingredient Showdown is undeniably false, as the two chefs remaining are seen to be battling for supremacy next week in Kitchen Stadium using some sort of Secret Ingredient and that Chairman Mark will, at some point, bestow upon one of them with whooshy Kung Fu noises the title of The Next I-ron Chef – an interesting idea for a series if it didn’t suck so much…

How To Make An Enquiry

INCORRECT:

‘Yeah, I was looking for – you had it in your ad, I think, a couple weeks ago – like a can or something – see we’ve got these wood floors – well, I mean now we have the wood floors after we ripped up all the carpet. That stuff was a everywhere, you know? And, like the dogs had peed on it – not our dogs – we don’t have dogs. I mean, I had one a long time ago – a dog – but, like, my wife’s allergic to them now or something. But her mom had a couple of dogs – those little Pekingese dogs – you know, like the ones with those smashed-in faces and stuff? That’s what she had. I had a collie – you know, like Lassie? Only it was a guy dog, not a girl. I mean, Lassie was a guy dog supposably but it was really a girl dog playing a guy dog. His name was Eddie. My dog, I mean. I don’t know what they called the dog that played Lassie other than Lassie. I named him off of Eddie Van Halen. He plays guitar. Eddie Van Halen, I mean, not Eddie. He died when I was 10. Eddie – not Lassie. I don’t know when Lassie died. Eddie Van Halen’s still alive too. Maybe it’s that dandruff or something like that – I mean, the allergies my wife has to dogs. Or the hair. I guess that’s what you call it – that hair that dog’s have? Like the Pekingese? You just call it hair, I think. Or maybe it’s the fur or something. But it was all over – the carpet was, I mean, not the dog hair – with the pee stains, and we had to tear it up. See, we got the house from her mom – well, not really “got” on account of her mom was diagnosed with cancer and we couldn’t afford Hospice and stuff so we moved in to help her out as much as possible, but the pee was bad. On the carpet I mean. I mean, she peed too – not my wife – I mean she pees, but not on the carpet – but her mom does too. I mean, not on the carpet or anything other than that one time. The dogs. I mean, she doesn’t pee on dogs or nothing. But the smell was pretty rank – the pee, I mean, not the dogs or anything because we can’t have them any more because of the hair or whatever – so we had to pull it all up because her husband couldn’t do it no more. I mean, my wife’s dad. He was married once before, though. My wife’s mom was his second wife, not his first wife. His first wife was from Nong Phai or something in Cambodia, I think. He met her during the war after he shot up her family on accident in a raid along the Mekong in ‘68 or something like that. I guess they had real distant ties to Dézōng in the Qing Dynasty or whatever. I mean, why they were living in Nong Phai is anybody’s guess. But with his back – her dad, I mean, not Dézōng, ‘cause, I mean, he’d be, like, over a hundred now – I mean, my wife’s dad – he couldn’t do it and so we had to help him take care of it and so we exposed it – I mean the wood, not the things about China or nothing – and now it’s easier ‘cause there’s no more pee. But when her mom died and her dad got put in a VA place or something like that on account of the bad flashbacks we kinda got the house from them and so we want to try to take care of that. What do you think would do that pretty easy?’

CORRECT:

‘Do you have a cleaner to remove the smell of dog urine from wood floors?’

Musings on The Next Iron Chef 4.6

In a completely unrehearsed, very realistic, and totally natural-looking manoeuvre, the five remaining chefs who are all, rather oddly, wearing their white coats for a day out in New York (all, that is, except for Chef Alex who wears black to help disguise her considerably widening pyramidal form from too many hours of sitting at the Chopped judges table) turn quickly in stone-faced unison from a railing overlooking a view of Manhattan and march dramatically towards the camera whilst the thundering score of  Predator crashes away. I see groups of tourists do this all the time. Absolutely not staged in any way at all.

Arriving at an auction house in Chelsea – not too far, it would seem, from the Chelsea Market, home of The Food Network so the chefs wouldn’t have far to walk – host Alton Brown swaggers arrogantly to a transparent acrylic podium to announce to the five remaining chefs that there are

because the shot only just seconds ago of the five of them dramatically marching towards the camera clearly had not given anyone ample time to discern their now diminishing number.

The reason, it is explained, for the posh auction-house setting is because a) the title of the episode is Food Auction and b) auctions are all about ‘risk’ and so, conveniently, is The Chairman’s Challenge this week and c) risk-taking is an important part of being an I-ron Chef, so says Alton Brown. I find it heartening to know that the Food Network panders to absolutely the lowest common denominator and makes a concerted effort to make these deeply entrenched metaphorical links between setting and challenge for the viewing audience and for the clearly confused and mesmerised chefs. I would not expect them to hand out a candy bar and require the chefs to make a filet mignon from it, but if, say, we should happen to find ourselves at a slaughterhouse with a sledgehammer and a black rubber apron, is any further explanation needed to solidify the forthcoming concept?

Alton drones on amidst the thundering percussion that here at the auction house the thankfully very absent Chairman Mark has coincidentally devised an auction for the chefs and they will be bidding on five currently hidden  ingredients (because there are five chefs remaining as we had to be told, and more ingredients would simply confuse things) with which to make their next dishes. Pacing dramatically and using as many important-looking hand gestures as possible, Alton explains as if he were deciphering the rules of Brokian Ultra-Cricket to five-year-olds that ‘time, rather than money, is currency in Kitchen Stadium.’ Thus the chefs, with just 60 minutes as their exchange medium, will gain an ingredient by offering the lowest bid. The fifth ingredient will, of course, go to someone by default and that chef will get the misfortune of having five less minutes to cook.

Thankfully, Chef Geoffrey, from inside the safe zone of the Stainless Steel Cookware Showroom, translates this into the much simpler ‘Its a reverse auction.’

Wagyu beef is not pronounced Why-goo and is ‘sold’ to Chef Geoffrey who claims to be able to cook it in 30 minutes. Chef Anne purchases the canned sardines no-one else wanted for a paltry 50 minutes. At the sight of a live lobster everyone says ‘Oh!’ as if they have never seen a live lobster and Chef Michael ‘buys’ it for 25 minutes, just hedging out Chef Alex who really wanted it but not badly enough to spend 25 minutes on it.  In a battle of wills, Chef Liz pulls the tuna jerky out from under the once-more hedging Chef Alex for the meagre sum of 25 minutes which leaves Chef Alex only 20 minutes to prepare the default fifth ingredient of leg of lamb. In not sure where, in the convoluted rules, it was explained that the last chef would have 5 minutes less to cook than the lowest bid made (25 minutes in this case) but then it would not be the first time in this idiotic series that rules changed dramatically in mid-stream or weren’t clearly articulated from the beginning. 

Chef Alex says she can’t think of a worse scenario. Maybe mistaking a rectangular pool of steaming hot water for a hard surface or having to make a filet mignon from a candy bar or being dropped on a desert island to hunt, kill, field dress, and prepare a wild boar in 15 minutes, sticking her face in a fan, or getting on a treadmill…

Alton threatens to announce the advantage Chef Anne has gained as the winner of the challenge last week but waits until everyone has gathered in the kitchen (which appears to be the same kitchen we saw last week passed off as the kitchen of Charlie Palmer’s restaurant) so he can, instead, tell them that their challenge is about taking risks with the ingredients they have recently bid for.

The clock is set for 50 minutes (for Chef Anne) and each successive chef will be let loose in the kitchen as their bargained-for time approaches. Chef Geoffrey, facing the white tiled wall whilst Chef Anne runs about with her 20 minutes head start, mutters that ‘This is devastatingly difficult to watch.’ Indeed it is, Chef Geoff. Top Chef is done with much better quality.

Only when the cooking is through does Alton finally introduce the advantage Chef Anne has won: to act as a fourth judge and determine which of her fellow Ironites has, in her estimation, the least successful and least risky dish and, as such, who will be one of the two contenders in the Secret Ingredient Showdown.  She has to write her answer on a secret card which no-one but Alton gets to see.

Switching quickly to the set of The Wall, Alton explains to the gathered judges that the Chairman’s Challenge was about risk and, irritatingly, he rambles on about how they – the judges – are to somehow (and rather unfairly, it would seem) determine – without actually having seen the way the challenge had played out – which of the five chefs remaining risked more in preparing their dish and, ultimately, which of them will face the Secret Ingredient Challenge, which is something like a ‘sudden death cook-off’ of sorts.

Chef Geoffrey produced ‘an exemplary dish’ with his 30 minutes Wagyu beef whereas Chef Anne’s 50 minute three-piece sardine special was disliked enormously by Judge Simon – especially her sardine bread pudding served in a sardine tin. The 25 minute lobster & saffron risotto from Chef Michael wasn’t terribly risky for Judge Simon but Judge Judy and Judge Michael disagreed. Alton then takes a moment to add, by way of an explanation to the judges, that the Chairman’s Challenge was all about risk as he has not been presented enough opportunity this episode to reiterate these critical details. The judges stare at him.

Chef Alex’s 20 minute leg of lamb sausage and bitter greens salad met with some mixed reviews whilst the 25 minute tuna jerky soufflé from Chef Liz was a surprising hit amongst the judges.

As the Ironites gather together on the set of The Wall, Alton seizes an opportunity to make it abundantly clear that ‘the Chairman’s Challenge today was risk’ and, with that in mind for a least a few precious seconds before it is once again lost amidst the chaos of people doing stuff and some talking and the constant slamming of drums, blatting of French horns and the piercing scream of strings, it is announced that the biggest risk of all was taken with tuna jerky by Chef Liz. At this news, Chef Anne shakes her head in disgust. Alton does, however, remind Chef Liz that her name – despite what the judges have chosen  – could be on the little card Chef Anne filled in earlier.

It isn’t, of course. But it could have been.

Chef Anne rolls her eyes hugely as Chef Michael’s lobster risotto is named a close second and because his name is also not on the secret card she filled in. Chef Geoffrey, whose dish would have won him the challenge had it not been followed by Chef Liz’s tuna, is, shockingly, the name of Chef Anne’s secret card and he will face off against – Chef Anne.

Karma is, indeed, a bitch.

As Chefs Anne and Geoffrey return to what passed for Charlie Palmer’s kitchen, Alton Brown smugly announces that ‘fate apparently has arranged this meeting today’ and that the two chefs will have thirty minutes to cook one dish using one – or in this case two – secret ingredients: Panko bread crumbs and Ponzu soy & lime sauce ‘courtesy of the fine folks at Kikkoman’ (all promotional considerations paid). The bit of a fly in this particular ointment is that the chefs are instructed to banish thoughts of savoury and focus entirely on making a dessert with these ingredients.  ‘One chef survives to cook another day,’ Alton informs them. ‘The other will not be The Next I-ron Chef.’ So this is rather like a ‘sudden death cook-off’ for them.

Throughout some dramatic rack focus shots of the chefs cooking in the background with carefully placed boxes of Panko bread crumbs and bottles of Ponzu sauce in the foreground, Chef Anne and Chef Geoffrey create their dishes. But all too soon things take a turn for the repetitive as, back on the set of The Wall, Alton explains to the judges that the two chefs had just thirty minutes to cook one dish – a dessert – from Panko bread crumbs and Ponzu sauce ‘courtesty of the fine folks at Kikkoman.’

Chef Geoffrey’s techniques are so good that they make Judge Michael a bit mad; Judge Judy wanted to pour the side of delicious gazpacho on top of the soufflé to blend the two together; Judge Simon isn’t a fan of powdered sugar dusted on things because he has to find some small detail to pick apart and not concur with the other two judges. The zucchini involtino with Ponzu ice cream Chef Anne presented showed a great deal of skill and utilisation of the products – courtesy of the fine folks at Kikkoman – and it is surprisingly unanimous amongst the judges that she executed an amazing balance between sweet and savoury. Chef Geoffrey’s irritatingly dusted with powdered sugar soufflé, however, showed more finesse and mastery of the secret ingredients and it is Chef Anne who is shown through the Big Cartoon Doors of Doom.

Chef Alex, with a suspiciously increasing amount of air time from the Stainless Steel Cookware Showroom, tells us that it’s very Shakespearean how Chef Anne ‘pulled out her sword and then fell on it.’ Alton Brown explains to the final four chefs remaining that they are, coincidentally, the ‘Final Four’ and that ‘the next step in your journey to Kitchen Stadium will take us all far from our location here in New York City.’ That place, if the poorly edited teasers are any indication (and they usually are), will be Montauk, New York, some 120 miles from New York City and home of Camp Hero and the famous Montauk Project, where Alton will not only disclose just how many chefs are still remaining in the competition but where he will admonish those remaining to ‘do the math, kids.’

Time to grab a calculator…

Musings on The Next Iron Chef 4.5

I wanted to apologise to the three of you, but due to other commitments, I entirely missed out on the Sunday night world premiere transmission of  New York on a Plate, the uninspired title of this week’s shit sandwich from our friends at Food Network – a title reworked from the equally uninspired You on a Plate used so often on The Next Food Network Star – but I did see the final tense moments during the re-transmission on Wednesday where I sat teary-eyed from the incredible amount of yawning I was doing from just having spent 13 hours between university and my degrading position at  Big Box DIY.  Shockingly, it appears that  of the

most of them have come with only one idea in mind: to be the Next I-ron Chef. Which seems quite advantageous for them considering that the nature of the programme upon which they have found themselves is concerned with finding precisely that very thing.

As they gather in New York’s Grand Central Terminal, Alton Brown explains to them that they have ‘transitioned across our, uh, great continent’ and, with his right hand, imitates the motion of a spider moving right to left in the universal sign for Transition, and tells them that they are gathered in New York’s Grand Central Terminal.  Wasting no time, he leaps into explaining that the Chairman’s Challenge this week is all about ‘Storytelling’ and how having a good story with your food – and about your food – is, potentially, maybe, the difference between victory and defeat.

The Ironites are told that they will have to ‘come up with a tasty offering and a story’  (hence Storytelling) ‘inspired by a location’ represented on a series of six flash cards Alton is clenching in his spidery grasp. Chef Michael, having won the advantage last time, gets to choose last. He clears his throat in response. Obviously he has not seen this or any other competition programme on Food Network before and is not aware that once the flash cards are doled out, he will get to take one he prefers from one of his competitors – and this is precisely what happens.

Chef Anne draws Central Park and Chef Alex is in awe, believing that ‘grasses, birds, flowers’ all are things which lend themselves well to food – one of several reasons I would not eat at Butter or The Darby. Chef Liz gets The Statue of Liberty. Chef Marcus is handed Broadway. Chef Alex is quite thrilled to have been given The Empire State Building. Chef Geoff draws Times Square, and Chef Michael, told that he can pick the location he prefers, chooses The Statue of Liberty from Chef Liz, sticking her with the Brooklyn Bridge.

They will be given $250 to spend and 20 minutes to shop at Grand Central Market for, as Alton states, ‘the components with which you will build your edible narrative.’ Two mysterious ‘guest judges’ will be joining the fun later at Charlie Palmer’s restaurant in Grand Central Terminal, the place where the festivities will soon take place. I would hazard a guess that one guest judge will be Charlie Palmer (because if the past is any indication, and it usually is, the owner of the featured restaurant almost always gets to be a guest judge whether anyone’s heard of them or not) and the other will be I-ron Chef Marc Forgione, winner of Who Wants to be an I-ron Chef last year – because if the badly-edited trailers are any indication, and the usually are, he was shown sitting next to I-ron Chef Michael Symon and someone who must be the mysterious Charlie Palmer.

With the addition of the two mystery judges, Alton emphasises that the six remaining chefs will need to make six plates of food and then sends them on their merry way, but not before explaining to them the very critical detail that they will have 45 minutes to ‘prepare a dish that tells a story about your chosen New York City locations.’

These people are chefs, not Systems Integration Specialists at Lockheed-Martin – the need for repetition, redundancy, and reiteration is obvious.

Amidst the chaos of shopping, Chef Marcus is told at one point by a butcher that he can get ‘Why-goo’ beef. Though it is, sadly, often mispronounced as such, it is spelt ‘Wagyu’ and the preferred pronunciation is ‘Wah-gyoo.’  It’s unfortunate that Chef Beau did not make it through to this round, as Wagyu is also called Kobe and Chef Beau won Iron Chef America series 3, Battle Kobe Beef. But he didn’t and is probably crying himself to sleep tonight on his huge pillow.

Once the shopping spree has ended and the chefs assemble at Charlie Palmer’s to begin cooking, Alton takes a moment to remind them that this challenge is about ‘cooking up good food and a tasty tale’ and that they will have just 45 minutes to create ‘one fantastic New York City story on a plate’ and insists that they understand that they will have to prepare six meals because of the extra two judges. Maybe if he just wrote this stuff down for them…

‘I can’t think of anywhere I don’t wanna be more in the universe right now,’ Chef Alex mentions, after she’s dumped half of her food into a sink full of hot water, and these are sentiments I share completely. Big Bang Theory on the DVR is beckoning me. I do wonder, though… Apart from the chafing irritation I get from Chef Alex, she doesn’t necessarily strike me as dumb. So what was it about the giant steaming rectangular hole full of liquid which appeared to her to be a solid and perfectly adequate surface upon which to set her tray of food? Do only her minions do the washing up and she’s never seen a sink before?

Fortunately for her she only lost her potatoes and some green things and has roughly 20 minutes remaining to try cooking them again. And thankfully Alton Brown is there with consoling words about how they are supposed to make a meal based around an iconic New York City location and tell a story with their food because he has nothing better to do with his time now that Good Eats is in eternal syndication.

The judging, with special guest judges Charlie Palmer – as expected – and I-ron Chef Marc Forgione – also as expected – is the typical lame talking points and, of course, Judge Michael’s lack of correct verb tense, all crushed under the strenuous weight of the ever-present militaristic Predator soundtrack. Chef Anne makes a good showing, impressing Guest Judge Marc with her successful ability to speak. Chef Alex has the judges smell her warm nuts as something of an appetiser and defines the green things she re-made as Brussels sprout leaves whilst Judge Simon thoroughly poo-poos her second attempt at potatoes. Chef Geoffrey once more goes against the previous and constant warning of the judges and makes a five-course menu which makes Judge Judy want to spank him, whilst Guest Judge Marc is confused about eating scrambled eggs. Chef Michael’s story is far too lengthy and quite rambling which cuts into the time Judge Simon could have used to talk. Chef Marcus didn’t, to the thinking of the now finally able to speak Judge Simon, have a cohesive story/dish combination and Chef Marcus feels he has been wronged because he ‘interpretated’ Broadway in two very different yet strong ways. And, finally, Chef Liz creates a fabulous dish with a less than enthusiastic story which bores the usually very chatty Judge Simon.

Returning to the set of Pink Floyd’s The Wall, which also apparently has ‘transitioned across our, uh, great continent,’  it is decided that Chef Anne did the best job with her story/food combo and Chef Michael was a close second with his tasty yet sadly ‘beige on beige’ food and long-winded dissertation which had compromised Judge Simon’s length of time on camera (which is a little industry speak for on the camera). Apart from having made the judges smell her warm bag of nuts and serving them second chance soft potatoes, Chef Alex moves ahead in the competition as does a surprised Chef Geoffrey, though he is scolded for  having ‘too many notes’ in his multi-part dish. This, clearly, places Chef Liz and Chef Marcus in what is considered to be something of a ‘sudden death cook-off,’ The Secret Ingredient Challenge.

Back in the kitchen of Charlie Palmer’s, Chefs Liz and Marcus are told by Alton Brown that they were deemed the least successful in the Chairman’s Challenge, which helps to soften the blow of being in the bottom, and he explains to them that they will have one chance to redeem themselves through The Secret Ingredient Challenge wherein they will be given thirty minutes to cook one dish using one ingredient – the secret ingredient. The chef who presents the best dish will ‘survive to cook another day,’ and the other chef will face the Big Cartoon Doors of Doom. So this could be described as being rather like a ‘sudden death cook-off’ of sorts.

Their Secret Ingredient will be bagels – indicative of New York – and Chef Liz laughs knowingly whilst Chef Marcus ponders the rhetorical ‘What can I do in thirty minutes with bagels?’  Alton reminds them, even though they’ve yet to start and it was less than ten seconds since the last time he mentioned it, they will have thirty minutes to create ‘one bagel-centric dish that makes the judges go “Wow.”’

‘Wow’ is not at the forefront of my thoughts as Chef Liz makes a toasted bagel and cream cheese ice cream to top off smoked salmon on a bed of eggplant, black olive, and bagel purée with a sprinkling of browned bagel breadcrumbs, however Judge Michael and Judge Judy felt it was a thoughtful and well executed dish. Judge Simon, ever the voice of dissent, found the ice cream more interesting than successful but he felt the remainder of the dish came together very well.  Chef Marcus’ interpretation of lox, bagel, and cream using pickled trout, bagel dumplings and a gazpacho ‘cream’ with coconut milk, toasted bagels, nuts and grapes was favoured by Judge Judy and Judge Simon, but Judge Michael felt the gazpacho ‘muddled’ the flavours.

After the judges make their decision, Chefs Liz and Marcus are called back onto the set of The Wall where Alton helpfully explains to them that they had been charged with creating ‘one bagel-centric dish to remain in this competition’ but only one of them ‘truly embraced the Secret Ingredient which, of course, was bagel.’ And that chef, of course, was not Chef Marcus who receives the news that he will not be the next I-ron Chef as if he just realised Old Yeller has rabies and needs to be put down.

Next time everyone says ‘Oh!’ when they see a live lobster and Chef Anne will want to throw up.

And now on to Big Bang Theory. Bazinga!