Chapter XLVI: Top Chef

Tonight was the season finale of Top Chef on BravoTV. Top Chef can be described as basically a synthesis of American Idol, The Real World, and Iron Chef in that it begins with a group of chefs living together in a house. The group is whittled down one at a time in a progression of culinary challenges until only the 'Top Chef' remains. That person wins $100,000.

One of two finalists was Tiffany, who was described by many of the other cast members as being a 'bitch.' Certainly, she kept a very brusque exterior during the whole competition, and her cooking philosophy seemed to be more about adhering to abtract ideals of culinary theory than pleasing the real-life clients.

After she lost in the last challenge to Harold, there was a poignant post-challenge interview where her facade cracked a tiny bit and you really saw that she was actually a decent person, who was just trying to win. It's sad that everyone else on the show hated her, and likewise in the viewer polls. I for one, was rooting for her.

It was often stated on the show that the difference between a cook and a chef is that a cook merely follows recipes, whereas a chef creates new ones. Top Chef showed me that, first, food is much more complex than I imagined, and second, that cooking is about much more than just the food. Even before you taste a dish, you see it, and smell it; in addition to flavor, there is texture.

Cooking is the only art that engages all five senses and each of these sensations must be carefully calibrated to achieve a singular effect, which is tailored to the individual client and circumstances. A prewritten recipe details what choices one chef found to be appropriate for one client at one point in time--and who knows, perhaps it may apply well to other times as also. But not always. A top chef must always question the arbitrary directives of a recipe, asking himself what effect a particular direction has, and what should be changed in light of his own needs.

And that's why I left the tater tots in the oven for half an hour instead of eight minutes--NOT because I was playing Literati and completely forgot about them. I used my chef's prerogative to override the silly plastic bag's heating instructions so as to enhance the texture, both visual and physical, of my creation. As Tiffany might say, comestibility is an easy price to pay, when artistic integrity is at stake.