I’ve been watching a food reality TV show, and I hate myself for it.
On the other hand, I can’t keep away from it.
“Hell’s Kitchen” has been on Fox for 20 seasons, and I determinedly ignored it for the first 19. I don’t enjoy reality TV in general, partly because it is so unreal, and I stay away from food competition shows in particular because I believe that cooking at the highest level is an art, and art should not be competitive.
That said, I was absolutely hooked on “Iron Chef.” I am nothing if not hypocritical.
I have been caught up in “Hell’s Kitchen” this season because one of the contestants, Trenton Garvey, is executive chef at the Blue Duck in Maplewood. I interviewed him before the season began airing and liked him, so I decided to check in to see how he does.
Now I’m hooked.
Some of the allure, I think, comes from seeing this group of presumably talented young professional cooks fail — and fail miserably. That is why I hate myself for watching it.
The show pits professional cooks, from line cooks to executive chefs, against one another for a grand prize of serious value, a top position at a restaurant run by celebrated TV chef Gordon Ramsay. This season, for the first time, the 18 chefs are all between 21 and 23 years old, so at least they have the excuse of youthful inexperience. The winner will become head chef at Gordon Ramsay Steak at Paris Las Vegas.
That’s a huge deal. The restaurant was once named one of the top 10 steakhouses in America. A bone-in New York strip there goes for $69.95, a 10-ounce filet mignon costs $79.95 and a 34-ounce porterhouse will set you back $125.95. In other words, it’s not the kind of place you would want to hand over to a 21- to 23-year-old head chef (although they are now 23 to 25 years old; the show was filmed two years ago and delayed because of the coronavirus pandemic).
I just noticed this: You can order a 1 1/2-ounce serving there of Louis XIII cognac, the most expensive liqueur in the world, for $270. Or you can order a 1-ounce serving for $160 and a 1/2-ounce serving for $95 and save yourself 15 bucks.
Anyway, the pressure is intense for these cooks who are competing for the job of a lifetime. Their teammates are people they have never worked with before, and while teamwork is absolutely essential, each one also wants to stand out enough to be chosen the winner. And everything they do is liable to be seen by millions in a national television audience.
And don’t forget the Gordon Ramsay factor. Ramsay runs the show like a petulant bully, heaping extraordinarily public abuse on anyone and everyone who fails to meet his standards. When unhappy, he frequently throws food across the room. It is behavior that, coming from an infant, is unpleasant but not unexpected. In an adult, it is sociopathic.
Ramsay’s behavior, of course, is part of the show’s appeal. It is clearly put on (or at least exaggerated) for the sake of the cameras, but it cannot help but add to the stress faced by the contestants.
But still. These guys are all professionals (except for one food vlogger who, despite no apparent experience in a restaurant kitchen, thinks he should be called “chef”). They should be able to cook a piece of salmon or a breast of chicken.
Time and time again, at least in the first few weeks, the salmon comes out raw on the inside. The chicken comes out raw on the inside. The salmon comes out raw. The chicken comes out raw. Occasionally, the rack of lamb comes out raw.
Cooking meat to perfection may not be as easy as it appears, but it also honestly isn’t that hard. Every professional cook in the world should be able to press down on a piece of meat or chicken and know whether it is done. Fish is tougher to determine, but cooking salmon for 10 minutes per inch of thickness will get it done every time.
The problem is, these contestants are rushing. They are racing. They are in a competition where time is essential. But when they mess up and have to start over, after a theatrical dressing down by Ramsay, they end up spending far more time than they would if they had used a lower temperature and the 10-minute rule.
Which brings me to scallops. Scallops are easy. The sauce can be difficult, or at least creative, but the contestants’ repeated failures with scallops do not involve a sauce. They involve a sear.
Here is how to cook scallops: Heat a pan until it is hot. Add oil. Add scallops, but not too many in a single pan. Season with salt and pepper. Cook two minutes on one side, or a minute and a half if they are small, and one minute on the other side. Remove and serve. They will be succulent and perfectly seared.
How do the contestants keep getting that wrong? Is the pan not hot enough? Are they crowding too many scallops in a pan? It is not unthinkable that they could use two pans at the same time, if necessary. How can the scallops possibly come out undercooked?
I can’t wait to hear what insults Ramsay will scream next time, and see what food he will throw.
