I’m not sure when humans found enough downtime to invent sports. Just trying to make it to the top of the food chain was contest enough and an often deadly one at that. That’s when you didn’t have to be fast to survive being charged by a T-Rex or an angry lion. You just had to be faster than your hunting partner.
Perhaps after some nomadic tribe (not to be confused with a pneumatic one which would just be a group of inflatable people) found themselves with a Wooly Mammoth on the Green Egg, they had some time on their hands. After all, Mammoth leftovers go for days. What with the sandwiches, soups, tetrazzini and all, they wouldn’t have to hunt for a couple of weeks. That’s likely when the bored hunters made up competitions to keep themselves occupied.
Next thing you know we had marathons, chariot races, gladiator battles and bingo. One thing just led to another. Professional leagues weren’t too far behind. The NFL, NHL, NASCAR, MLB, NBA and FIFA are all part of the ever-growing alphabet soup of professional sports. But let’s not forget the FFF.
Never heard of the FFF? That's because I just made it up. I marvel at how we make even the most essential, mundane daily activities into a competition. FFF stands for Food Fight Federation. It has nothing to do with throwing food and everything with cooking it.
I’m not referring to all the BBQ smoke offs and pie baking contests. I’m talking about the hardcore kitchen battles that television has brought us. “Iron Chef” was the first one I remember. Since then, the genre has grown to include “Beat Bobby Flay” and “Chopped.” Let’s forget “Guy’s Grocery Games” which spun off of “Diners, Dive-ins, and Dives”. Guy’s seeming propensity toward naming shows with such alliteration (triple D and triple G) should make him a fan of the FFF or “triple F” if you prefer.
I have nothing against these shows. In fact, I watch them. Or I should say, my wife watches them, and I just tag along. And I do enjoy them...in small doses. But they do bring some questions to my tiny mind.
These shows task the chefs to prepare dishes with a mixture of traditional and oddball items. I get how this shows their knowledge of food and highlights their creativity, but when was the last time you went to a restaurant and found a dish that included clam flavored candy canes? That was a real ingredient on one of the shows I saw. What restaurant kitchen on Earth stocks those? If you find one that does, don’t eat there. They obviously don’t know how to order supplies. And don’t get me started on who thought that making clam flavored candy canes would be a great idea. Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.
I saw one show where they had to incorporate tuna jerky into a dessert. Who knew tuna jerky even existed? Do the folks who prepare these challenges spend all their time at truck stops? Oddly enough, the chef was able to make a dessert that the judges actually found tasty.
On some shows, they’ll throw a monkey wrench into the works. They’ll bring out a “surprise” ingredient midway through the competition that the chefs must also incorporate into their creations. The real surprise isn’t whatever inane item that now must be thrown into the mix. It’s the fact that five really sharp kitchen knives don’t get flung at the host. Never poke a bear or a chef under a ton of pressure.
The judges face their own challenges in having to critique the dishes that emerge from these strange combinations. I love it when they say a dish is interesting and even inspired followed by “but that’s not the approach I would have taken.” Really?! How would you approach making an edible entrée out of grass clippings, blood orange and a convenience store taquito cooked with nothing but a welding torch in fifteen minutes? I’d love to hear one of the frazzled competitors challenge the judges to prepare a dish with the same ingredients. Compare the two and then we’ll see who really knows their stuff.
I wonder how many of the judges—usually accomplished chefs or restaurateurs—have second thoughts about judging these competitions. I imagine the conversation in their brain while eating a dessert made of Nutella and tuna jerky goes something like this: “I spent thousands on culinary school and countless years in the kitchen to build my career and I’m having to eat THIS?” Make no mistake. I don’t feel sorry for them. Television pays pretty darn well. They can afford plenty of Pepto Bismol.
I’m not sure where this all ends. Everything gets stale after a time and must be goosed up a bit. I can hear it now, “chefs in your basket you’ll find a can of spam, a garden hose and a rock with which to prepare a beef wellington. You have eight minutes. Good luck!”
If they really wanted to spice things up a bit, they should combine these cookoffs with competitive eating. Pair a chef with a competitive eater. If the eater can eat more than the chef can prepare in a certain time period, they win. Better yet, have the pair compete against other chef-eater pairs. The team that is able to cook and consume the most food in a given time wins.
“Beat Bobby Flay” is a different twist on these chef showdowns. Two chefs compete for the opportunity to take on Bobby. Bobby picks an ingredient they must feature in their dish. The winner gets to challenge Bobby with their signature dish. I don’t think they’d like to have me on the show. My signature dish is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but I’d put it up against Flay’s PB&J any day.
I’d like to have someone say mac-n-cheese is their signature dish. While Bobby is pulling out the pasta and heavy cream, the other chef pulls out a box of Kraft and whips it up in ten minutes. While Bobby’s would be spectacular, I wager the judges would be won over by the sentimental aspect of the blue box saying, “hmmm…just like mom used to make.”
And Mom’s cooking always wins…even when it’s out of a box.
