2000-06-11
Dear Diary:

I never thought of cooking as a gladiator type event, but thanks to the woman who brings us Krapsnart who in turn led me to the woman who is Squibnocket I heard about the Iron Chef. Whew. Now I can't look at a wok and not giggle.

You can imagine how much this alarms my friends and family, not to mention my cats.

For those of you who are not "foodies" and who do not sit glued to the Food Network every waking hour, Iron Chef is a Japanese TV show, sort of a cooking show except it comes with a professional wrestling type attitude. It's also sort of a game show except there's no prize at the end except winning itself. It all happens in Japanese with an odd mix of English subtitles and wacky Godzilla quality dubbing.

How could anyone NOT love a show that calls its set the Kitchen Stadium? A show that comes with a panel of commentators who discuss each chef's moves and ingredients with the same intensity that commentators analyse a football game? A show with a male host who feels there's no such thing as too many sequins? What's not to love?

And as if THAT wasn't enough, they even have a tuxedo clad pit reporter who's right there at each chef's elbow and goes absolutely mental with excitement every time a chef does something unexpected. "OMIGAWD, he's using abalone livers, I would have expected him to use crab roe! WAIT, WAIT, I think he's using OLIVE OIL AND NOT SESAME OIL!!!"

I know, I know, you're getting all tingly now just thinking about it. Try to control yourself, 'kay?

There are three Iron Chefs, one who specializes in traditional Japanese cooking, one in Chinese and one in French.

Seeing the Iron Chefs rise up on the set like Power Rangers in their colourful silk costumes for the first time, well ... (Marn daubs at her eyes with a Kleenex, clearly overwhelmed, but swiftly pulls herself together.)

Look, I'm sorry, but there are some moments too intense, too personal, to discuss even at Diaryland. Can we just move along here?

Each week one of the Iron Chefs faces a challenger, often a chef from a prominent Japanese restaurant. Within a hour they each have to make five dishes from scratch which are tested by a panel of judges and rated both on how they taste and how they look.

The trick here is that the chefs have to build their dishes around a mystery ingredient that they don't see until the clock starts counting down.

It's hard to convey how much hype the host puts into this. We're given a loving profile of the challenger. By the time the mystery ingredient is unveiled in a swirl of smoke and an over the top musical fanfare, the host has made it sound like whoever loses the challenge will bring shame on himself, his establishment, his family, and anyone who looks like him for generations to come.

Oh yeah, another cool thing is that the chefs say snippy things about each other to the pit reporter. If the challenger says something rude about the Iron Chef, the reporter whips right over to the Iron Chef and tells him. Then the Iron Chef says something huffy back. It's like watching pro-wrestling, only these guys have really big cleavers in their hands, eh. Bonus.

Apparently the Iron Chef wins more often than not.

Go figure.

Fortunately, the mystery ingredient on the show I watched with Paul was Chinese cabbage, so it wasn't too icky. Nevertheless, during Battle Chinese Cabbage, when one of the chefs tossed a whole fish into boiling oil to get it ready for a stew, it's eyes exploded. Then it's body went all weird and mummified looking. This was all shot in really, really tight close-up. My spousal unit bailed right about then.

I have heard that there have been shows built around things such as eel. Ewwwwww. I'm thinking the potential for gross out while watching Battle Eel would be pretty amazing.

I can hardly wait for re-runs so I can catch it.

--Marn

Old Drivel - New Drivel


Subscribe with Bloglines


Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


.:Cast:. .:Diaryland Notes:. .:Comments (0 so far):. .:E-mail:.
.:Adventures In Oz:.
.:12% Beer:. .:Links:. .:Host:. .:Archives:.

Cavort, cavort, my kingdom for a cavort Globe of Blogs 12 Per Cent Beer my partners in crime


A button for random, senseless, drive-by linkings:
Blogroll Me!


< ? blogs by women # >
Bloggers over forty + ?
<< | BlogCanada | >>
[ << ? Verbosity # >> ]
<< x Blog x Philes x >>


This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

Kids, don't try viewing this at home without Netscape 6 or IE 4.5+, a screen resolution of 800 X 600 and the font Mead Bold firmly ensconced on your hard drive.

�2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.