Leave it to Korea to give an old recipe a new taste.
Culinary Class Wars pits accomplished and award-winning Korean chefs against up-and-coming young chefs for the grand prize of 300 million won (roughly US$227,000).
So what’s new? This Netflix-produced series just dropped on September 17, and it isn’t your garden variety cooking competition. The producers do not scrimp on the production and like all Korean dramas or production, they go big and swing for the fences. Think of this as a Michael Bay production except it is food.
For starters, there are 100 chefs in the competition. Yes, 100! Twenty White Spoons or accomplished and award-winning chefs, versus 80 amateur chefs—up-and-comers and maverick cooks who either never went to culinary school or are self-taught. One even cooks in a nondescript place such as a school! Another learned to cook through comic books!
Madness? Maybe. Think of the Kinji Fukasaku film Battle Royale except this is about food! And right off the bat, 60 Black Spoons are eliminated. We hardly get to know them or even see what they all had to prepare, and they are gone.
What makes Culinary Class Wars even crazier is there are only two judges: celebrity chef Paik Jong-won and Korea’s only three-Michelin star chef Anh Sung-jae. Either they unanimously agree on a winner or they break down every aspect of the food until they can both agree on who survived the match-up and will move on.
The White Spoons, who earned a first round bye, swing into action the next round where they go one-on-one with the remaining 20 survivors. In fact, some of the White Spoons are just as lauded and maybe even more tenured than the judges, but yet, here they are putting themselves at risk. But, really, being on Netflix makes it worthwhile because millions of people can watch it.
The Black Spoons more than hold their own, and the results are indeed surprising. After a couple of rounds of individual battles, there is a team competition.
Massive set
What makes this show even more attractive is the producers’ use of space wherein they transform a studio or set into a massive complex with a round table that seats 80 chefs and a mezzanine for dining, a kitchen area with first-class amenities, mini-groceries, container vans that contain what is like a meat locker, and one for fish that even contains aquariums, and a judging area.
Although the set looks somewhat sparse, it’s well-lit and furnished. The camera angles are spot on so as not to make it look too huge.
As with any cooking show, one looks forward to how the food is prepared, cooked, and served. But the chefs’ personal stories or journeys are as interesting as their food. This is where Culinary Class Wars gets too big for its britches. A hundred chefs in one space is more than a lot, more so when it comes to editing the footage.
The first few competitions go deep with the stories but then they chop up the process and show highlights going only into who survived for another round of competition and who goes home. And when the Black Spoons go up against their mentors (some of them worked in the kitchens of the White Spoon chefs), the stakes are raised.
I love the team competition. One cannot simply say the star chefs cannot work together because they have been their own bosses for a long time. Whether due to clever editing or for real, we see the White Spoon chefs quibble and express their misgivings during the meat competition where the Black Spoons stunned everyone by their willingness to work together and go with each of their strengths.
However, came the fish competition, the White Spoons won so that blew that theory about master chefs not working well together. Then there’s a consolation cook-off where others are still given a chance to showcase their talents.
Missed opportunity
There’s so much happening that the series should have included more characterization and information. Some of the chefs might be known in Korea, but to the larger world, they are not known at all. This is a missed opportunity because food tourism is massive today.
From the start, we see two Caucasian chefs in Joseph Lidgerwood and Fabrizio Ferrari, but we only get snippets of who they are or how they ended up in Korea. When Napoli Mafia says to chef Joseph Lidgerwood that he is going to rip the latter’s Michelin one-star off Lidgerwood’s apron, man… that’s culinary trash talk.
Aside from electronics and food, one of Korea’s biggest exports in recent years has been its popular culture, from films to television series and music. Korean food is one of the world’s rising cuisines, and this is a wonderful showcase of the country’s diverse talents.
Among them are the Goddess of Chinese Cuisine, the Comic Book Chef, Maniac, Napoli Mafia, and the Hidden Genius to name but a few of the Black Spoons who are accorded nicknames rather than their real names. From the White Spoon chefs, there are Lu Ching Lai, Edward Lee, Cho Eun-ju, and foreign chefs who have made Korea their home in Ferrari and Lidgerwood (Edward Lee is an American citizen of Korean ethnicity).
During the team competition, there are 100 judges who hide behind masks (I do not see how this helps) and are able to watch the tension or drama in the kitchen. I thought that was wrong because they could have formed biases and prejudices in their judging the food.
As it was in the rump beef duel that was won by White Spoon chef Lee Young-suk, Black Spoon Chef Hidden Genius reflected, “I learned a valuable lesson today, “sometimes, less is more.”
Culinary Class Wars could have been made better with less—fewer participants but with more time on the characterization and cooking.
Honestly, I am nitpicking, but Culinary Class Wars is very satisfying, fun, mouthwatering and inspiring. These are all you ever want in a cooking competition show anyway.
The first seven episodes (out of 12 are now available on Netflix).
