Top Chef Masters - Delicious

Held with respect to those who have not seen yet. And there is a full paragraph without spoilers, so hopefully if you're still catching up, your eye won't graze anything.

The Top Chef Masters finale was a truly great TV moment. The fact that Kelly Choi got to sit down at the Getty and chat with three uber-silver foxes who can cook, and eat 12 competition plates full of heart and soul really makes me wonder why I didn’t have the sense to become a TV host. If I’d been there, I would have hit her in the head with a sockful of quarters and dumped her unconscious body (gently) in a closet, so that I could Eve Harrington my way into that dining room. Especially if I could have sat next to Jay Rayner.

I’m going to use the fact that Rick Bayless (my Oklahomey) won Top Chef Masters as a chance to talk about my favorite ethnic food – Mexican. It came up a few times last night, and it’s dead true. Mexican food doesn’t get the respect that it deserves. And if you’re sole experience is with Chuy’s, Chevy’s, Chi-Chi’s or any of the other bastardized, Americanized restaurants out there, you don’t know Mexican. Not that any of the Ch restaurants are necessarily bad. I like chips and salsa as much as the next gal. Saying that you know Mexican food because you’ve been to Chuy’s is like saying you know Italian because you’ve been to Pizza the Hutt.

But real Mexican cuisine (yeah, I said cuisine) is so much more varied than the boiled down version that Americans usually get. Each region of Mexico has it’s own palate of food. Baja is different from Sonora. Guanajuato is different from Oaxaca. And Mexico City is crazy mixed up flavors from everywhere (including Germany, because of the community of German immigrants). And all use local foods prepared in unique ways. Add into that each US border state that has its own twist, and you’ve got a culinary landscape that rivals any other country. How about squash blossom relleno with Oaxacan cheese and salsa verde? You won't be seeing that on the menu at Taco Bell.

And when I saw that Bayless was making black mole, I knew it was game on. Real, handmade mole is a spiritual experience. And you should open-mouthed kiss anyone who’s willing to make it for you, or at the very least offer them your first born child. Because that son of a gun is hard. And to put it with tuna and handmade tamales . . . the point Jay Rayner made about just sitting around making guttural noises of appreciation isn’t hyperbole. It’s just good reporting. The facts and nothing but the facts.

Of course, I thought Rick had screwed the pooch when I saw the foam on the last dish (quit with the foam – NOBODY likes the foam!), but I should have known the mole would conquer all. And I was definitely happy to see that he gutted it out by making a down and dirty barbecue recipe for his first memories dish, rather than froofing it up into something fancy. And for those who don’t have my intimate familiarity with Okie cuisine (okay, that one was a joke), the watermelon salad was pure OK. The man has a set of huevos on him. Plus if he can sell that crowd on SPAM (it was pig parts made into a loaf – that’s SPAMity SPAM, honey), that’s mad skills. Top Chef Master, indeed.

But, I’m prejudiced. I’d sell my soul for well-prepared camerones al mojo de ajo, or real fresh-made enchiladas. Or tamales. Or those rellenos . . . Then again, Chiarello’s short ribs looked damn tasty. And that Frenchy pot pie that Hubert did looked like it could rock your socks off. Damn. Where’s a sockful of quarters when you need one?