A discerning diner I am not. I admit it. I love pizza and macaroni and I eat PB&J for lunch every day. I have only recently become acquainted with fine dining thanks to 801 Chophouse. While I ate my first meal at 801 a light bulb literally went off in my head, so that is what properly prepared meat tastes and chews like? Generally speaking, my taste in culinary entertainment is similar to my taste in food itself. Plain and simple is good enough for me. Spring Baking Championship? I’ll take it. America’s Test Kitchen? I’d love to pretend that I’ll whip up that recipe. Top Chef? Yes, please. And then I was introduced to Netflix’s Chef’s Table, the 801 Chophouse to my homemade pizza pie. Exquisitely simple, Chef’s Table will open your eyes to new ways to think about what we eat, how we eat and the chefs who imagine the possibilities.
Chef’s Table profiles one chef in each episode, all at the cutting edge of their field and at the top of their game. Most of these Chefs operate restaurants that are among the best in the world, some awarded multiple Michelin stars. The appeal of Chef’s Table lies in its’ minimalism. The show employs a beautifully simple documentary style: the chef telling their origin story and a couple of critics or fellow chefs explaining their influence on the culinary field intercut with passages of their work in a kitchen creating dishes.
With breathtaking cinematography, not just of the food but of the locales as well, Chef’s Table forces you to consider food as more than sustenance and dining as more than simply the exercise of eating. Whether it be in Peru, Slovenia, New Zealand or right down the road in Chicago, you will be astounded by what chefs are doing with food. Virgilio Martinez uses natural ingredients from Peru to create dishes based on the region and altitude from which the ingredients originated. Ana Ros uses similarly natural ingredients from her native Slovenia. Ivan Orkin perfects the deceptively complex and layered Japanese ramen dish. And then there are the edible balloons from the mind of Grant Achatz. Edible balloons, people. I know, it’s hard to comprehend. Google it.
The road to becoming a chef was different for all of these men and women. Some knew from a young age that pursuing a career in culinary arts was their only desired course. Others are self-taught. For some, cooking was a means to an end, a way to travel or secure a green card. As varied as their backgrounds are, the singular similarity between these chefs is absolutely striking: they have found their calling. Rarely in life do we identify a singular passion. Even more rarely do we get the chance to live it every day. These chefs did and do, and it radiates from their being. And more than just enjoying cooking, the chefs love and appreciate the effect of cooking and eating together and the emotional connections it has the power to create.
Their other commonality: an innate willingness. Whether it is trying new ingredients, techniques or plating, or perfecting the perfect dough (even if it takes hundreds of loaves), these chefs are relentless in their willingness to do. Obsession and perfection are common themes.
All of the enthusiasm poured out thus far has been without mention of the chefs' fascinating, often incredibly humbling, personal stories. And though my Midwestern sensibilities lead me to believe that I would likely be ready for some dinner after enjoying a meal at one of these incredible restaurants - I seem to have the metabolism of Pizza Rat - not to mention the fact that some of the dishes are so stunning that it seems a shame to ruin the composition by eating it, the prospect of dining at one of these restaurants is what dreams are made of.
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