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After my buddy Howie self-immolated himself a few weeks ago, my next favorite was Casey. If you take away the bluster (and the profusive sweat), Howie had proved himself in Quickfire challenges and elimination challenges, perhaps more than anyone else in this season. Mainly when it came to meat, and the subtle braising thereof, but then again Brian was typecast as the seafood-only guy and he made it several weeks past Howie and up to the slopes and valleys of Aspen.
I was never a real big fan of Hung. To me, he was Marcel from the season before -- so deep in his own internal dialog of cuisine that even the best minds of cooking in the world were just gnats to wave away. The fact that Marcel was in Hung's camp in the final bothered me even more, as Hung's personal Pacific fusion never really matched with Marcel's molecular gastronomy (Hung would recoil violently from Marcel's personal, loving stash of xantham gum and partially hydronogized Jojoba oil).
However, cooking is cooking and cuisine is cuisine, and very early on in this last episode, I knew Casey was cracking under the pressure. I figured Dale was out of his league, but he really surprised me with his effort, but he, perhaps, peaked too late. Hung really did knock three dishes out of the park, settling for a generic dessert...when no one else even tried one.
A half-hour in, and I think it was settled, even with the star- and reality- studded supporting cast of chefs and contestants.
Which, over all, was a little sad after the throat-to-throat, blood-to-blood, battle of Marcel and Ilan last season, the battle between scientific technique and heart-and-soul tradition, decided perhaps by age and experience over the near-tie of taste and presentation. As much as I disliked Hung as a contestant, versus the late-consistent cuisine of Casey and the reflex art of Dale, the winner this year was almost advertised by the courses as they elapsed.
As a final statement of the season, even though I was rooting for Casey out of the chefs who had survived, I thought it deliciously ironic that the only dish that the final judges really liked of Casey's four courses, was actually cooked by Howie.
I was never a real big fan of Hung. To me, he was Marcel from the season before -- so deep in his own internal dialog of cuisine that even the best minds of cooking in the world were just gnats to wave away. The fact that Marcel was in Hung's camp in the final bothered me even more, as Hung's personal Pacific fusion never really matched with Marcel's molecular gastronomy (Hung would recoil violently from Marcel's personal, loving stash of xantham gum and partially hydronogized Jojoba oil).
However, cooking is cooking and cuisine is cuisine, and very early on in this last episode, I knew Casey was cracking under the pressure. I figured Dale was out of his league, but he really surprised me with his effort, but he, perhaps, peaked too late. Hung really did knock three dishes out of the park, settling for a generic dessert...when no one else even tried one.
A half-hour in, and I think it was settled, even with the star- and reality- studded supporting cast of chefs and contestants.
Which, over all, was a little sad after the throat-to-throat, blood-to-blood, battle of Marcel and Ilan last season, the battle between scientific technique and heart-and-soul tradition, decided perhaps by age and experience over the near-tie of taste and presentation. As much as I disliked Hung as a contestant, versus the late-consistent cuisine of Casey and the reflex art of Dale, the winner this year was almost advertised by the courses as they elapsed.
As a final statement of the season, even though I was rooting for Casey out of the chefs who had survived, I thought it deliciously ironic that the only dish that the final judges really liked of Casey's four courses, was actually cooked by Howie.
