Welcome back to “I’m Sick of Your Shit.” It’s been a while since one of us got good and angry at a television personality. Sure, I want to push Pradeep on The Pick-Up Artist into traffic, but he’s so annoying he’s almost compelling. It’s too easy to rag on Pradeep. After all, he’s competing in VH1′s The Pick-Up Artist. No, I’ve got a bigger target in mind.
This may be my first season watching Top Chef, but I have a world of resentment built up already over head judge/co-host/meddler Tom Colicchio.
It’s probably blatantly obvious to those of you who’ve had several seasons to grow to despise Chef Colicchio’s irritating place in the Top Chef proceedings, but it seems clear that he demanded a more “important” role to the detriment of the way the show is run. Chef Colicchio rolls in on the chefs when they’re in the thick of their prep, silently judging them. Because, you see, unlike lovable Tim Gunn, Tom is not a mentor — he’s a judge (as he never lets anyone forget). He’s not there to give constructive advice. He’s just there to get in the way and undermine people’s confidence. He then takes his snide observations and brings them to the judge’s table, where he basically just stirs shit and gossips.
Here is the point in the post where I would normally say “I’m sure he’s a great chef and all,” but I don’t need to say that, because I have actually eaten in his flagship New York restaurant, Craft. The food was delicious. Simple dishes, mostly, and not a lot of flair in the presentation, but very good. My problem with the place was that it had the worst, most confusing menu I have ever seen in a restaurant (let alone a very fancy one). How many dishes should one person order? Which categories are you supposed to choose from? When do the sides come? How many people will each dish serve? None of these questions were answered satisfactorily and we ended up with way, way, way too much food. Best puree potatoes ever, but still.
God, now I want some puree potatoes. Where was I?
Oh right. It really bugs me how Tom can turn anything he sees in the kitchen — people getting along, people fighting, people in a hurry, people finishing early — into a flaw. Often, when we cut to his talking head after he’s done his kitchen rampage, he’s basically already decided who he thinks should win and who should lose. To see people making mistakes and to not offer a single word of advice? He wants them to embarrass themselves, to make him look better in comparison.
It’s like the confusing menu in his restaurant. It’s purposely obtuse, because if you can’t figure it out, you probably don’t deserve the delicious food in the first place. Everything has to be more difficult, because he’s not there to hold your hand. And I’m sick of it.