Insane Flavors and a Proposal - The 'Top Chef Masters 2' Finale

Where did the time go? It seems like just yesterday (translation: April) that we welcomed nearly two dozen of the nation's best chefs into our living rooms for their weekly hazing on Top Chef Masters. Most were excised in the cruel, quick early rounds, but those who stayed -- and those who judged them -- left us with burning questions that we fear will never be answered.

For instance: Would sustainable seafood guru Rick Moonen prove, on the basis of appearance and first name if nothing else, to be this year's underdog champ, a la Rick Bayless in 2009? Would Susur Lee's unbridled, crazy genius make him a lock or handicap him? Would the professional egotist Marcus Samuelsson give up the arrogant schtick, or is it genuine? And just how many pairs of plaid trousers does he own?

And what of the judges? What happened to our favorite grand dame, Gael Greene, anyway? Did she take her hat collection and open up a millinery? Why does Jay Rayner have that permanently downturned smirk? Is it hereditary, or does he practice it in the mirror? And why, dear god, why, does James Oseland have a fishy crush on Rick?
Alas, most of these questions continue to plague us, even after seeing the finale. And yet, we're left with a strange feeling of satisfaction now that it's all over. The first Masters was one of the highlights of last year's glut of foodie boob-tube programming, and this year was even better: More tension, more competition, more laughs. If last year most of the chefs were plagued by a "what is this thing, anyway, and does it even matter?" attitude, this year, they were all taking it very seriously.

So when the three finalists each presented three-course meals that represented their histories of becoming a chef, you can bet they gave it their all. We were treated to tales of Ethiopia and Sweden from Samuelsson, which translated into three complex, palate-challenging dishes: Smoked arctic char with root veggies; cured duck that found its way to the plate with a geometric smear of tomato jam and a perfect little accompaniment of foie gras ganache; and, most controversially, a tartare that was encapsulated by a giant ball of hamachi.

That flaky fish and the surprising consistency of its innards -- topped off by sea urchin broth -- delighted some, baffled others, and delighted and baffled at least two judges, Gail Simmons and special guest Bayless, both of whom chalked up their confusion to their "Western palates."

Promisingly, Moonen stuck to the backyards of his New York upbringing, where he described a neighbor's dish of bacon, eggs and mushrooms as being the most exotic thing his pubescent palate had tasted up until that point. This meant he just had to serve up some pork belly, poached eggs and truffles, a deceptively simple dish that he didn't exactly hit out of the park. Luckily, his first course was perhaps the "most perfect" glazed oyster the judges ever experienced, and his last was a revelation, something outside of his wheelhouse: Venison with an "insane" pear butter.

Never one to let a new direction go unchallenged, Rayner asked from the judges table what the ethics of Australian-sourced venison meant to a chef so committed to sustainable seafood. In a line sure to direct him many angry letters from various heart-on-sleeve causes, Moonen replied, "I'm not a tree hugger, I'm a chef!"

For Lee, his origin story was pan-Asian discovery, usually facilitated by vacations with wives both past and present. For a man raised on dim sum, this meant a giant, Japanese tuna purse and Thai lamb. Of course, it tasted good. But it was his presentation that wowed the crowd. Every plate that came out was so artful -- "so punk rock," to quote the effusive Oseland -- that we wondered if it didn't overshadow his flavors. (Was it just us, or did that tuna purse with spikes look unnervingly like Pinhead's head in the Hellraiser movies?)

Those looking for an easy theme to the judging -- as we had last year with Bayless's victory signaling a respect for Mexican cooking -- would have to look elsewhere. Ultimately, Samuelsson's "challenging" flavors pulled ahead and assured him the title of "Master." But all three chefs scored within a half-point of each other, indicating that the strongest message from the judges was, "We love you all!"

Sure, it was a win for young, brash chefs like Samuelsson everywhere. But to us, the real winner was Moonen, who not only got within a half-point of the victory he so badly wanted, he also got a proposal: From, um, Oseland. So intoxicated by that "dreamy" oyster of his, the normally uptight arbiter of taste proudly awarded him five stars and asked, "Can I marry you?!"

Moonen was embarrassed. We didn't notice if Oseland's tongue was firmly in-cheek. But we did notice he was salivating, providing a perfectly over-the-top ending to an orgasmic second season.