"michael symon" news and stories

We knew going in that this would be interesting. Venerable New York restaurateur Ed Brown versus Iron Chef Michael Symon: Upper West Side refinement squaring off against brazen Midwestern dude-ness. Even the secret ingredient, wahoo, didn't seem to favor one chef over the other, as they sometimes do. This was anyone's game.

The contrasts were clear from the start. Brown and his white-aproned team were all about precise, almost clinical, technique: Using a smoker gun to infuse the fish with flavor, cooking in duck fat, relying on exotic fish accoutrements like geoduck and shaved bonito.

Symon being Symon, had his team of laid-back, tatted-up sous chefs march out in their traditional, black "mechanic's shirt" uniforms (always the Ohioan, that Symon) and quickly set to work grilling the hell out of everything: lemons, apple chips, grapefruit, tomatoes, bread.

Iron Chef and Cleveland native Michael Symon, who almost single-handedly put the city back on the culinary map with the opening of his first restaurant there (Lola) in 1997, is hoping that the old adage proves true: the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

The object of Symon's (and, these days, most other Clevelander's) affections is NBA superstar LeBron James, who this summer is up for free agency. Rampant speculation has the two-time MVP landing anywhere from the New York Knicks to the Los Angeles Clippers-or staying put with the Cleveland Cavaliers.

On Tuesday, Symon posted a heartfelt (some might say gushing; others desperate) open letter to James on his Facebook page. "I first off would like to thank you for what you have done for the fine city of Cleveland," the letter begins. "You have created a energy downtown that has not been seen in years and have allowed businesses to thrive beyond their wildest dreams."

More after the jump.

John Fraser had us fooled this week on Iron Chef America. To look at him -- brown hair neatly parted, boy-next-door face, apple-cheeked complexion -- he didn't seem that threatening. Everything about his appearance screams, "I gave up becoming a doctor to fry scallops," a fact we were reminded of countless times by host Alton Brown.

Don't get us wrong, Fraser's reputation precedes him: Rising-star awards, a New York Times three-star review for his restaurant Dovetail, incessant appearances on talk shows -- this is a guy who has "Future Iron Chef" written all over him.

But next to the streamlined, chrome-domed, tattoo-chested, "hey bro"-spouting defending champ Michael Symon, we were sure he'd be toast. And then a funny thing happened. After the unveiling of the secret ingredient (cauliflower!), Fraser had his own surprise: He'd be letting his flavors speak for themselves, he announced, without the help of sous chefs.

Food tattoos were on display at the Cooking Channel launch party, the Food Network spinoff set to begin airing Memorial Day.

Chuck Hughes, a Montreal chef who network executives are touting as the next big thing, attended the party at the rooftop bar of the Empire Hotel in Manhattan along with a bevy of hosts from new shows on the Cooking Channel.

The hammy Mr. Hughes, host of "Chuck's Day Off," displayed his inkwork for a photographer: On the inside of his left bicep is a mermaid, her nakedness barely covered with two small shells. On his left forearm is a giant shrimp. Inside his right bicep is a pomegranate. He then he rolled up his sleeve to show a heart with the word "Oysters" and a pearl over it.

Chuck said he has been unable to get much fresh ink in the past few years because the producers of his show have said it would make for continuity problems, confusing viewers if on a new show he has more body art than on a rerun. But now that his show has run for three seasons in Canada already, the producers are easing up.

We knew going into this week's Iron Chef that we'd have fun. The only question was how much fun. Ace of Cakes professional goofball Duff Goldman as a competitor? Chocolate and chiles as the secret ingredients? Who needs the Super Bowl?!

Sure, it may have been a little brazen of the Food Network to slot one of their own superstars opposite the easygoing (and similarly cue-ball domed, chin-scruffed) reigning chef, Michael Symon. But, hey -- if you want to lure viewers away from one of the most-watched events of the year, you've got to bring out the big guns, right?

They didn't stop there: Not only did Duff get his own cheering section -- his Charm City colleagues and a bunch of screaming ladies -- he also got a super-celeb judging panel. The whole evening, in fact, seemed to be designed for the 25-to-40-year-old female demographic who, if we may be so bold, probably wasn't bothering with the macho-testosterone play-by-play over on CBS. Call it the "Women Who Appreciate Fine Dining and the Bald Lunkheads Who Love Them" hour.