"rick moonen" news and stories

According to the Chinese, who have for millennia eaten black chicken (which in China is called wu gu ji, or black-boned chicken), putting the dark poultry into a stew or soup may be just the thing to cure a cold,cramps, or a headache. Some people have called it an anti-oxidant powerhouse -- a true superfood. But don't look for Silkies at your local Piggly Wiggly market. Urban Asian markets are where you'll find these midnight-colored chickens, but it's worth the search. As a very wise man once said, black is beautiful.

Somehow, we remember last year's "have your recipe turned into a Swanson frozen meal" episode being much more... mirthful. Back then, we were cheering for the jovial, bacon-loving leprechaun Kevin Gillespie, and entertained by the dueling (if far less lovable) Brothers Voltaggio.

This year, with the exception of the irrepressible Tiffany -- who, incidentally, didn't get much face time this episode, unless you count the prank where Ed woke up wearing her dress -- there wasn't much mirth and merriment. In fact, it was pretty much 60 minutes of bitching. By the time it was all over, we even forgot someone won the right to be enshrined in deep-freeze cardboard for an eternity.

What happened? Even the elimination challenge of running a baseball concession stand didn't do much to enliven things. Instead, we watched Angelo repeat his Tony Robbins self-empowerment mantras to himself -- really! -- as he tried to weasel his way out of taking orders at the stand, a role he volunteered to play.

Despite being edged out by a measly half star, Toronto's Susur Lee and Las Vegas based chef Rick Moonen clearly brought their "A game" throughout the entire second season of Top Chef Masters. Lee served up gorgeous plates of Asian fusion with a classical twist, and Moonen utilized his knowledge of seafood as the foundation for whatever challenges the show presented.

On the season finale, the chefs were asked to cook their life stories -- Lee, following his origins with his father in Hong Kong and Moonen returning to his Queens, New York, roots. Lee's final plate was an artistic display of lamb thailandaise with chang mai sausage; Moonen went with venison, an attempt to persuade the judges to rethink him as just a chef who sleeps with the fishes.

Any of the final three could have won -- and while Lee and Moonen fell short of the prize, they provided season two with more humor than any of the other contestants -- something they'll surely be remembered for, going forward.

Slashfood caught up with Lee and Moonen about the final challenge, how Top Chef Masters helps their career and whether the judges got things right.

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?

To be totally honest, we had trouble tuning in to Top Chef Masters last night. Not that we aren't in awe of the "four dudes left," to quote our favorite comfort-food teddy bear, Jonathan Waxman.

It's just that they're, well, all dudes -- our favorite non-dude, Susan Feniger, was banished last week, back to the confines of her delightful L.A. eatery Street. What would the kitchen be like without her cackle!? Where would the competition be without her somewhat goofy and laser-sharp stare?

Add to that the fact that the inimitable Gael Greene was sitting out the judging this time, and the episode was certainly lacking in double-chromosome jubilation. "Burnt sienna, depression, avocado" wasn't just an improvised name of a dish; it could've been the theme of the evening.