Next to sports, the topic that gets my most passionate attention is food. As a self-proclaimed “foodie,” being a Zagat reviewer remains high on my fantasy job list. For now, my interest in all things culinary manifests itself in the Food Network being my consistent jump channel if not a primary destination (particularly during these February doldrums).
So, similar to the way one might chastise the sports commentating merits of say an Emmitt Smith, I can’t help but occasionally pontificate on the merits (or lack thereof) of various “special guests” appearing on the Food Network and its shows.
Last night provided such an opportunity as my worlds of sports and food collided in an absolute train wreck: Keyshawn Johnson’s appearance as an esteemed judge on Iron Chef America. This was an embarrasment to the culinary cathedral that is kitchen stadium. Key’s food chops? He owns 12 restaurants across the country. Apparently, that’s all it takes.
As Battle Alaska King Crab came to a close last night, challenger Amanda Freitag and Iron Chef Bobby Flay showcased the fruits of their labor to the judging panel that included Mr. Johnson. Let’s just say his insightful commentary on the food put before him made his ramblings on NFL Countdown seem articulate, informed — clairvoyant.
After tasting the first dish from the challenger, Key deemed it “his favorite so far.” Wise words from a culinary genius. He went on to share his views on various creations such as noting a dish was “a winner” and how he thought the avocado mousse “looked mushy” but it tasted good.
The performance was staggeringly bad, really quite painful to watch. Think Isiah Thomas press conference where those in the viewing audience are compelled to shake their head in dumbstruck horror.
Jeffrey Steingarten, rest assured your job as a regular ICA judge is quite safe. Food Network, you on the other hand, should be ashamed of yourselves.
Filed Under: Uncategorized
About the Author: Cecilio's Scribe is the founder of The Legend of Cecilio Guante and a generally pessimistic fan of the Mets, Jets, Knicks and Rangers. A fine NYC-based gentlemen who hones his marketing skills as his primary trade by day. Husband, chef, father of a newborn and after-hours blogger by night. Proud alum of the mighty Big Red of Cornell. University. Hot sauce devotee. Staunch protester of the continued wussifcation of American sports. Sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I rhyme quick.