The Emerilization of the world

Each year, the Mall in Washington plays host to the Smithsonian Folklife Festival. The Folklife Festival typically shines its benevolent paternalism on cultures of countries that are: 1) established tourist spots for wealthy Americans; 2) emerging tourist spots for wealthy Americans; or 3) formerly war-torn regions on the verge of becoming emerging tourist spots for wealthy Americans. If the organizers take on America, they walk a fine line between turning it into a cultural freakshow by trotting out people from the stereotypically poorest and historically most forsaken regions of the country (Appalachia and the Mississippi Delta) and calling attention to areas that need it. But this year, they dropped the charade and conjured up Food Culture USA -- gastro-tourism for wealthy Americans.

I stopped by on Saturday and camped out in the "Beyond the Melting Pot" tent for the cooking demonstrations. Let me preface this by saying that I love watching cooking demonstrations -- and not for the free food that often follows them. You can surf the aisles at Costco for that. No, I love watching cooking demonstrations because I pick up a wealth of techniques by watching the chefs do their thing.

First up was Steven Raichlen -- barbecue guru, Baltimore boy, and Barry Gibb lookalike. I watch his show, Barbecue University, virtually every Saturday morning and I don't even own a grill. Although some of his techniques necessarily apply only to outdoor grilling (e.g. building a three-tier fire with your charcoals), you can easily apply others to your work indoors (e.g. what is the thickness at which you should cover a steak?). In 45 minutes, he put together grilled shrimp on sugar cane skewers, grilled chicken with a tomato-based marinade, and grilled peaches with mint leaves. His dexterity isn't surprising when one considers that he once defeated an Iron Chef in a barbecue battle on the original Japanese television show.

What was alarming was the audience's reaction to his adding butter and spices. "I'm going to add a little more butter here," he remarked in making his "B-3" glaze for the peaches. The audience let out some whoops and "Yeahs" to indicate their approval of his adding more of a "bad" ingredient. And this is Emeril Lagasse's fault.

He's rightly considered the grandfather of the modern-day cooking show (he took the baton from Julia Child and ran with it) because he ushered in this notion of watching cooking as entertainment. Without Emeril, Iron Chef simply isn't popular in America. And I thank Emeril for that -- and for his outstanding food, which I've had twice in Orlando.

But what bothers me is the effect Emeril's show has had on the work of other chefs who perform in public. Raichlen wasn't adding butter to get a crowd response. He was adding butter because, well, things taste better with butter. But the audience's Pavlovian reaction was to hoot and holler. Which then shows the chef that he is a pretender to Emeril's throne.

Even worse, I was watching the pizza episode of NapaStyle with Michael Chiarello (the former chef at Napa Valley's Tra Vigne). NapaStyle stands alone as a cooking show that focuses on techniques rather than recipes. Chiarello had brought his his daughter Giana and her friends to help him make some pies. Chiarello asked one kid whether he wanted to add some more pepperoni. And the kid did so -- with a "Bam!" Yelling the competition's catch phrase in your host's house! Chiarello sheepishly shook it off, and the kid was just a kid. But you know that Emeril was doubled over in laughter at home.

When Emeril arrives at the Folklife Festival at the Mall, the audience will have found its muse. Until then, don't say "Bam."