I’ve gotta say that I enjoyed last night’s Next Iron Chef finale as much as I’ve ever enjoyed any episode of Iron Chef America and rivaled the excitement of any Top Chef finale, as much as I think that is the protoype of competitive cooking television. Even my girlfriend, who had never watched a single episode of the Next Iron Chef miniseries, was on pins and needles as Chef John Besh raced to finish his swordfish-inspired brik pasty dessert, as jokingly requested by Iron Chef Masahuru Morimoto with seconds remaining on the clock. It was gold, Jerry, gold!

The show and the series was really good and for me, has heightened my interest in watching Iron Chef America, having now gotten to know one of the Chefs over the course of seven weeks. One of the best moments for me was the unveiling of winner Michael Symon’s Chairman Mao sized portrait on the wall of Kitchen Stadium. There was something triumphant about that moment, as much as I think the show’s drama is trite and completely contrived.

I think the judges, in this case Morimoto, Bobby Flay and Cat Cora, really got this one right. Besh was, without a doubt, consistent throughout the competition but I thought he relied a little too much on his style, which he defined last night as a contemporary french with a definite Louisiana influence. Kitchen Stadium only has room for one one-trick pony and Bobby Flay doesn’t plan on going back to Mesa Grille anytime soon. Simply put, it appeared that when Symon was at his best, he was a knotch above Besh.

The real telling sign for me last night was that Symon, famous for his love of pork and his Mediterranean-influenced food, pretty much steered clear of pig and had only a couple traces of his greek roots. It showed a versatility, a daring and growth.

I hope that Food Network decides to do this again at one point. I’m not sure how much of a turnover they can possibly have amongst the Iron Chefs but the show and it’s abbreviated format were a well-received respite from a Top Chef-less world.

As a sidenote, was anyone downright horrified by the prospect of a Marc Ecko-designed chef’s jacket. I’m expecting some ghastly hip-hop inspired mess, maybe some graffiti or Pollock-esque paint spatterings. Here’s hoping I’m wrong.

Apparently there was some sniping between the judges over voting, Michael Ruhlman has more on his blog.

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