Culinary Class Wars Revolutionizes the Cooking Show

As a seasoned film and food enthusiast with a penchant for unconventional storytelling, I find “Culinary Class Wars” to be a refreshing shake-up of the stale cooking competition genre. The series’ political framing may be a gimmick, but it’s one that effectively upends expectations and keeps viewers on their toes.


Spoilers follow for the first ten episodes of Netflix series Culinary Class Wars, which premieres its final two episodes Tuesday, October 8. 

In the context of “Culinary Class Wars”, the class struggle element is somewhat exaggerated. This South Korean show blends elements from “The Menu” (social hierarchy tension) and “Squid Game” (shifting alliances unpredictability) into its cooking competition format, but it’s not a series concerned with ideology or action. There are no culinary tools that resemble guillotines, and unfortunately, a worker-led revolution does not take place as depicted in some reality shows. Instead, like many reality series, “Culinary Class Wars” revolves around individual achievement, using political themes merely for dramatic effect. However, despite its lack of commitment to social commentary, it’s still entertaining because it successfully rejuvenates a tired genre.

This competition initiates by contrasting 20 “White Utensils” (distinguished chefs associated with or based in South Korea) against 80 “Black Utensils” (professionals from various backgrounds such as school lunch workers, fast food restaurant owners, and YouTube personalities). The White Utensils are recognized by their real names, reflecting the recognition they’ve earned through years of industry service. On the other hand, the Black Utensils can only be identified by the nicknames they’ve chosen for themselves, such as Napoli Matfia (a specialist in Italian cuisine), Goddess of Chinese Cuisine (self-explanatory), and Comic Book Chef (specializing in dishes from comic books). As the series begins, the White Utensils are raised on a platform higher than the Black Utensils, symbolizing the social hierarchy. An unseen host, reminiscent of the Wizard of Oz, explains that the Black Utensils are striving for the same level of acclaim. Only those Black Utensils who reach the final round of competition will transition from being “anonymous hopefuls” to revealing their true identities by disclosing their real names.

In one corner of the kitchen, a member of the Black Spoons team remarks, “I could tell something like this would happen,” as there’s a hint of bruised egos among his fellow team members. However, surprisingly, the premise of the show Culinary Class Wars begins to unravel swiftly because several competitors are well-acquainted with each other. The Black Spoons often recognize one another’s restaurants or repute and exchange warm greetings upon their arrival. Additionally, numerous White Spoons have previously mentored or employed Black Spoons, and by the second episode, they are seen cheering them on by name. Throughout the series, names are mistaken, reducing the tension each time, but there are also dramatic moments that play out well on television. For example, Judge Anh Sung-jae initially fails to recognize or remember former employee One Two Three, a member of the Black Spoons who candidly discussed his intimidation while working under the chef during an interview.

In contrast to shows like “Chef’s Table” that delve deeply into the lives of chefs, this series is more casual and light-hearted. Unlike cooking competitions such as “Chopped”, it features fewer contestant backstories that are typically used for dramatic effect. On shows like “Throwdown! With Bobby Flay” and “Beat Bobby Flay”, Bobby Flay usually emerges victorious in challenges involving his competitors’ signature dishes. This show, “Culinary Class Wars”, introduces blind tasting to prevent favoritism towards well-known chefs. Former “Top Chef” contestant Edward Lee is participating here, but the judges, Anh and Paik Jong-won, provide more open assessments than Tom Colicchio ever has. The episodes don’t follow a conventional three-act structure; instead, they keep viewers engaged with climactic moments occurring earlier than usual, sometimes even serving as cliffhangers. “Culinary Class Wars” doesn’t tolerate complacency, whether from the chefs it pushes to their limits or from viewers. The show frequently changes direction, altering the kitchen layout, team structure, or challenge rules to keep things interesting.

Similar to the South Korean competition series Physical: 100, the success of Culinary Class Wars can be attributed to its ingenious challenge design and impressive production values, particularly when they complement each other. For instance, to narrow down 80 Black Spoon contestants to just 20, they are all moved into a large cooking area where each must prepare their signature dish at individual stations while White Spoons observe from a balcony surrounding the room. Later, in a head-to-head showdown between Black and White Spoons using a specific ingredient, both teams wheel their dishes into a rough-hewn room, with judges seated like mystical creatures in a cave, waiting to be lured out by special delicacies.

In the world of Culinary Class Wars, surprises abound as the massive workshop is divided by concealed doors and secret spaces, revealing fresh pantry areas or unexpected guest judges who can veto Anh and Paik’s decisions about contestant eliminations. The departures of both Black and White Spoon competitors, who appeared to be strong contenders, are handled without sentimentality; there are no heartfelt farewell montages. To offer some clarity amidst the series’ impromptu choices, the judges’ handwritten notes for dishes are enlarged and displayed onscreen, giving us a glimpse into their immediate thoughts on taste and technique, thereby shedding light on the competitors’ abilities. Unlike other cooking shows that adhere strictly to their structured narratives, Culinary Class Wars infuses its episodes with small details that challenge the boundaries between haute cuisine and street food. A scene where Anh ponders if his response to a dish is influenced by nostalgia and asks Paik to taste serves as an intriguing provocation, highlighting the judges’ subjectivity and encouraging viewers to question their own perceptions.

As a passionate movie buff revisiting a cinematic kitchen, I’ve noticed an unexpected plot twist unfolding. The power dynamics in the kitchen, heavily leaning towards the White Spoons, have undergone a dramatic shift. As we delve deeper into the season, both White and Black Spoons share the same culinary stage. The camera angles change significantly, offering a near-vertical, amphitheater-like perspective on the chefs during team challenges. In restaurant challenges, the judges are strategically placed above all remaining competitors, adding an extra layer of tension. As the competition narrows, each chef must navigate a long path to present their dishes to Paik and Anh, submitting themselves for evaluation. Although the series preserves a hierarchical structure, it’s not the same as other cooking shows where judges hold ultimate power from above. In Culinary Class Wars, every contestant, whether named or unnamed, is subjected to the unpredictable twists and turns of a format that thrives on defying expectations. The true revolution isn’t found in its characters, but in its audaciousness to challenge the conventional food-TV norms.

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2024-10-08 02:54