Top Chef

Take the Voltaggio brothers of “Top Chef: Las Vegas” (10 p.m. Wednesdays on Bravo). These two self-assured but growly young men don’t take kindly to either flaccid flavor profiles or incendiary comments in the Glad Torture Chamber. It was obvious from the start of the sixth season that these snarling siblings had the chops to make it to the final three. What was less obvious was the extent to which they might let their clashing personalities and lifelong resentments and deeply competitive natures rise to the surface and engulf them in a stormy sea of unspoken contempt, sullen silences and occasional spitty outbursts.

Who knew that younger brother Michael would have such an amusing tendency to blow up at his far more reserved elder, Bryan, squawking, “Fuck you, Bryan!” and also, “I’ll take my time now, you fucking asshole,” and, my personal favorite, “Don’t be a dick”? That’s classic brotherspeak, a baseline instruction to watch your step lest you get popped in the face by a stray fist. And make no mistake about it, it has come to blows with these two before. Every time Bryan mumbles something condescending then averts Michael’s gaze, I can almost see a 10-year-old Bryan making some snide, superior comment in passing that turns a 7-year-old Michael bug-eyed with rage and sends him flying across the room, hands aimed at Bryan’s holier-than-thou neck, ready to choke the life out of the smug bastard.

All of which merely means that the Voltaggio brothers are actually brothers and not paid actors or talented chefs posing as brothers to make it onto the show. Still, it’s a testament to how completely Michael has dropped his guard that suddenly he’s freaking out while the cameras keep rolling.

Which brings us back to some of the possible reasons why arrogance lights up the small screen like nothing else. Whether or not they feel comfortable with the spotlight, whether or not they approve of broadcasting themselves for a nation’s idle amusement, the arrogant sooner or later come to adore the camera’s gaze in spite of themselves. At first, since they’re arrogant, they make pronouncements about how they’ll resist the pitfalls of fame and notoriety, how they’ll lead with their dignity, how they’ll bestride the pathetic shenanigans of their colleagues like great golden gods. Witness how recently Michael stated with great conviction, “Yelling and screaming, arrogance and things like that? There’s really no place for that in the kitchen.” And now? He yells and screams with reckless abandon.

But he can’t help it! His arrogance lies to him, telling him that even when he falls apart and stomps his feet like a bratty little tool, the camera loves him and embraces his every move. And let’s face it, the guy is pretty hot. He has angry bedroom eyes. He’s cocky. He cooks a mean pressed chicken with calamari noodles, tomato confit and fennel salad. If this guy isn’t neck-deep in fine women around the clock, there is no God.

It’s no wonder he gets under older brother Bryan’s skin. Bryan, who has appeared relatively peace-loving until last week’s episode, nonetheless has a disconcerting tendency to blow up at anyone who tries to make polite chitchat with him in the Glad Torture Chamber. State an opinion about which dish sucked the most, ask Bryan what he thought about how another cheftestant performed, speculate about who might be going home, and Bryan will bite your head clean off. He doesn’t want anyone gossiping about anyone else. His commitment to accuracy, to squelching the slightest whiff of gossip, is so complete, you’d think he was a highly decorated investigative reporter on a fact-checking mission, as opposed to, say, a reality show contestant. Sometimes, in fact, when Bryan says things like, “Did you taste that dish?” and “Were you there?” you almost want to say, Jesus, Bryan, give the postproduction editors a break, will you? What are they supposed to make a show out of? Shots of you, pursing your lips in silence? This is Bravo, dude.

But last week, after that little hotheaded pussy hound Michael won the elimination challenge plus $10,000, then uncharacteristically offered to share his money with his team, Bryan couldn’t restrain himself. He sat in the Glad Rage Pantry in silence until Michael couldn’t help  commenting on his obvious anger. Then Bryan quietly informed Michael that he could keep his share of the prize money. I don’t want your blood money, his eyes told Michael. It was like a scene out of “Jesus Christ Superstar,” only with higher stakes.

“I think the two dishes he executed were great, but he’ll admit he’s a bit of a control freak,” Bryan told the camera, sounding like a bit of a control freak, then adding, “And I’m tired of his unprofessional behavior being rewarded.” Aww! Big brother hates how little brother’s grandiosity and temper tantrums have landed him flashy prizes and loose women for decades now! It’s sooooo no fair!

But don’t judge Bryan. After all, don’t we all feel a little highhanded when we notice how grandiosity and temper tantrums are not only telegenic, professionally expedient and disconcertingly lucrative, but also sexy? Don’t we all feel a little threatened by the ways that pissy little braggarts and smug jerks get all the cash and the hot girls, while the rest of us sit on our hands, restating our principles and values as the camera crew races over to get more footage of the outspoken dick across the room — you know, the one who just happens to be our slightly-more-handsome little brother?

In short, the “Top Chef” producers’ decision to include siblings on the show who also happen to be celebrated professional chefs guaranteed to blow away the competition while fighting like enraged squirrels looks less like a crass manipulation and more like an act of sheer brilliance every day.

“You know, why don’t you keep the whole thing, if you’re so mad?” Michael sulkily asks his brother back in the Glad Seething Storeroom.

“I’m not mad at all. I’m very happy about this whole situation,” Bryan hisses through gritted teeth, the poster child for Passive-Aggressive Seething Glad-Wrapped in Gladness.

In a fitting denouement, wishy-washy Laurine is sent packing while explaining to the camera that on “Top Chef,” “I think I’ve learned something about myself, and uh, I don’t know that I want to be in a competition with anybody for anything, really.” Now we know why Laurine was always vaguely chafing on-screen: She’s humble, she hates the attention and she doesn’t like to compete.

We may understand how she feels, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t happy to see her go. Quivering worrywarts and jittery second-guessers? Stay home. We prefer eye-rolling braggarts and scoffing, swearing jerks on our screens instead, thank you very much.

Betty gets ugly

Now think of the ever-paradoxical Don Draper (Jon Hamm) of “Mad Men” (10 p.m. Sundays on AMC). He pretends to be reserved, principled, unflappable, consistently self-assured, but Don’s smooth, arrogant exterior barely conceals the roiling mess of insecurities and identity issues churning just under the surface. Don isn’t the uncomplicated hero and all-seeing prophet he claims to be at work and at home. He plays the part of the dependable family man but keeps a big pile of cash in his desk drawer in case he needs to skip town. He acts as a trustworthy mentor to Peggy (Elisabeth Moss), until the moment when she needs his guidance and, feeling pressured by his employment contract, he turns on her. He builds a friendship with Roger Sterling (John Slattery) until Roger has the bad taste to leave his marriage, and Don, who’s obviously envious, lashes out and calls Roger foolish instead of admitting the truth to Roger or himself.

Don’s arrogance — which like most arrogance is fueled by a vast array of insecurities that our arrogant hero refuses to acknowledge — prevents him from seeing himself or his world clearly. Instead of becoming the man he pretends to be, choosing to embrace his responsibilities as a good father and devoted husband, or even leaving Betty once and for all and settling down with the smart, lovable schoolteacher of his dreams, Don continues to pull one over on the world. In his initial brusque manner with the schoolteacher’s epileptic brother, we can see it clearly: Don wants no part of weakness. He can’t stand to play any role in some loser’s sob story. He can’t tolerate so much as considering this man’s plight in life, since it bears such a haunting resemblance to his own checkered past, and reminds him of his poor, dead brother, the one he refused to help or even acknowledge years prior.

Don tells himself he’s turning over a new leaf by slipping the brother some money and dropping him off in the woods instead of taking him to the job his sister lined up for him in Bedford. But really this is more of the same: Don playing fast and loose, thinking on his feet. Don uses his money as a replacement for genuine concern, just as he uses sex as a stand-in for real love and intimacy. His essential instinct for dishonesty is what keeps him from ever forging a real connection with the women in his life. He considers himself above them, ultimately, and he seems to feel that he’s licensed to make his own independent decisions about anything — the epileptic brother, Salvatore’s choice not to whore himself to a client and his subsequent dismissal, Peggy’s request for a promotion — even when the decisions aren’t really his to make.

But he can’t help it! His arrogance lies to him, telling him that he is the master of all he surveys. Even when he lies and cheats and slams doors like a bratty little tool, the camera loves him and embraces his every move. And let’s face it, the guy is pretty hot. He has an unforgiving, unflinching gaze. He’s cocky. He could write a catchy jingle for week-old bologna that would make housewives flock to the stores. If this guy weren’t neck-deep in horny schoolteachers around the clock, we’d know for certain that God is dead.

But Don will not be king for much longer. The times are changing. Betty has just discovered his little box of secrets, and now that she’s had a chance to stew over it, thanks to Don’s not coming home that night, she’s liable to keep her mouth shut while carefully planning a colorful and catastrophic exit. What kind of precipitous fall lies ahead for our dashing, overconfident hero Don Draper, or for those volatile, versatile Voltaggio brothers?

We can’t wait to find out. Because if there’s one thing that’s more dramatic and powerful than arrogance on TV, it’s watching the arrogant finally get trampled underfoot by their own barely concealed insecurities. 

First there was the unexpected tournament-style elimination last week, in which teams of two competed in breakfast, lunch and dinner rounds and the least successful team was brutally eliminated at the end (It’s hard to imagine Arnold “not just a Louis Vuitton bag” Myint leaving this early if not for his ill-fated pairing with eternally flustered Lynne). Then, on Wednesday night’s episode, the cheftestants were asked to prepare a meal together in a chilly cow pasture. Tempers flared, meat cooking times were second-guessed, alpha males clashed, and a bowl of cauliflower tumbled into the tall grass below.

At judges’ table, none of the judges held back on their true feelings about the worst dishes. Tom Colicchio fired off his usual deadpan gripes about lackluster flavors and foolhardy choices. Padma Lakshmi matter-of-factly declared several dishes inadequate. Hell, even the usually sunny and forgiving Eric Ripert scoffed at the worst dishes like they weren’t fit to touch his plump French lips. The previously cocky Amanda got called “amateurish.” Steven’s salad was scolded as “overthought and overdressed.” But it was the eminently likable Timothy’s bland turnips and overall shaky performances that underwhelmed the judges the most, and he was sent packing.

Although some readers have argued over the years that “Top Chef” doesn’t work because viewers at home can’t taste the dishes along with the judges, this might actually represent what works about the show. Thanks to our inability to taste, the descriptions and the personalities and the track records of the cheftestants add up to something better: a guessing game. A few episodes into the season, it’s hard not to find yourself wagering on which risks will pay off and which won’t. When the outspoken but able Kelly started to throw together a bonus-round strawberry rhubarb dessert on Wednesday night, it might’ve been the kiss of death for another competitor on another season, but Kelly’s choices have generally been pretty sound, so we suspected that she’d hit it out of the park – and she did end up in the top four.

And while it’s often easy to tell which three or four cheftestants will make it to the end by the second or third episode (last season, you could’ve put money on one of the Voltaggio brothers winning after the first ten minutes of the first episode), it’s still entertaining to see which of the favorites will win each week. This season, the Kenny “The Beast” vs. Angelo “The Bitch” showdown has proven to be endlessly entertaining, whether the two men are embracing utterly different strategies in the Quickfire Challenge or openly yelling at each other when forced to collaborate in the Elimination.

Angelo presents an obvious villain – albeit one with a little less flair than, say, Hung Huynh, the ultra-confident winner of season three. But what Angelo loses in style points, he makes up for in sheer unpredictability. Having admitted that he has a little thing for Tamesha, a young chef from Barbados, Angelo proceeds to describe her cherry compote as “really tart and luscious — I mean it’s just super sexy.” Got it. But nothing is sexier than what Angelo is doing with his duck. “I’m working on the duck, I butchered it perfectly, I marinated it, I rendered out the fat, I let it rest, I cooked it more. I basically made love to that duck, to be honest with you.”

Sure, we feel a little sorry for the duck – but you have to love a show that brings out this kind of freakishly passionate streak in a person. It’s no wonder love is in the air. Not only is Angelo following Tamesha around and whispering in her ear, but the formerly obnoxious Ed, who doesn’t hold back in outlining the bad choices of his competitors, is now swooning over Tiffany, a pretty Texan with great laugh.

Budding romance, temperamental outbursts, ruthless judges, bestiality – what more could you ask for in one show? Unlike some of their competitors, the producers of “Top Chef” have made all the right choices over the years, maintaining the elements of the show that we depend on (Judges Colicchio, Lakshmi and Gail Simmons are never far from the action; the Restaurant Wars episode is always one of the best) while mixing things up to keep the stakes high (luring in truly respected chefs to judge competitions, dishing up increasingly difficult and brutal challenges). Throw in a skilled but also wildly emotional cast of characters this season, and you’ve got a truly satisfying flavor profile.

On the other hand, maybe chefs are just the kinds of people who belong in front of the camera: They’re passionate, they’re hotheaded, they drink a lot, and they live or die over the acid balance of a little plate of fish. You might not want to work for them (or, if you’re a duck, go within a few square miles of them), but they’re endlessly entertaining to watch on TV.

In contrast, the celebrity chefs on the “Top Chef Masters” finale Wednesday night were held to such a ridiculously high standard that it was almost too much to bear. Super chefs Rick Moonen, Marcus Samuelson and Susur Lee all prepared dishes that made the judges and guest judges gasp and gush and sigh deeply over their marvelous textures and flavors.

Of course, the stakes have been sky high all season: When that finicky Saveur editor James Oseland or skeptical Jay Rayner or passionate food fetishist Gail Simmons weigh in, it’s hard not to squirm along with the cheftastic heavyweights on the chopping block. And thrillingly enough, these chefs often don’t agree with the judges’ assessments – but they purse their lips and tolerate Oseland’s sniffing and Rayner’s grumbling and Simmons’ finger-licking and host Kelly Choi’s terrible outfits. They’re restrained that way.

In fact, the one thing that I find disappointing about the professional chefs on “Top Chef Masters” is their unflagging professionalism. Sure, this is an elaborate publicity/charity event for Susur, Rick and Marcus, just one part of a multi-tiered marketing strategy that involves a restaurant (or two), a cookbook, maybe a speaking tour after this, and God knows what else. These men are food artistes, sure, but they’re also figureheads promoting their personal brands. They have to stay cool.

But most of us would prefer to see them losing their heads occasionally, “Real Housewives”-style. Perhaps this is what made the second season finale of “Top Chef Masters” so particularly delightful, and what has made the previous two episodes so satisfying as well. Instead of remaining calm as Persian cucumbers going into the home stretch, Susur, Rick and Marcus begin to look a little shaken. They seem to forget about their empires back home and what this win will mean for their favorite charities. Instead, their egos get wrapped up in the game.

A few minutes into the finale, Marcus raves that winning would mean having “bragging rights forever.” Susur says that “being a chef is like being a Ninja. Your mind has to be very strong.” Rick says his friends have been giving him hell about his elimination last season, so he wants to redeem himself, but he also wants money for his charity. Rick is a talker. Most of all, he says, he doesn’t want to let anyone down.

“I think my biggest competition is Susur,” Rick admits. “He’s an enigma. He is so confident that he emits an intimidation. He doesn’t have any doubt, any hesitation whatsoever in what he does. Once you’re in that state of mind, you’re unstoppable. I predict that it’s going to come down to Susur and me.”

Let’s see what the judges and guest diners have to say about that. Apparently the regular judges will be joined by Tom Colicchio, plus the three finalists from last season, Hubert Keller, Rick Bayless, Michael Chiarello.

Here’s the challenge: The first course is a dish “inspired by your first food memory.” The second course is a dish “inspired by the experience that made you decide to become a chef.” The third course “describes you as a chef.”

“It’s a very emotional thing. Three plates gotta tell my story,” says Susur. “It’s pretty heavy.” He then explains that his first wife died when the Korean Air Lines Flight 007 was shot down over Russian airspace. See how throwing in a little emotional backstory works? Now I want Susur to win.

Next, Marcus sees Rick trimming some dark red meat and asks, jokingly, “What fish is that? The venison, the holy fish of the forest?” See how humor works? Now I want Marcus to win.

Rick says he’s very anal, and he’s annoyed by Susur’s gigantic sloppy messes in the kitchen. “There’s an accident looking for a place to happen,” says Rick. “Now you’re making me pissed off now,” replies Susur, so pissed off that he’s repeating himself. But Rick’s right. Susur is too messy. I want Rick to win.

Once the cooking comes into play, I’m even more confused. The judges and guest diners love the first courses across the board, but particularly love Marcus’s. “I don’t think the execution is quite there,” Rayner says of Rick’s second course, and they’re also underwhelmed by Susur’s second, but they love Marcus’s again. Third course, Rick Bayless is blown away by Susur’s Lamb Thailandaise with Chiang Mai sausage, saying “It’s sooo good.”

“This is going to be a very difficult one to call,” says Bayless.

Back at the “Top Chef Masters” table, the three finalists are having a beer together. Rick Moonen is feeling expansive, as he often does. “There are no losers here, really,” he says.

This is lost on Susur, who replies, “Well, there will be two, right?” Rick just stares at him blankly.

Now it’s time for the three finalists to appear before the judges. Gail Simmons says that she could eat nothing but Susur’s black bean sauce for the rest of her life, that’s how good it is. She’d like to be covered in a thin film of Susur’s black bean sauce at all times. She wouldn’t mind taking a swim in Susur’s black bean sauce, and rubbing it into her scalp would just feel right. She demonstrates, rubbing some black bean sauce into her scalp.

Well, OK, all she really says is that the black bean sauce was “so sweet” and “the texture was beautiful.” But we know what she means.

The judges in general have some problems with Rick’s second course, and with Susur’s. Gail Simmons says that Marcus’s flan blew her away. James Oseland is actually grinning, about the food, which is a little unnerving. There aren’t a lot of flaws to evaluate. Maybe they should rub each course all over their bodies to see how it feels.

“And now it’s out of our hands,” says Rick once the chefs are safely back around their special round table. Each chef takes a big glass of red wine and chugs it with a speed that suggests that they’ve been prohibited from drinking heavily up until now. 

Jay Rayner says Rick’s oyster was the best oyster he ever had. The judges agree that Susur’s meal’s “highs were exceptionally high.” Gail says Susur reinvented tastes. Rayner says Marcus’s foie gras flan was an “extraordinary, extraordinary thing.” Rayner is moved by Marcus’s story, but Oseland does not appear quite as moved by Marcus’s last dish. Basically, each of the chefs presented one dish that was problematic, and everything else was spectacular. It’s tough to even guess who might come out on top.

Somehow, a decision is reached, and the chefs are called into the room. Susur gets 17 stars, which is impressive. Incredibly enough, Marcus gets 17 ½ stars, with Simmons and Raynor each favoring him, and Oseland not.

Susur is out, and looks pretty crushed. It’s down to Marcus and Rick.

Oseland says that Rick has “raised the bar on cooo-linary mastery.” And then he asks Rick, “Can I marry you?” Oseland, who really does seem to want to have a million of Rick’s babies, gives Rick five stars. But the diners give Rick four stars. Marcus wins by half a star! What a finish! (Now it’s Rick’s turn to look crushed.)

“People all over the world will celebrate this with me. I guarantee you that,” says Marcus. Who knew that a win for Marcus would mean worldwide celebration? Now I wish Rick had won.

But to be fair, the final competition was so tight that any one of these three chefs really could’ve taken home the title of “Top Chef Master.” They made it through an insanely stressful series of challenges, and they did it without insulting each other ruthlessly, attacking each other with their bare hands, or bringing shame on their families. They cooked great food and they remained professional to the very end. There are no losers here tonight!

(Well, there are two, actually. Rick and Susur. Sorry, guys!)