Talking with My Mouth Full (24 page)

Jacques’s argument, which we came to see as true, was that providing the chefs with a foundation of recipes would allow for a greatly expanded repertoire of desserts on the show and many more creative flourishes. But by the time we realized this, it was mid-season, and too late to change our no-recipe policy. All things considered, it’s astounding how many fantastic dishes our chefs composed under such huge limitations.

We were all learning together. I, for one, became so much more conscious of texture, temperature, and what a huge role they play in the dessert experience, more so in some ways than in savory cooking. You want smoothness in your whipped cream and chewiness or a crispy crunch in your chocolate chip cookie. You want your popsicles to be ice cold and your gooey chocolate sauce to be warm. It changes how you perceive the dish entirely.

The responsibility of being the show’s host was another big challenge. I’m a quick study. I had a basic understanding of what it entailed, having watched other people do it from my seat at Judges’ Table for so many years. But until I did it myself, I never quite fathomed the scope of the job.

Padma tried to prepare me. The month before I left to shoot the show, Padma was toward the end of her pregnancy. I would bring her lunch, whatever she craved, and we would sit on her bed while she gave me hosting advice. “The hours are the most challenging thing,” she explained. “Hosting the show takes twice as many days and hours as judging.”

We shot the first season in Los Angeles, in exactly thirty-four days. During that time I had a whopping two days off, plus a fast and furious seventy-two-hour break in which I had to fly to Miami to host a dinner honoring Daniel Boulud at the South Beach
Wine & Food
festival, then to Chicago to host a charity gala for Chef Art Smith’s Common Threads foundation.

As with
Top Chef
, workdays were usually twelve to fourteen hours, but often longer. Some days we started at 11 a.m. and went until three in the morning. The next day I might start at eight or nine and go until 9 p.m. The following day, we’d start at 6 a.m. Sometimes I had less than eight hours between shoot days. I quickly understood just what Padma had meant.

What’s more, the host has to keep the plot moving forward and serve as a go-between for the chefs and the judges. You have to moderate the conversation, making sure each judge gets the chance to express an opinion, and ask the appropriate questions to ensure everyone has all the information needed to make an informed decision. You’re like an umpire. And when someone is eliminated, you’re the one delivering the bad news.

The host also has to handle all the business. It’s not like I made up those challenges on the spot. (I didn’t invent the Dawn Hand Renewal challenge!) I had to memorize challenge guidelines that, for legal reasons, I had to deliver in a specific way. I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t sound natural those first few days. The first time I had to say, “Your dessert just didn’t measure up. Please pack your tools and go,” I felt terribly awkward. I tried to be empathetic but also say it with conviction.

My producer asked me to stay late to work on my delivery and to figure out exactly how we wanted it to sound. I said it maybe fifty times, until the words didn’t mean anything anymore. Finally, we got the line close enough to sounding like something a real person would say, and I went back to my apartment, with a heightened respect for Padma.

“How was your first day on set?” Jeremy asked excitedly over the phone from New York.

My cracking voice said it all. I was so disappointed in myself.

Though I’d had the advantage of watching
Top Chef
from the inside for so many years, it was also in some ways a disadvantage. Padma was always there in my head, and let me assure you, she casts a long, thin, beautiful shadow. I didn’t want to come across like a cheap version of her. But how do you own something that you’re not writing yourself, something that’s been said by someone else so many times before? There are only so many ways to say, “Pack your tools and go”!

After a while, I learned to riff and improvise, to make the role my own. I developed a comfortable rapport with the chefs, and I think it was clear how much I respected them. We became more relaxed together on the set.

Our contestants that first season were a very sensitive bunch. There was a lot of drama. Seth had a breakdown on episodes 3 and 4 and had to be excused from the competition. Malika quit. Heather C. was voted off, returned to replace Malika, and then was voted off again.

When I saw the edited show, I was shocked by how much tension there was between some of the contestants. We never saw that side of them at Judges’ Table or during the challenges. Just like on
Top Chef,
we typically only see chefs on their best behavior. Our cast revealed their true—if somewhat exaggerated—selves in the house and in their interviews.

I was mesmerized by Erika’s voice. I wanted her to sing me to sleep every night. She was graceful and lovely under pressure and always seemed so calm and collected. I adored Danielle’s quirkiness. She was like a cartoon character with her expressions. Someone nicknamed her “Olive Oyl,” and I thought that was perfect.

Zac, with his disco dust and his obsession with my Jimmy Choos, was smart and confident, if just a little sassy. Eric was a sensitive, earnest baker. He had never plated a dessert in his life before he came on the show. The winner, Yigit, was truly gifted at pastry and had an extraordinarily positive outlook on life. At the tender age of twenty-nine, he was such an old soul, wise beyond his years.

At least that’s how I perceived our motley crew. I suppose the truth lies somewhere between what I knew before the show aired and what I learned afterward.

Within the dessert genre, there are many distinct skill sets. The restaurant pastry chef focuses on single-serving, plated desserts. Hotel pastry chefs do much of that, too, plus buffets, whole cakes, amenities, and catered banquets; they usually work a lot more with chocolate showpieces and sugar sculptures. Bread bakers make bread and savory baked goods; for them, dessert generally means cakes and sweets that come out of the oven complete unto themselves—cakes, cookies, brownies, and single-serving pastries. They may have to employ decorations, but they don’t plate individual dishes with ice cream, garnishes, and sauce.

Learning the subtle intricacies of the dessert and baking worlds was a real education for me and, I think, for our viewers. In this way,
Just Desserts
has fulfilled its mission, which was to finally give dessert chefs their due.

Every July, Jeremy and I spend a week in Gloucester, Massachusetts, where his family has been vacationing for almost forty years. It’s become one of my favorite corners of the world. One July morning in 2007 we were fast asleep at the house in Gloucester when my cell phone rang. I answered in a fog.

“
Mazel! Mazel!
” came the voice from the other end. It was Andy Cohen, executive vice president at Bravo and one of
Top Chef
’s executive producers.

“What happened?” I said blearily.

“
Top Chef
just got nominated for an Emmy for Outstanding Reality Series!”

I jolted out of bed, waking up Jeremy, then woke up everyone in the house. I called my family. I called
Food & Wine
. I called Tom and Padma. I was elated. Until the hunt for my dress began.

I go to cocktail parties and events all the time, but it’s rare that I attend anything truly formal. The only other time I’d worn a long gown in recent memory was at my wedding.

Luckily,
Food & Wine
offered to help. We engaged the styling services of Mimi Lombardo, the fashion director for
Travel
+
Leisure
magazine, who has since become a trusted friend.

To be honest, I didn’t think it was going to be that complicated: People call in dresses all the time. Dresses appear. One of them is magnificent, and you wear it.

Alas, it wasn’t that simple.

First of all, there are many parts to an Emmy outfit: not just the dress, but the undergarments, the shoes, the jewelry, the bag. (This is when I curse all men on television, who can wear the same basic tuxedo to the Emmys every year, just changing their tie or adding a different set of cuff links.)

Second, on the long list of celebrities attending the Emmys, rest assured I am close to last. That’s not me being self-deprecating; that’s just a simple fact. I’m a judge on a food reality show, not a breakout ingénue from the season’s biggest network drama.

The other issue was sizing. Even if a designer agrees to provide you with dresses to try, you’re typically only sent samples. Samples are usually a size 2 or a size 0. I’m not overweight—but not even
one
boob of mine would fit into those sample dresses!

Trying on dress after dress for days on end, and finding most of them too small or just not attractive on me, definitely takes an emotional toll. In most ready-to-wear, I wear a size 6 or 8, but in certain high-end designer brands, I may need to go up a size or two. All of this adds up to a lot of reasons to feel bad about myself. But not so bad that I stay home, of course, and I have always arrived at the Emmys fully dressed, in a designer gown at that.

When we actually won the Outstanding Reality-Competition Emmy in 2010, usurping the award from seven-year category domination by
Amazing Race
, I was so overjoyed to be there in the first place, so completely dumbfounded and elated to be on stage with our production team and small heap of gold statues, in front of tens of millions of people, that it really didn’t matter what I was wearing anyway.

I’m still not entirely used to being recognized and scrutinized in public. And I struggle with how much energy to put into all these superficial things like clothing, hair, and makeup. When I first started working in television, I thought:
I can’t ever imagine being one of those women who needs hours of primping just to get the paper
.

And I’m not. I really don’t devote a lot of time or thought to it. But part of me now understands why people do.

The number one question I’m asked by viewers and by the press, whether it’s on the street or in an interview, is: “How do you eat so much and not gain weight?”

Padma is a pro at answering this question. She talks about how it’s a real struggle for her, and how her stylist has to buy her different sizes depending on where we are in the season, because she usually goes up a dress size or two during shooting, then has to lose it all again when the show is over. (Nevertheless, Padma managed to rock a bikini on our
All-Stars
season finale. I guarantee you will
never
catch me on the show in a bikini.)

My answer to the question is this: Yes, I exercise. I stress about it. I do my best to stay in shape. I really am taking in an enormous amount of extra calories, especially on
Just Desserts.
I need to burn off some of the energy from all that sugar. I have ramped up my workout, and I try to keep it up throughout the year. I run consistently and get outside whenever I can, but I am no marathoner. Running four miles or so a few times a week, going to the gym, taking a spin class or simply taking a long walk or a hike whenever I get the chance is a small price to pay for getting to do what I do. I refuse to let these concerns consume me. Some of it is genetic, I guess, and I try to make the healthiest food choices I can when I am not on set or working.

I have also learned to
taste
, which is different from eating. When we’re served eighteen dishes in one sitting, we only need a bite or two from each to determine its success or failure. We certainly don’t need to finish the plate. As my Vietnam adventures taught me, because I am so lucky in this life, there will always be another meal.

Keep in mind that although I work on a competitive cooking show, I’m not in the business of competitive consumption. Seeing how many hot dogs or burgers I can stuff in my stomach in one sitting is not the end goal. I work in quality, not quantity. On one recent occasion I was asked to judge a contest where I was required to taste in the realm of twenty-four meatballs in one night to determine a winner. While having a chance to sample such a wide variety, made by the country’s best restaurants, may sound exciting, rest assured that by the end of the night I was sufficiently nauseous and happy to retire my meatball judging title for the foreseeable future.

It can be exasperating, though, to be constantly reminded of the issue. Google my name, and you’ll find that one of the top auto-fills after “Gail Simmons” is “weight.” Now Google Tom Colicchio. I assure you that “weight” is
not
one of the top suggested fill-ins. No one interrogates Tom on how
he
stays trim—and Tom’s not exactly a small guy. Sure, he exercises, but he’s no Calvin Klein model.

And yet, Tom is a heartthrob—one of
People
’s Sexiest Men Alive. I can’t count the number of women (and men!) who tell me they have a crush on Tom. There are certainly no blogs obsessively considering his workout schedule. And he’s immune from the perennial “Is she pregnant?”

Find me a woman in America who doesn’t wish she could lose five pounds. I stand in front of the mirror like anyone else and poke at my stomach or analyze my hips. We all struggle with that desire to be a little more perfect. Combine typical female insecurity with the fact that I have to spend most of my days gorging myself on national television while viewers study every bite, and you can see why the issue can be stressful.

I know so many women who let their weight define them, until it becomes all they talk about. There is nothing more boring and painful to me than talking about one’s diet at the dinner table. It breaks my heart when people can’t appreciate good food because eating triggers issues of control or fear. It’s obviously a complex and emotionally fraught topic, but I want people to know that food is not the enemy. Moderation is vital, but so is pleasure.