Chef's Table

"Chef's Table", created by David Gelb (of "Jiro Dreams of Sushi" fame) might at first glance seem to be yet another show celebrating food but in retrospect its title makes it clear that its main theme is the chefs themselves. It certainly celebrates food in the way that no movie or show about an artist can't help but to celebrate their work (and does so magnificently with some of the sexiest "food porn" ever shot) but "Chef's Table" is almost entirely about the creators. What makes their creativity tick? Where do they come from? How does their personal past and present influence their work? How do they live? What does their artistic "voice" say about what food could and SHOULD be?

From an attempt to challenge the ultra-traditional notions of cooking in Italy to trying to find an identity for a still-being-defined Australian cuisine. From the oddly modern and crucial-for-the-future appreciation of the old ways of farming and foraging (which still can't help but be influenced by current advances in technology) to the almost unavoidable requirement of having at least some traditional studies in France or under French chefs (like at least half of the 6 chefs featured so far in this series have). From the importance of rigor and effort to achieve perfection to the importance of experimentation and relaxation to achieve, well... perfection; "Chef's Table" shows us the many challenges, contradictions and impulses that these chefs have had to face in order to be recognized amongst the best in the world, but most importantly, to have a voice of their own.

While shows like Anthony Bourdain's tell us the wonders of food by means of traveling externally and seeing the infinite possibilities found around the world, "Chef's Table" shows us the wonders of traveling inwards, of finding infinite possibilities in one's own memories, origins and desires. The defining elements that tie all of these chefs together is that they all needed cuisine as a way to express themselves and that they've had to carve niches of their own to be able to feel comfortable and satisfied in being themselves, in saying what they WANT to say. Much like when one first knows of the existence of "film language" and in doing so begins understanding and appreciating the art form far more than before, "Chef's Table" is a series that makes one understand "food language" in the best way possible: directly from 6 of its most honestly individual voices, from 6 of its own "auteurs".

Is a mere recipe really worth risking 'failure in life' over? Is food really something that can be meaningful and life-affirming?

I love the process of creating and serving food and people who devote themselves to making the world a better place one serving at a time. And as I watched the first episode of Netflix's production called Chef's Table featuring Massimo Bottura, I have never felt so utterly moved by a chef's ideas and philosophy about life.

I don't care whether Massimo Bottura's restaurant 'Osteria Francescana' has the envious rep of being the world's third best restaurant in the world as much as the man himself and what and how he thinks, because after all, history is littered with the corpses of people who never made it, despite being mindblowingly original and creative and bold and 'I'm gonna go out there and make a dent in the universe' attitude - qualities that I worship.

Yes, worship.

No, what takes me by the neck and inspires me to raise my own consciousness is Mr. Bottura's passion for life and being original while living it each day. What gives me goosebumps is his way of taking a failure and throwing it back on the wall and turning it into a metaphorical fresco when lesser people would have just slumped down and given up.

Steven Soderbergh, while accepting his Oscar for directing 'Erin Brockovich', dedicated his prize to "anyone who has ever created something - i don't care whether its a book or music or whatever".

I too reserve the greatest respect for anyone who has ever dared to create something that moves this world forward in ANY sense against the forces of disorder and apathy and emotional and physical entropy and brings order and energy back into our lives.

I will definitely be watching more of Chef's Table's episodes, and I hope you would too and spread the word. In this mostly sad, pathetic, morose, inert, world we need all the inspiration we can get. I know I do.

When Netflix began releasing titles I never expected them to turn to the streets for commercial venue. By the streets, I mean, are those which we come by naturally, on our everyday lives. Hotels, restaurants, plazas, touristic organizations represent some examples.

As it resonated with my cuisine interests, Chef's Table caught my eye as a way to kill an hour and a half.

Never have I experienced such emotional development or communicated elation through watching a food review show. It really becomes something much more than simply a show; instead, a reality one can fully connect with, as the people depicted are not actors, but unmasked human beings.

Season 1-4 plus the French episodes are amazing and truly inspirational! One of the best things Netflix have put out.

I understand there's only a handful of extraordinary chefs, but there's gotta be some more interesting chefs than those they've included in the last two seasons. At least put more focus on the food rather than dragging it out. I used to turn on chefs table to be inspired, now I turn it on for sleep aid.

I don't even want to describe it (so I don't spoil it). I saw every episode (including the french season) and even rewatched some. I'd rewatch it all many more times.

Astonishing shots that softly, tastefully and masterfully serve the purpose of cutting into the body and heart of the artist in the kitchen.

In every one of them, every different (very different) chef is analized and is given the chance to speak through words and actions and the soul filling works of art and science and alchemy that we call 'dishes'.

This is a show in which each piece does its part in the fashion of a ballet rehearsed till exhaustion. A documentary where the person behind the camera stretches their open hand and is then greeted with the exquisit fruit of the sweat and tears and blood and fire and brains and faith of the simple person that, day after day, peels potatoes and slices onions and then lets go of their ephimerous creations, entrusting them on the hands of waiters, resting assured that their masterpieces are off to the sea of tables and will burn in the mouths of the people and lie to rest deep within the waves of our unconscious. One may come to realize chefs are the most political artists to ever step on this little grape we call Earth.