Service: Netflix
Season Year: 2026
Watch: Netflix
Here we are, once again, back in the octagon of Korean cooking. Or, rather, the giant, insular set. Even more so than season one of Culinary Class Wars, this one felt like it was taking place in a giant underground lair on Squid Game island. Things rise from the floor and exist in silly, spinning wheels of death for no apparent reason. And meals are first tried in this weird cell that looks like something out of Saw-like dungeon porn. And perhaps this is a cultural thing and this oddball monolithic spectacle is somehow appetizing to its Korean audience, but the entire lack of any organic anything anywhere seems to take away from my enjoyment of what should be an unctuous, warm and nurturing experience. Instead, we’re faced with this kind of faceless, cold environment that feels like it was designed by the dude who created the empty, echoing palace in Dune (but without any of the dust or grit).
As I said after season one, it’s interesting to watch a show that feels so outside an American series like Top Chef. I’m sure the talent and quality is certainly on par — and in some cases even eclipses it — but the homogeny of the cooking is remarkable compared to the variety of cuisine we see in similar American series. This is a Korean-first show, after all. And though you have what I think is close to 100% Korean chefs, you have an “international” food focus on everything from Japanese to Chinese to “Western” cuisine. Which, in itself, is kind of a feint. Because even these Korean chefs who happen to cook in Japanese, Chinese or “Western” style (which is basically just French or Italian), they usually decide to make some sort of Korean, Japanese-Korean, Chinese-Korean or Western-Korean hybrid dish to satisfy the judges. So, yeah, no fufu. No Latin or Caribbean flavors or lutefisk or Middle Eastern or Mediterranean or even something Indonesian or Vietnamese or Thai or Indian. All cuisines and flavors that you’ll find in abundance in American cooking competitions because of the diaspora of the North American experience and the openness of the American palate. This is not at all to disparage the tastes of the Korean public or the judges — they certainly consume some things that I wouldn’t even think to eat — but in terms of watching a contest, it makes for a less-than-varied experience. Something that in season one was fascinating, but in a second go ’round becomes tiring and somewhat boring pretty quickly. I imagine there are chefs in Korea who cook cuisines from other nations or can bring something completely different to the table. But, perhaps, that’s not what they’re looking for to win the show. But I, as a viewer, need to see something different.
Aside from the somewhat lackluster variables, the mechanics of the show this season feel like they were kind of mid-tweak when they released it. This is a hallmark of cooking contests, where they have to switch up how they eliminate people and how they limit their access to ingredients and whatnot. It’s always gimmicky, but there are some ideas, including some clearly expensive sets that involve a wheel of death or something, that felt a little half-baked. Granted, the set is very slick and classy looking, but as I mentioned earlier, looks like they’re having a contest inside a giant obelisk. Plus, the sound design on the show is particularly odd. Perhaps it’s the way Koreans cook, but there is barely any sound while they cut, chop, fry and boil. It’s eerily silent. Unlike the cooking shows we’re used to where people are constantly yelling “behind!” and clanging and clacking and banging and bantering and cussing. It makes the process feel more organic and functionally interesting. The weird ASMR they employ here divorces us from the actual cooking, making everything feel very controlled and distant. We do get some insight into a couple of the contestants, which is good, but our sense of time and space is stunted due to the show taking place all in this giant, insulated set. It’s happening outside of the world and the environs of wherever in Korea this is being filmed. It’s not post-apocalyptic, but it might as well be.
The whole concept of the show is pitting white chefs against black chefs. No, not that way. That would be real awkward. Besides, there are neither black nor white chefs in this contest. The white chefs are the pros who have, uh, lots of experience and Michelin stars and whatnot. And the black chefs are pros who just have a bunch of experience, but just not as much as the white chefs. This year they decided to create a scenario that eliminates the entirety of one side of the equation. Which, to my mind, undermines the whole concept. There must have been some decision based on outcomes from last season, but it really put a kink in the proceedings. It’s an odd choice. They do manage to maintain a couple of the folks who have somewhat compelling stories — the older, more experienced chefs getting somewhat short shrift on their personal biographies beyond rudimentary packages — but everything emotional and/or interesting revolves around their professional. It’s a narrow lens. Anyhow, perhaps it’s the fact I had to read a lot of text on screen, but the show is just a little too antiseptic. Too clean and quiet. It’s missing some of the hecticness and utter failures that we’re used to. It’s not as if I watch these shows to see people humiliated or anything, but the tension and competition just isn’t there in what is supposed to be a competition. I do imagine it’s some of the respect that is culturally built into the whole elder worship thing, but even the finale is marked with a bit of a shrug after watching these two judges shovel so much food into their gobs. An amount of food that remains shockingly impressive in the way the Fourth of July hot dog eating contest is impressive, but can’t overcome the 50th samey-samey plate of rice and grilled meat.
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