Culinary Chops Tested in Top Chef Canada

Gochujang lobster tail, crab and miso custard

This evening was the kick off of season 12 of Top Chef Canada, with 10 professional chefs competing for the top prize of bragging rights and a cool $100,000.

I attended the screening party for the first episode tonight at Five Sails in the Pan Pacific Hotel, where chef Alex Kim is the executive chef and one of the competitors.

Chef Kim of Five Sails

Before the show aired he welcomed the assembled crowd of food journalists, influencers and fellow chefs like Chanthy Yen, who won last season's Top Chef Canada, and Warren Chow, who was awarded the Michelin Young Chef title in 2023. Even one of the judges, Mijune Pak arrived a few weeks after giving birth to her daughter Amelie. Baby was carried into the noisy restaurant by Pak's husband Romain.

The episode was set in Toronto's St Lawrence Market, and the challenge was for the 10 chefs to collaborate to present a 10-course dinner that would be served at Linny's, a steakhouse opened by chef David Schwartz. The dishes they made had to reflect their heritage and when they wanted to become a chef.

For Kim, he has always talked about his childhood of being born in Seoul, but spending holidays with his grandparents on their farm. His grandmother taught him how to cook, particularly pickling and fermenting. He decided to use gochujang, or red chilli paste incorporated into a lobster, crab and miso custard topped with lobster tail and crispy mushroom.

Also competing from Vancouver is Katy Cheung, who is sous-chef at Michelin-starred Burdock & Co. Originally from Hong Kong, Cheung was inspired by fish balls to made a fish mousseline that looked flawless in execution.

Chef Cheung of Burdock & Co

She also held a viewing party at Bar Gobo, where Cheung encouraged gathered guests to drink alcohol if she is running; swears, says "Let's go!"; Hong Kong and Burdock & Co.

In the end the judges were very impressed by Kim's dish and he won the challenge handily. Lo and behold -- we were served a portion each to try! It really was balanced, not too spicy, smooth texture, fresh lobster and the bisque flavour was infused in the custard.

Exciting first episode, but we'll have to see who eventually wins as no one on the show is allowed to reveal anything!

Review: Shall We Dance?

Light-hearted Japanese comedy with lots of dancing 

Many years ago in Hong Kong, my friend YTSL suggested I watch a 1996 Japanese film called Shall We Dance? and I remembered it was funny. Fast forward to today and saw it was being shown in Vancouver so I went to rewatch it and there were so many details I had forgotten!

A Japanese salaryman, Shohei Sugiyama (Koji Yakusho) has just bought a house in the suburbs with his wife and teenage daughter, but he feels his life is missing something. On the train on the way home, he looks up to see a beautiful woman looking out the window of a dance studio.

A funny cast of characters with their own stories

Sugiyama works up the courage to go there and inquire about lessons; she is Mai Kishikawa (Tamiyo Kusakari), who turns out to be a professional competitive dancer, though he begins taking group lessons from an older, kindly woman.

Comedy ensues with the two other male students, and Sugiyama discovers his colleague from work has an alter ego on the dance floor, particularly when it comes to Latin dance.

But Sugiyama gets the hang of dancing and begins to enjoy it immensely -- but doesn't dare tell his wife and daughter. However, his wife gets suspicious when she smells perfume on his clothes and hires a private detective to find out what's going on...

The name of the film takes the line from the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical The King and I in the film adaptation starring Yul Brynner and Deborah Kerr.

I had forgotten how amusing the various characters were, from the dance classmates, Sugiyama's colleague, and the bitchy Toyoko Tanaka (Eriko Watanabe), who seems to see through everyone.

Secretly practicing in the office bathroom

And it turns out every character also has a story to tell about why they became obsessed with dance, some delivering monologues that further reveal their personality and motivation to dramatic effect.

The light-hearted film gives a nice introduction to the world of ballroom dancing, the culture and what it takes to compete. Even Mai learns more about herself, coming to terms with her mistakes in the past.

The main message of Shall We Dance? is to not be afraid to demonstrate your passion for something, because that will make you happy. 

Even though the film is almost 30 years old, it has aged well (OK apart from few big shoulder pads). 

Shall We Dance?

Directed by Masayuki Suo

1996

136 mins

Hong Kong has a Piano Star

Sham (centre), with Ozel of the US (left), and Starikov of Israel

Over the weekend, 29-year-old Aristo Sham Ching-tao was awarded first prize in the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition in Forth Worth, Texas, the first time a Hongkonger has won this prestigious event.

He and 27 other competitors from 15 countries went through four gruelling rounds over two-and-a-half weeks. Vitaly Starikov of Israel won silver, and Evren Ozel of the United States was handed bronze.

The competition is held every four years and the Van Cliburn competition has an age limit of 30, so Sham is very lucky to win it this year.

Lee hopes to get Sham to perform in Hong Kong

Sham's award of a gold medal comes with a cash prize of US$100,000, international concert tours, a live album recording contract, career management support, and his performance wardrobe supplied by Neiman Marcus.

After news of Sham's win, Hong Kong Chief Executive John Lee Ka-chiu said the government would work hard to arrange for the pianist to perform in the city.

"If Aristo will find time to make a few performances in Hong Kong, it will really get us even more excited," he said. 

"We will work hard to see whether we can make it happen."

Looking at his website, the last time Sham performed in Hong Kong was in December, and before that September... perhaps the government could swing a concert or two soon?

VIFF Review: Pianoforte

The film follows pianists competing in the Chopin competition

Yesterday I watched another documentary as part of the Vancouver International Film Festival, called Pianoforte, which follows several pianists vying to win the International Chopin Piano Competition. Needless to say it's stressful to watch the competitors deal with the immense pressure.

The competition started in 1927 and from 1955 is held every five years. The 2020 competition was postponed for a year because of the pandemic, and that is the one that was filmed in Pianoforte. There are some 160 competitors, that gets knocked down to 80, then 40, then eventually down to the final 12. Four runner-ups are announced before the winner.

The director Jakub Piatek approached the organisers of the competition in 2019 about doing the documentary and they were interested. He admits not knowing much about classical music, which he says allowed him to ask a lot of questions that would inform the viewers of what was going on.

(left) Gadjiev and Armellini are good friends

But it seemed most of the audience who watched the film yesterday had a musical background. When the venue manager introduced the film and said "Chop-in", many people snickered and a man said, "It's show-pan" and the manager giggled and had a good laugh.

Piatek interviewed 40 competitors in video calls, and then met them in person when they had to perform in the preliminary round in Warsaw, Poland, and that helped them narrow down the pool to about six or seven pianists. Some were knocked out in successive rounds, and so in the film there are only quick clips of them packing up their suitcases despite having filmed their back story in their respective home countries.

Because of the pandemic, Piatek had to rely on finding film crews in places like China, Japan, Russia, Italy and Poland.

The final group of people they followed were diverse in race, outlook, and approach to the competition. Italian-Slovenian Alexander Gadjiev seems a bit older than everyone else with graying long hair, only wears shirts, and slacks, and practices his own kind of meditation that involves moving his wrists in circles.

Hao with his teacher Li and director Piatek

Leonora Armellini of Italy has long chestnut brown hair, and hangs out with Gadjiev. They give the appearance of slackers, filmed in bars drinking alcohol and chatting with strangers, but the judges could see their passion for Chopin. 

Hao Rao is a 16-year-old from Jishou, in Hunan province, China. He is accompanied by his piano teacher, Vivian Li. She is very encouraging, but constantly telling him to practice and he dutifully obeys. There is a striking scene of him at home in a small apartment. He plays the piano while his mother cooks nearby, and his father watches him from behind. They politely listen, but probably have no understanding of the talent their son has.

His mother pulls out a binder filled with the train tickets they have taken to lesson and competitions. He travels 16 hours to Guangzhou for his lessons which is quite the feat -- and proves his love of music. Li later admits that her teacher had primed her for this Chopin competition, but when it came down to it, she chickened out, claiming she was not ambitious enough.

Hao contrasts with a young Russian teen about the same age as him whose teacher is very tough on her, a woman in her 60s who came from the Soviet-era of piano training. The teen, who has very long hair, is caught between focusing on her playing and being belittled by her teacher.

This Russian teen believes she is talented... or not?

Another Italian pianist is brutally honest about how stressful the competition is, and says she has nightmares of zombies invading her village and she has to kill them all, but that's easier than playing in this competition. 

A Polish pianist even uses his smartphone to film himself playing because he knows the cameras are going to film him at the piano and so he wants to know what he looks like...

It's these small scenes that reveal the stress, the relationships between the pianists and their parents or teachers, the humour and the passion. Pianoforte does not focus too much on the playing because really, who are we to judge? We can see their agony and dread, elation and relief on their faces, and that's all we really need to know.

If you follow the competition, you will know who won, but it is not revealed until the end of the film. It's not important -- it's what drives these people to compete for 21 days straight and we as the audience can sympathise with them.

Pianoforte

Directed by Jakub Piatek

89 minutes

Music Festival Brings up Memories

These music competitions help children get used to performing

These last two days I have been volunteering for the Kiwanis Music Festival, where young students get to compete against their peers once a year.

Adjudicators are invited from outside Vancouver to come and judge the budding musicians. I met one adjudicator today from Victoria, BC, who had played professionally in Winnipeg, Manitoba for many years. 

We had a quick chat outside as he soaked in the sunshine (it was overcast yesterday) to kill a bit of time before the competition began.

Cello is a popular instrument

As an ambassador I had to greet the students and their families and direct them to the right place, as the venue had two rooms, one for violinists, the other for cellists.

Most of the kids were mainland Chinese or Korean. One very young Korean boy, about five years old -- very smartly dressed and wore Tod's loafers, was accompanied by his mom and his grandma, who carried the cello as if she was hugging it. It sounded like he did well, as he called his father right after with big cheers.

I learned piano from the age of seven to about 16. Competing in the Kiwanis Music Festival was an annual ritual that frazzled my nerves.

My heart pounded so loudly I wondered if everyone else could hear it and was so relieved when it was all over, but also annoyed if I did not do well.

One time my mom had to drive me to North Vancouver and she was unfamiliar with the area (pre-GPS) and we got lost. Sitting in the back seat I was getting more anxious, lost and late! We finally found the venue and I was allowed to go last to help settle my nerves before performing.

I remember the adjudicator saying I played the piece well, but it was supposed to be played lightly like a bird singing, but instead it sounded like an elephant playing. I was just relieved to get the whole thing over with.

Another time, when I was 16, I was so nervous that when I sat at the keyboard, I completely blanked out and forgot what I was going to play. 

I stared blankly at the keys, unable to play

I lost all my confidence and had to perform with the music, and I almost played it like I had just learned the piece (JS Bach's Prelude No. 1 in C major, or Ave Maria).

The next day I was supposed to play the same piece for my whole school and I freaked out, but my music teacher insisted that I play it. I did and it was an affirmation that I could do it.

Back at this year's festival, while waiting her turn, an accompanist on the piano for one or more of the cellists sat outside and told me these competitions are a frightening experience for children. I remarked that they would put them in good stead later in life when making presentations and speeches.

But she said for some people just playing for a competition was hard enough as it was and I told her about my blanking out experience. That happened to her too.

She said in her 20s and 30s she was so nervous performing in front of people, that it was only in her 40s that she got used to performing in public, it was not something she liked.

Then she talked about how difficult it must be for professional musicians, and how there was so much expectation heaped on them.

I suggested perhaps there were some performers who liked the attention.

However, she thought for a true musician, the end goal was not attention, but their love of music, and they would not enjoy performing in public...