I’m not going to lie to you. I was supposed to have already reviewed Rocco’s Dinner Party some time ago. You see, Rocco’s Dinner Party premiered June 15th, and I taped it. Then I forgot about it. The next week rolled around, and I decided to tape the 2nd episode and review the first two episodes together. I did that, but then forgot about both episodes. And now week three is here, and I’m forced to review three episodes of this show all at once. There are car thieves who’ve had it better at sentencing.
You may remember Rocco from his previous TV show, The Restaurant. This was a “reality” show where Rocco and a business partner tried to successfully open a restaurant together in Manhattan. Weirdly, I think this show just kind of ended mid-season. Apparently, there was a real-life falling out (not just a fake reality TV falling out) between Rocco and his partner. I don’t remember much from that show other than I wasn’t a fan of Rocco’s annoying poutiness and constant angst about what to do.
The basic premise of Rocco’s Dinner Party is typical of a number of other cooking competition shows like Top Chef, Chopped, and others. In this one, three chefs are gathered at Rocco’s place to cook for him and his guests at a dinner party (this would be why it’s called Rocco’s Dinner Party in case you didn’t get that). Before they can cook for the party and guests, however, they must cook their signature dish in 30 minutes just for Rocco. After a frenetic half hour, Rocco tastes the dishes, asks questions and generally picks apart their work in his stern, insulting, made-for-TV fake seriousness. The chef with the worst dish here gets the axe, and the remaining two chefs get to cook a full menu for Rocco and his dinner guests.
I admit it. I like food. I like cooking, and sadly, I actually like a lot of these cooking competition shows. But man, can they take themselves any more seriously? I am sooo getting tired of the pretentiousness. It’s especially annoying to watch when the judges chastise some chef like a school kid for doing something that the chef would never do in a normal cooking environment. Usually, these exchanges go something like this.
Judge: “This dish is a little rarer than it should be. (Sarcastically) Do you think it’s a good idea to serve this (insert food) this rare?”
Chef: “Well, no. I tried to execute the dish, but just ran out of time.”
In my mind, this is how I would love the conversation to go instead:
Judge: “This dish is a little rarer than it should be. (Sarcastically) Do you think it’s a good idea to serve this (insert food) this rare?”
Chef: “Well, maybe I served it a bit rare because the timer ran out, you jerk. You see that timer you’ve got sitting there? If I don’t serve you something before that timer runs out then I will lose for sure. If, however, I give you something, even this piece of pink chicken that’s sure to give you salmonella, there’s a slight chance that the other guy I’m up against screwed up worse than this. Maybe he accidentally dropped a razor blade into his sauce, who knows? You do realize I don’t have a timer in my restaurant don’t you? You do realize that in my actual restaurant I might, you know, have the waiter drop off some more bread or something and cook the dish a few minutes longer.”
Look, the judges should downgrade them for something not prepared correctly, but I’d like to see them lighten up on the school teacher lectures. The TV show set up the fake TV time premise, not the chef.
I digress. After one chef is eliminated in the signature dish round, the other two remaining chefs get to prepare a full menu for Rocco’s Dinner Party. The chefs are given a theme for the dinner party and a $500 budget. They must plan their entrees and venture out for groceries.
But before the final two chefs can get to it, they’ve got’s some designin’ to do. And, by designin’, I mean they are given a theme, given a designer (Rocco’s “friend” Jen Gordon) and asked a few questions before the designer disappears and basically designs the entire room for them. Oh, for sure the chefs totally have the final say so. This is totally important! After all, the chefs typically make some sweeping changes to the designs like removing a vase or two, which is obviously a crucial part of the evening.
Asking these guys their design ideas is like my wife asking me my opinion on a new design for our kitchen.
Wife: “Honey, what should we do about redecorating the kitchen?”
Me: “Well, I think an old western look would be awesome! We could add saloon doors and have fake guns hanging everywhere, and perhaps a “Billy the Kid” poster over there.
Wife: “Hmmmm, okay then, I think we’ll go with the dark brown hardwood floors then.”
Supposedly, design is part of the grade, but honestly this whole phase seems like a way to kill 15 minutes of the show. (“Man, how can we get less of Rocco on this show? I know, let’s bring in a designer”). After working with the designer and running out for the ingredients, the chefs begin preparing their menus for the guests.
And who are the guests you ask? Who knows? I’ve barely heard of any of these people. They’re usually some group of pseudo-famous designers, editors, actors, rodeo clowns, jugglers, Brazilian singers, secret shoppers, and others. But, they’re an elite group that will likely cause you to say things like, “Hey, I think I might recognize that guy from some place” or “Was that guy in a movie with Meredith Baxter Birney?”
Every week, one of the guests (sometimes two) will throw a curveball at the chef’s by having a special request. Usually this is some dietary preference or special need. Rocco strangely forgets to mention this to the chefs until they’re about halfway through the evening’s preparations. This forces them to adjust on the fly.
Speaking of the chefs, they are given one hour to serve everyone at the dinner party. If they fail to get the dishes out in time, the guests will move on to the next chef’s menu or call an end to the evening. This turns up the pressure on the kitchen, and makes for more fast-paced cooking drama. Rocco, of course, makes occasional appearances to ask questions, offer prickly advice and/or hurry the chef’s along.
Once, the dinner parties are over, Rocco thanks his guests for coming and announces that he must choose which chef is the winner. While he will keep the guests’ comments in mind, ultimately Rocco will make the final decision. The winner of Rocco’s Dinner Party receives a prize of $20,000 (double the prize of Chopped contestants).
Watching Rocco critique these chefs is a little like watching some “technician” at Best Buy try to explain to me why I absolutely have to have this $100.00 HDMI cable for my home entertainment setup. Sure, the Best Buy guy knows slightly more about cables than I do, but somehow his delivery seems a little forced, a little condescending, and I’m pretty sure what he’s telling me isn’t as important as he’s making it out to be.
Tom Colicchio at Top Chef can pull off the role of “critical chef critiquing the contestants at their work,” but Rocco seems too stern and forced. There’s certainly nothing new here, and so you’re pretty much dependent on the personality of the host to carry the show. And, his personality just doesn’t do it for me. There’s a certain snippiness that makes him kind of dislikable.
Still, as a person who generally likes the cooking competition types of shows, this show isn’t the worst I’ve seen. If you’ve got an hour to kill and you enjoy food and/or cooking, you may find it passable. And, you may be able to a laugh at some of the over-the-top seriousness from the host.
For more in-depth information about the first three episodes, including Rocco’s comments, the dishes that were made, and Rocco’s celebrity guests for each episode, read Mike’s Recap!
Rocco’s Dinner Party airs Wednesdays @ 10 p.m. on Bravo.
Mike Reynolds is a writer and reviewer for Discount Party Supplies. He is from an undisclosed location in the Midwest and has a secret past.
