Just like a brunch is about leisure and relaxation with friends and family, The Big Brunch on HBO Max builds culinary entertainment that is good-natured, with contestants supporting each other, with less frantic rhythm and editing style, without bombast and brashness. And lots of F-bombs.
Just sit back and enjoy, as though you were having brunch with friends. That appears to be the inspiration of The Big Brunch, the new cooking show on HBO Max. A brunch is about leisure and relaxation with friends and family (as much chefs hate it, as The New York Times review points out). The Big Brunch builds on the insight that there is room for culinary entertainment à la The Great British Baking Show: good-natured, with contestants supporting each other, with less frantic rhythm and editing style, without bombast and brashness. F-bombs are thrown around gleefully, including by the judges. Considering that the show is on HBO, it is surprising we don’t hear more cursing, which would be more reflective of the reality of a working kitchen.
Produced and hosted by Dan Levy of Schitt’s Creek fame, the show offers to viewers a similar atmosphere as in The Great Canadian Baking Show, in which Levy was also the host. Levy presents himself as “host, confidant, and cheerleader.” He does not even pretend to be a food expert; he expresses trepidation at eating an oyster, which he ingests supported by his alcoholic beverage. He presents himself as your average consumer and restaurant-goers.
The expertise necessary to evaluate the work of the contestants is provided by the two judges, recipe writer and influencer Sohla El-Waylly and restaurateur Will Guidara, who was at Eleven Madison Park when the New York City institution got its Three Michelin Star. While the former focuses mostly on taste and techniques, the second also provide feedback from an industry point of view, reflecting how dishes may work in a menu or how patrons would appreciate them. While the cooks work, the host and the judges sit sociably, drinking brunch cocktails and chatting about food but also many other things, including late night booty calls. The conversation is entertaining and at times hilarious.
Although both El-Waylly and Guidara can be considered part of the culinary establishment, they do not come across as all-knowing authorities. When Levy asks for a Caesar, a Canadian interpretation of the classic Bloody Mary with the addition of Clamato (clam juice), the two Americans have no problems declaring their ignorance while asking for a tasting portion. That dynamic is maintained all along the show. The diversity of the whole cast –from the judges to the bartender and the contestants– in term of ethnicity and sexual orientation is quite refreshing. This choice is also reflected in the way the dishes are evaluated: there is no established culinary tradition chefs have to conform to, although Guidara and the woman are part of the culinary establishment. The Mexican episode of the current season of The Great British Baking Show has demonstrated the risk of that monocultural approach through cringeworthy commentary on a cuisine about which the judges clearly had no clue. In The Big Brunch contestants explain their dishes and their culinary traditions in their own terms.
The contestants are invited to be themselves. They do not wear uniforms but they all come as they are. One of the contestants comments on her own “resting bitch face,” displaying little patience for TV-friendly chit-chat while she is cooking. The judges notice and comment on it, but they do not hold it against her. In the first episode, the chefs are told their creations will be examined based on taste, presentation, and the specificity of their voices. In fact, the very first challenge gives them the opportunity to express themselves and present who they are by preparing a dish that started them on their culinary career. When a Haitian contestant makes Spaghetti ak aranso, spicy spaghetti with smoked herring, she holds back on the scotch bonnet because she is afraid the judges can’t take it. The judges tell her to go for it, and they will follow. As a result, the contestants produce dishes inspired by Korean, Cantonese, Mexican, and Ethiopian cuisines that are judged on their own merits and not in comparison with any other culinary tradition.
In The Big Brunch, food is celebration and pleasure. Food is playful and fun and for that reason it gathers people, builds community, and brings family together. The third episode is dedicated to the morning after brunch, aka the hangover brunch, which most viewers can relate to and tell funny stories about. In one of the challenges, the contestants have to create a restorative drink with an appetizer in or on it. Mentions of tensions, anxiety, and ambivalence around food and eating is only hinted to, and always in light tones.
Other values are also highlighted. Food is emotional, it connects with personal stories. It is a cultural expression of ethnicity. It is a crucial component of a healthy lifestyle (one of the male contestants shares his struggle with excess weight). Yet contestants have no qualms embracing “greasy spoon” rather than “enlightened fork” styles, as one of them notes. Food is important when it comes to sustainability, as restaurants and consumers can support farmers, distillers, and artisans. A vegan chef of Mexican descent, from El Paso Texas, is clearly moved and stops short from mentioning the crucial role of immigrant workers in the food system. A whole episode is dedicated to farm-to-table cuisine, with challenges focusing on vegan and vegetarian cooking.
The woke inspiration of the show also comes through the personal stories of the contestants. They are all, in one form or another, socially engaged in terms of community involvement, sustainability, and food justice. The $300.000 final prize is meant to support them not only professionally, but also in their efforts to improve their communities. Although the challenges are timed and the chefs are under pressure, they make way for each other, with courtesy. They help each other present food to the judges. They hug each other when they succeed, they support each other when they fail. “I hope there is no villain in this group,” quips Levy; “every reality TV show has a villain.” Well, no villains here. It is a different atmosphere from the cut-throat competitions that are still a substantial component of Food TV.
The whole enterprise seems impishly dedicated to laying bare the prevalent and often stale tropes of Food TV. In some ways, it reminds of shows like Nailed It. After all, it is all about an informal meal that is a container for almost anything. Nevertheless, The Big Brunch adopts a well-tested format: in every episode the contestants have to prepare a starter and a main, and in the end one of them is eliminated. The winner of each episode gets the title of “Best in Brunch,” which comes with the advantage of being judged first in the next episode, so their food is fresher off the stove and they experience less anxiety while waiting for their work to be examined.
Also the set adopts some of the conventions but little twists. The studio is divided in two, reproducing the distinction between kitchen and front of the house in restaurants. However, the two spaces are connected through a window with a sliding partition through which judges can watch, at least during the preparation of the starter, allowing viewers to experience a vicarious open kitchen feel. The judges get up and taste starters at the window, where the contestants themselves bring food, while servers bring the mains from the window to the judges’ table. The sliding partition at the window is down when chefs cook the main and rises when the judges evaluate their work. From the visual point of view, food porn close-up shots are used parsimoniously, with the exception of the vegetables in the farm-to-fork episode. The focus is on the contestants and what they do. We are reminded that food is beautiful but it would not be there without the people behind it.