Iron chef-palooza / Epicurean circus comes to
California

BY CAROLYN JUNG
Mercury News Food Editor

NSIDE a cluttered, warren-like Oakland warehouse, during one heart-stopping, revel-rousing Saturday
afternoon, ``Iron Chef'' came to life.

Fanatics of the wildly popular Japanese cooking show paid the ultimate tribute to the cult hit recently by
enacting their own live version of it.

With makeshift satin costumes, a lean-mean ``Kitchen Stadium'' and a gaggle of cameras and microphones,
they staged their own rendition of the culinary battle that has fans riveted to their TVs 8 p.m. every Saturday
for the show produced by Japan's Fuji TV and broadcast locally on KTSF (Channel 26).

Just like the show, this event pitted a challenger chef against a reigning Iron Chef. In this case, it was Iron Chef
California, the master of -- what else? -- California cuisine. Just like the TV version, it was a supreme test of
culinary skills: a race against the clock to create the most astounding dishes using a secret theme ingredient.

Challenger chef Morrisa Sherman, 31, of Fremont, a collage artist, came armed with three food processors
and the pledge ``to do my best to win for the honor of my family and my good name.''

Iron Chef California, Tanith Tyrr, a 20-something wildlife rescue specialist and Berkeley caterer, arrived
equally prepared -- with her own foie gras, black truffles and professional ice cream maker -- essentials no
Iron Chef would ever be without.

``I'm going for pure Iron Chef cuisine, which American palates might not understand,'' Tyrr says. ``I'm not
confident of winning. But that's OK. I would rather be true to `Iron Chef' and lose, than win and be untrue.''

The event mimicked the show as much as possible. But, naturally, some liberties were taken.

The one hour the TV chefs normally get to cook their dishes was stretched to a very generous hour and a half
in this event.

No subtitles were necessary since nobody was speaking Japanese here.

The secret ingredient was, well, not so secret. As on the TV show, the chefs received in advance a list of five
possible ingredients, one of which was to be chosen at random by the event's host just before the battle
began. With Passover in mind, it was to be either lamb, gefilte fish, liver, pomegranate or matzo. But
pomegranates are out of season. And the challenger chef is a vegetarian. So, guess what was left?

On top of that, the crowd was -- shall we say -- a little different. On the show, a handful of rather reserved
Japanese chefs and family members usually watch in earnest from the stands. Here, about 60 Generation Xers,
sporting tattoos and nose rings, were whooping it up.

Fans planted themselves in front of TVs scattered around the warehouse to watch the video feed of Tyrr and
Sherman. Others crowded around the two kitchens, which, unlike the TV show, were not side-by-side, but in
separate parts of the warehouse.

In perfect character, four fans took their places at the table as the panel of judges. One portrayed Kishi Asako,
the ``East German Judge,'' so nicknamed because she's notorious for tearing apart each dish. Another,
dressed in dark glasses and a fur coat, played the ubiquitous ``Actress Babe Judge.'' Another, the ``Beefcake
Actor/Photographer Judge.'' And -- poor taste aside -- another, with soot on his face and dressed in a singed
suit, played the judge who, in real life, died last year in a house fire in Japan.

Organizer Todd Evans, a 28-year-old Web designer who lent his warehouse loft for the event, played the
show's host, Kaga Takeshi, otherwise known as ``Liberace on speed'' because of his flamboyant wardrobe.
Dressed appropriately enough in a black sequined jacket, Evans acted out the show's opening, picking up a
yellow bell pepper, turning to the camera, and taking a bite with rabid glee.

With a wave of his arm, Evans sent a specially rigged, red-satin draped table carrying the secret ingredient into
view. As fans waited on pins and needles -- sort of -- he pulled aside the satin to reveal the mountain of matzo
boxes.

As the ``Gong of Fate'' sounded, ``Battle Matzo'' was under way, with the Iron Chef's nouvelle cuisine going
up against the challenger's home-style cooking.

Aided by a couple of assistants, the chefs began buzzing around their respective kitchens, slicing asparagus,
chopping garlic, skewering poussins and simmering homemade stock.

The crowd roared as the camera zoomed in on the Iron Chef whacking open a box of matzo with a huge
10-inch cleaver.

And laughter erupted as some of the most commonly used kitchen gadgets on the show were put into action.

``Oh, are they turning on the rice cooker?'' a judge asks, excitedly. ``And what's this? Is that the ice cream
maker?''

Like the TV show, where rice cookers have malfunctioned and assistants have dropped just-made ice cream
on the floor, this version was not without its calamities. At one point, a shelf of pots nearly toppled to the
floor in the Iron Chef's kitchen. And so much electricity was being used that fuses were blown left and right.
The Iron Chef's oven actually went dead, forcing her to scrap two dishes.

But none of that prevented anyone from getting in on the act. The crowd counted down the final seconds,
hollering crazily when time was up and the dishes were brought out.

First, the challenger's dishes: matzos with spiced mango charoset, hummus and roasted red pepper spreads;
Cajun spiced matzo balls in vegetarian consomme; vegetable and ricotta matzo lasagne; Dutch-oven steamed
stuffed fish; and layered pear ice cream matzo torte.

And from the Iron Chef: matzo sour cherry cappuccino (sour cherry chicken stock with matzo balls and
``foamed'' beet juice); matzo brei with California fresh corn, herbed cured salmon and wasabi aioli; matzo
farfel popover with Sonoma goat cheese and lavender honey, fig and rosemary walnut jam; matzo pot pie and
seared duck breast with mango and foie gras medallions; and matzo cakes with white truffle mascarpone and
meyer lemons, served with black truffle matzo ice cream.

As dish upon dish arrived, the judges swooned, look puzzled or nitpicked. When the ``East German Judge''
says of the challenger's consomme, ``More attention could have been given to the broth,'' the audience gasps.

The ``Beefcake Actor/Photographer,'' in ecstasy after the first spoonful of the challenger's ice cream torte,
could mutter only, ``Oh my! Ohhhhhhh myyyyy!''

The Iron Chef seemed to slip a notch with the matzo brei, which she had to scramble on the stove top instead
of bake when her oven malfunctioned. But she picked up momentum with her black truffle matzo ice cream,
which left the ``Singed Judge'' sighing, ``We are speechless!''

At the end, the scores were tabulated. And the winner? Iron Chef California. By all of 2 points.

``It has been an extremely strenuous night,'' host Evans says. ``But flavor, taste and love prevailed.''

``The food was so good,'' the ``Singed Judge'' adds. ``We are ready for a nap.''

Morrisa Sherman's layered pear ice cream matzo torte

4 assorted pears, soft but not overripe, anjou, red, and/or comice, peeled, cored and sliced thin

1 cup pear brandy (such as Bonny Doon)
6 unsalted matzos
1/2 gallon vanilla ice cream, defrosted until spreadable
2 jars of dark chocolate fudge sauce

Soak sliced pears in pear brandy. Grease an 8-inch square baking pan (hazelnut oil is nice, but any light oil or
butter will do). Cover bottom of pan with 2 matzos; break them to fit the pan. Spread matzo with thin layer of
ice cream. Spread ice cream with layer of fudge sauce. Cover fudge sauce with a layer of the pears. Cover
pears with a layer of matzo; and repeat layers for a second time. Do not discard brandy. Cover with one last
layer of matzo and drizzle with remaining pear brandy. Cut into squares. Place one square on each plate.
Garnish with a mini pear, sliced thin and fanned. Sprinkle with chocolate shavings or bits. (using chocolate
that is 70 percent cocoa). Serves 6.

Iron Chef Tanith Tyrr's matzo popover

For popover:
1 1/2 cups farfel or coarse matzo crumbs
1 tablespoon rendered chicken or duck fat, melted, plus 1 tablespoon for greasing
2 eggs
Additional 2 eggs, separated, whites beaten to soft peaks
For jam:
1 teaspoon butter
1/2 cup fresh figs, halved with stems removed
1 teaspoon sugar
(or 1/2 cup rehydrated dried figs and 1/2 teaspoon sugar)
1 teaspoon fresh rosemary
1/4 cup walnuts, coarsely crumbled
For garnish:
1/4 cup lavender honey
8 ounces California goat cheese (fresh chevre)

Fresh lavender or rosemary blossoms, or dried food-grade lavender

To make popover: Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Moisten crumbs thoroughly with hot chicken or duck
stock, and add the eggs and egg yolks and melted fat. Blend thoroughly. Gently fold in the beaten egg whites.
Place in well-greased 8-inch souffle dish and bake for 30 minutes or until well puffed but still moist.

To make jam: Melt butter in small skillet on medium heat before adding the figs. Sprinkle the sugar and
rosemary over the figs and cook, stirring often, for about 5 minutes or until the figs exude most of their
moisture. Add the walnuts to toast when most of the free liquid in the pan has been caramelized, and toss
thoroughly. Remove from the heat and set aside.

To assemble: Remove the puffed popover from the souffle plate. Cut attractive serving rounds with a cookie
cutter. (The popover will fall when you remove it from the oven and cut it into rounds. Cooked correctly, this
dish is denser than a true souffle and retains moisture and texture when removed and sliced.) Place one round
on each plate with some of the creamy goat cheese. Drizzle lavender honey over the chevre, and top with the
edible flowers. Serve with a spoonful of the fig, rosemary and walnut jam. Serves 5 as an appetizer.