<Culinary Class Wars>: the powerful influence of cooking survival shows

The combination of food and the survival format has long been a staple theme in entertainment shows, from blockbuster cooking survival programs like <MasterChef Korea> and <Korean Food Grand Prix> to standardized cooking competition shows like <Please Take Care of My Refrigerator> and <Fun-Staurant>. At a time when this formula had become so familiar that it seemed no longer capable of offering novelty, a maverick, unorthodox cooking survival show called <Culinary Class Wars> appeared out of the blue. In this cooking survival show, chefs are divided into classes—designating Michelin-starred chefs, master chefs, and media-famous chefs as the “White Spoons (equivalent to silver spoons)” and skilled but little-known challengers such as so-called hidden masters and local restaurant owners as the “Black Spoons (wooden spoons)”—and pitted against each other.
Although it simply added the new format of black-versus-white competition, this approach unexpectedly generated fresh curiosity. Would matches between Black Spoons and White Spoons naturally lead to victories for the White Spoons? If they were to be paired as teams, what kind of chemistry would emerge? Would mastery prevail against fresh, unconventional attempts? The results were a resounding success. Season 1 created a huge stir overseas as well, and the star chefs who emerged from the show went on to appear on various programs—sustaining their popularity—while the restaurants they operated also enjoyed a boom. It went beyond the level of content success and wielded a powerful influence that transformed real-world industries. Season 2, returning just a year later, is demonstrating the same power. SNS is already buzzing, and reservations at their restaurants are flooding in.

Provocative competition, and wins and losses? Process and story won

In fact, dividing people into black-and-white classes in itself is something that can unsettle the competing chefs. From the very start, the White Spoons appear from above, bathed in spotlights as if deities were descending from heaven, unlike the Black Spoons. Likewise, in the first mission, while Black Spoons strive to pass the first round by presenting the dishes they are most confident about, White Spoons watch them from above. Once the head-to-head battles begins with “blind tests,” however, it is actually the White Spoons who are on edge. In those blind tests where their reputation is stripped away and only taste determines victory, we witness White Spoons losing to Black Spoons. Here, the black-and-white class structure is shattered by “fair rules.” Viewers are thrilled at the sight of Black Spoons defeating White Spoons and are moved by the magnanimity of the defeated White Spoons conceding defeat and hailing the underdog’s victory. <Culinary Class Wars> shows that emotion derived from the process and story carries far greater power than stimulation from competition and wins and losses.
That is why, in Season 1, Edward Lee, a Korean American who expressed his identity through food in the narrative of the “bibimbap persona,” became beloved as much as the winner Napoli Mafia. Likewise, in Season 2, Chef Deok-juk Hu—who was respected as a “master” by contestant chefs although he did not reach the finals—and Chef Choi Kang-rok, who was eliminated in Season 1 but returned and ultimately claimed victory, also rose to stardom for the same reason. Although it is a survival show, the way it highlights not only the winners but also the narratives of the losers through their individual stories is a major reason the show produces stars such as Chef Jong-won Son—who gained popularity despite being eliminated midway—and Jumo Yoon, who brews traditional liquor. Viewers’ hearts were moved by the stories embedded in the contestants’ journeys of challenge, encapsulated in phrases like “lost but fought well” and “what matters is not losing heart.”

Ultimately, it is the subtle difference that moves the audience’s hearts

Survival programs by nature are more provocative than other formats. After all, they are structured around competition with someone else as well as the determination of winners and losers. Still, identifying what viewers want to see in this fierce survival setting is what makes the subtle difference in its power. While Western survival shows often follow sharp conflicts among contestants and dopamine-inducing stimulation, <Culinary Class Wars> brings Korean competitive realities into the program but chooses heartwarming narratives that transcend such competition.
The program reenacts the Korean reality of the so-called “spoon class theory” wherein one’s future is determined by the spoon that one is born holding by dividing contestants into black and white classes; by showing that this ultimately has little meaning in actual competition, however, it offers the audience a sense of catharsis. It portrays stories of dramatic upset victories wherein Black Spoon “The Cooking Monster” defeats White Spoon Son Jong-won despite the senior-junior hierarchy, at the same time including universal stories such as senior figures like Chef Deok-juk Hu showing strong performances to the very end. In other words, black-and-white classes divided by experience, age, and fame are nothing more than the different colors that each individual chef has.
Thus, in <Culinary Class Wars>, White Spoon or Black Spoon, winner or not, star chefs are born through the process itself. The public offers generous applause not only for the victories achieved through bold challenges but also for dignified defeats. It soothes the hearts of audiences weary of outcome-obsessed thinking and spoon-class theory. Ultimately, the power that makes viewers cheer for the chefs and even visit their restaurants stems from captivating viewers through process and story rather than merely competing and winning. Perhaps the true power that moves others’ hearts and leads to action begins here. This is a point worth reflecting on for all of us who live constantly amid competition.