Lights, Camera, Cook
Food pros learn how to present food on camera and online
By Jolene Thym, FOOD WRITER
October 18, 2006
TO THE CASUAL OBSERVER, the bright, oversized kitchen in Tante Marie's home in San Francisco is a picture of calm, bathed in sunshine and awash in flowers and herbs.
For others, it is a room divided. On one side of the expansive counter are smiles, friendly chatter and confidence. Step to the other side and smiles become forced, movements awkward. Words literally freeze on the tongue.
The reason? The kitchen has been transformed into a fully equipped television studio, complete with lights, cameras and a kitchen set where novices can see what it's like to star in their own professional-quality TV or online cooking show.
As producers tweak the set and adjust camera angles, Ron Siegel, executive chef at The Dining Room at The Ritz-Carlton, San Francisco, admits he is — at best— an unwilling participant in this whole chef-TV deal. In fact, he did everything he could to get out of attending "Pro Media Coach: Cooking On Camera."
"I even tried to cancel out late last night, but my boss wouldn't let me," he says with a smile. "The Internet and video is the future. I might as well learn something about it."
The "Cooking On Camera" workshop, open to anyone who wants to build their on-camera skills, costs $1,500. But the daylong adventure includes a how-to seminar, a professional critique and lots of advice and encouragement. Participants also walk away with an expertly produced master tape that can be aired on television or on the Web.
Today's students include two professional chefs, a cookbook author who hopes to one day have her own television show and three on-camera chefs from Chow, a magazine-turned-cooking Web site that was recently acquired by CNet. All except the author have been on camera before, with varying degrees of success.
First up is Siegel, who has offered to be the guinea pig performer, demonstrating how to make a perfect omelet behind the camera, but with the cameras off. A former "Iron Chef" champion, Siegel delivers his demo seamlessly. After some initial hesitation, it turns out he's a natural on camera.
"Teflon pans are for the weak. They are terrible. They flake and wear out. All you need is one heavy stainless pan. It will last the rest of your life." The omelet complete, Siegel moves on to his on-camera demo.
"So what we're going to do today is make a little lamb dish and a vegetable," Siegel says. For the next two minutes, he dices eggplant, minces herbs and gives short lectures about good knives, Teflon pans and salting in stages.
Even though he's been instructed to keep all movements close to the counter, he instinctively scoops some herbs on his butcher knife and lifts it toward the camera so his audience can get a closer look.
"Cut, cut, cut!" hollers Christina Ricci, executive producer and cofounder of Pro Media Coach. She smiles politely, but this is serious business. She's already told her students not to move out of camera range. She repeats her instruction as gently as possible.
"OK, quiet on the set!"
As the tape rolls and captures every nuance of a daylong string of cooking demonstrations — and mistakes — one thing becomes painfully clear. No matter how glib or how deft, being a great TV chef is an acquired skill, one that requires good instruction and lots of practice.
This simple reality is the reason Ricci and Jane Lurie, seasoned pros at producing, writing, shooting and editing after working for many years in major market television, started Pro Media Coach. Their Oakland-based video production and media-training company, which specializes in coaching food business professionals, produces video that can be used on participants' Web sites and in media kits.
"We started this because we saw that there was a need," Ricci says. "I have worked with so many people who are fantastic chefs and great people, but when they get on camera they freeze." Even celebrity chefs such as Nigella Lawson, Jacques Pepin and Jamie Oliver benefit from coaching, she says.
"I believe anyone who wants to promote their food has to know how to do video. Acting natural on camera is a skill. A few people know how to do it instinctively, but very few. In my career, I've met about three or four."
The two have coached hundreds of chefs and cooks through kitchen flops, kitchen disasters and even minor injuries. "Once we had a chef who insisted on holding the creme brulee as he browned it with his torch," Ricci said. "He singed all the hair off his arm, but we kept rolling tape."
Teaching time
Siegel's segments — both on camera and off — continue to provide teaching opportunities for the instructors.
"When you have something you need to get rid of, just put it off to the side where the camera can't see it," Ricci says.
"People will have no idea what you're doing with it. You could even just drop it on the floor."
Siegel stares in disbelief.
"Drop the egg on the floor?"
"Yes, that's not a big problem," Ricci confirms. The entire room breaks into a chuckle.
By the time Siegel steps to the comfortable side of the room, the class has learned never to use a garlic press, and to beware of lamb if you carve it before it has had time to rest. It just may squirt blood all over the front of you, which likely is not the kind of image a food television watcher is hoping to see.
"When you tape a food show, you always want to keep your core audience in mind," Ricci told the group. "You really don't want to show a lot of carcasses and that sort of thing. Realize that a lot of people eat off a microwave plate. They don't want to know where their food comes from."
Other tips include avoiding white at all costs, which means opting for colored dishes and brown eggs; and to make sure to think through every move and every word of your script the night before.
"You don't want any surprises," Ricci says. "And you don't want to have dead time in your video. You want to have your pan hot and ready to go. You can't wait for it to heat."
As the morning progresses into afternoon, the students each take a turn front and center, cameras rolling. With each demo, the tapings seem to proceed quicker, with fewer stops and starts — likely because it's easy to avoid mistakes you saw someone else make just a moment before.
"In reality, there are only about 20 mistakes people make in front of the camera," Ricci says. "If the students watch each other, they will probably see all of them."
Just before his time to tape, Ty Mahler, executive chef at Roy's in San Francisco, shares his motivation for taking the class.
"I've done some live demos before so I'm familiar with the format, but I want to be sure that I am up to speed," he says. "If I'm good at being on camera, then I will get to pick and choose which events I say yes' to. A lot of the chef events are a lot of fun, and they put me in the same field as chefs like Ron. I like that."
Off and running
Mahler's enthusiasm for being on camera is evident in his performance. He takes off like a race car at the starting line, skidding past introductions, and into the task of assembling his dish, Hawaiian-style Poke. He grabs the knife and whacks the top off his tuna before anyone can stop him.
"Whoa, whoa!" Ricci calls. "Cut, cut. Ty, can you take it down a little? Just slow down. And be sure to tell us who you are first, then what you are going to do. SLOW. Give us lots of information." The tape rolls again and Mahler delivers.
By the time he is done, everyone in the room wants to grab that cocktail glass of poke for a taste. But they don't. Instead, they press the chef for details about what spice is what and where they might be able to buy it.
"The one thing that people often do on a show like this is they stop talking to complete a task," Ricci says. "You don't ever want to do that. You need to use all of that time to give information about what you are doing.
"We always tell people to work to the camera," Ricci adds. "Show everything to the camera. Remember that there are some people out there who know more than you do, but not that many. Maybe five."
Another common problem, Lurie adds, is not addressing the camera at all times. "One thing that people tend to do is to talk to themselves while they are cooking. They might make snide comments or swear. You can't do that. We tell chefs not to go inside of themselves."
Perhaps the most tentative TV chef of the day is Najmieh Batmanglij, a Persian cook, teacher and author of several Persian cookbooks, including "From Persia to Napa: Wine at the Persian Table" (Mage, $50). Batmanglij, who lives in Washington D.C., has come to California to take the oncamera workshop and to give a presentation at COPIA in Napa the next day.
"I teach about Persian cooking because a lot of young people want to know about it. I teach them how to make baklava in 20 minutes.
"I want to teach people about Persian food because I believe that it is the most sophisticated cuisine in the world, and it deserves a lot more attention. I believe it is good for my children and other young people to be proud of their heritage and their cuisine."
An hour before her turn behind the camera, Batmanglij realizes she will never be able to complete her olive-nutpomegranate dish on camera if she doesn't do some mincing, chopping and mashing ahead of time.
She grabs help anywhere she can, asking for volunteers to wash and sort cilantro, chop olives and walnuts, transfer ingredients from one end of the room to another, and to run to the local market for a forgotten ingredient.
Despite the slightly chaotic taping experience, Batmanglij's attention to detail pays off. Her cooking video — the first of the group to be edited and delivered — depicts a confident cook who is passionate about the rich, exotic flavors that make Persian food unique.
Even though it's not possible for someone to learn everything about video from a single session, Ricci says that most of their workshop participants learn much more than they think they will.
"Just doing it that first time is so important. A person who is being taped has to work in three or four dimensions all at the same time. They are listening, correcting, and trying to get their body language right. They have to block out everything else in the room and say what they wanted to say. It's not easy."
Chow crew
Last up are the most confident and most experienced of the group, the trio from Chow. The recent switch from print to Web has added video to their plates.
"I understand the tone of Chow, but now I have to figure out how to translate that into video," says Meredith Arthur, the cameraperson for the Web site.
Her colleagues, associate food editors Regan Burns and Aida Mollenkamp, echo Arthur's sentiments.
"I think one of the things I'm looking to understand better is how to address the audience," Mollenkamp says. "I want to know if I talk to them or if it should be a more proper tone."
The tone of Chow is particularly important since the site is aimed at a mixed audience. Some cook, but many don't. As the three pitch in to set up their first demo, they realize that there is a glitch. There is no pie plate.
"We need a pie plate!" Ricci tells the room. A volunteer dashes out, and the two demos for the group are swapped. No time is lost.
"This is how it is on a TV set. It's chaotic. It's confusing. In the end, all these little details don't really matter," Ricci says. "The most important thing about being on camera is to be authentic."
For information, call (510) 402-8757 or visit www.promediacoach.com.
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