My Hero Jeff Mauro, the sandwich king
My middle school days coincided with what I have calculated to be the height of the Food Network’s reality gameshow stint. We’re talking the inaugural seasons of timeless classics like Chopped, Cupcake Wars, The Great Food Truck Race, Iron Chef, and the holy grail: Food Network Star. Yes, I can acknowledge that Iron Chef has one of the best intros of all time. Yes, beating Bobby Flay circa 2008 seemed comparable to winning a gold medal at the Beijing Olympics, but the winner of Food Network Star got their own TV show!
Because this prize was so mind-blowing for my twelve-year-old self, an aspiring film star, I was often flummoxed by how bad the contestants were at speaking on camera. We’re talking CATS the movie kinda bad. Public speaking obviously hadn’t been an integral part of the chefs’ culinary training.
Their discomfort on-screen lead to flustered conversations with judges, uncomfortable silences in their on-camera segments, and their inevitable dismissal from the competition. Still, there were a few standout performers every season, and Jeff Mauro quickly made himself someone to remember.
In the first few weeks of the competition, contestants usually tried to impress the judges with show-stopping dishes and presentations. Jeff walked in on day one and made the judges a freakin’ sandwich. And they loved it. Because Jeff knew what the others didn’t: it’s not about the food. The best chef is hardly ever the one to win the competition, because hosting a show on the Food Network requires far more than just culinary skill. Storytelling drove Jeff to the top.
Not only was he charismatic on and off camera, but he also knew what he wanted to cook and why. The same day he made that first sandwich he proclaimed himself “The Sandwich King.” Jeff knew how to craft his story and sell it, and this skill was far more appealing than any well-plated dish.
Throughout the season, Jeff rejected criticisms that there wasn't enough to say about sandwiches. He argued that they could easily fill out an entire show, because any handheld "meal" could be classified as a sandwich. And for awhile, this mantra pushed him forward. His simple subs beat out duck confits and prime ribs, elegant entrées and gourmet appetizers alike.
Still, it wasn’t until mid-season that Jeff solidified himself as my idol. The week’s theme? Desserts. Judge Bobby Flay, who thought Jeff was boxing himself in with the whole “everything is a sandwich” concept, smiled smugly. He thought the jig was up. Sandwiches don’t make tasty desserts after all! What could our hero do now?
This moment would have been an understandably easy time for Jeff to give up. He could have said “Okay, fine. I’ll show the judges I can cook things other than sandwiches, and then I’ll go back to making subs next week.” But if he’d strayed from his story then he wouldn’t be the self-proclaimed Sandwich King. Jeff was on the edge of glory, and his next move, though he didn’t know it at the time, would define his career. So how did this Sisyphus conquer the mountain?
He made whoopee pies.
As in, dessert sandwiches.
Thus, his brand was crystalized. By adapting his story to a new situation instead of trying to start from scratch, Jeff was able to prove his versatility. In this way, I believe we can all take something away from the Sandwich King. It’s not about changing yourself to fit every challenge, it’s about using the challenge to showcase your strengths.
The problem with the other seemingly un-charismatic chefs wasn’t usually their ability to speak in public, it was their lack of storytelling. They didn’t have a vision for what made their cooking stand out from the pack, and too often they relied on their dish’s taste to make it to the next round. However, when it comes to selling food on TV, the audience can’t taste it themselves. You can’t rely on flavor alone- no matter how high the quality of your product. You must become a great storyteller; one who can make your audience get to know you and your product through vivid language.
In his triumphant final challenge, Jeff proved he knew how to package himself and his show into a thirty-second pitch for Rachel Ray. He clinched his win with the final phrase: “I’m going to show you how to make any sandwich into a meal, and any meal into a sandwich.” Once again, Jeff’s ability to market himself and his cooking in a unique way proved to be the mark of a true star, and the judges rewarded him for it.
The name of his show? “The Sandwich King,” of course.
It was only after his win that I discovered Jeff Mauro had graduated from my high school. Fortuitously, he came back the two years later to serve as a speaker in our annual “Tribute to Excellence” ceremony for prestigious alumni. He cracked jokes about the cafeteria food and encouraged us to chase our dreams, but most importantly he urged us to get to know ourselves. He made me realize that when you understand your own story, what makes you unique, you can turn it into a superpower. It may not be sandwiches, but a well-crafted story can be just as appetizing.