The Chew: Fall Flavors: More than 20 Seasonal Recipes from The Chew Kitchen

Mark Schneider, who makes sure that every step this show takes is perfectly planned and executed. Without his meticulous eye for detail, the show would have no lights, no cameras, and no ovens.

Aimee Rosen Houselholder, our midwife/producer with extraordinary creative instincts, who cheerily provides midnight rewrites and big, bold ideas. Without you nothing would be in the ovens.

Pat De Fazio, you cut and pasted the emerging face of the show, frame by frame, and set us on a glide path to Victual Valhalla. You have the skill and speed of a caffeinated ninja.

Paul Starke, you were born to produce this show (or be the worlds leading sit-down comic). You show us every day how far you can push a plate of pasta into an hour of broadcasting fun.

Randy Barone, youre a gift from ABC to the show, a vice president who got it from the start and a full creative partner in birthing the biggest TV food program in the world. Its a kick to do it with you every day.

Brian Frons, we owe you a huge personal debt. You believed in us personally and professionally from day one. It was your wise, experienced voice that steadied our rudder during those early days of confusion.

Anne Sweeney. Because every project needs someone with the courage to throw the big switch. No one had ever done this kind of show, but you understood it immediately. Without your support and belief, there would never have been a Chew. It was your vision of bringing people back to the family table that made this show a reality.

Sophie Elliott, who has listened lovingly to hundreds of hours of bad ideas over the years and provided insight and support to create the good oneslike The Chew. X.

The CHEW was created in about 20 minutes, like a fully formed song just waiting to be written by a hungover rock star. Brian Frons, then head of ABC daytime, a lovely man, was chatting with me one day and threw out the question, What would you do with an hour on ABC daytime?

Being a cable TV producer, it was rare anyone asked my opinion of anything. I had one shot and nothing to lose, so I began a stream of consciousness ramble that had been running around my head for years.

I had always imagined a group of friends with lifestyle skills, wit, and real camaraderie that could show viewers how to get a little more out of their daily routines. Not fancy stuff, not expensive, just how to get through the day with a better meal, a smarter choice, a useful tip, a few laughs. If it was done right, I hoped it would feel like a party in the kitchen. TV that made you feel the time you spent watching wasnt wasted.

Brian paused. I imagined Id bored him rigid by this point.

What would you call it?

The name was pure cheek.

Well, its a mix of food and a group host format like The View, so The Chew seems blindly obvious.

I figured he thought I was just kidding around. Neither of us was. The Chew was born.

I immediately sat down with the very smart Mark Schneider, my managing director and trusted consigliere. Our usual easy collaboration made it all look doable. Without him it would have been a nightmare. I took a deep breath and made a casting note to myself. I imagined a group of friends effortlessly preparing dinner, splashing Chardonnay and laughter with each other. I wrote the type of characters they would belike a scene from The Big Chill.

The host of the partygenerous, witty, and well rounded.

The funny guy with a cheeky point of view but also something solid to him.

The curious younger woman with a mix of humility and smarts.

The mother love figure with life under her belt but still laughs easily.

The older guy with wisdom and skillthe father figure.

Things began to come together quickly. Randy Barone, the shows eventual godfather at ABC, rushed into my office the first week of casting with a tape of Daphne Oz. She had just made her first-ever appearance on her fathers TV program, The Dr. Oz Show. Her poise, humor, and humility were obvious. We had coffee. She wasnt looking to be on TV; she wanted to study and write. She was not overeager, like a presidential nominee who doesnt seem to want the gig. This only made her an even more attractive candidate.

Similar to many women, her relationship with food was complex. She had faced terrible insecurity about her body image growing up and knew that constant dieting only fed the beastpun intended. Daphne eventually found a daily routine that helped her shed her excess 30 pounds and keep it off permanently. She then wrote a book about her search and solutions. It was a New York Times bestseller. Not bad for a twenty-three-year-old.

Daphne was newly married, curious, practical, and looking for balancein her body, work, food, and career. Add a wicked sense of humor and an ability to give as good as she got and you understand why I called her the following day and offered her the job. One down, four to go.

The easy ones? Michael Symon and Mario Batali, two of the most congenial cooks ever to grace the tube. Mariolike Madonnaneeds only a first name to identify him to millions of fans of his television and restaurant empire. Michaels stellar reputation was forged in the fires of Iron Chef, and he is the master of a heartland domain of successful and terrific restaurants. Working with them over the years, I knew what cheeky, funny men they were. Stylishly competent, they made cooking in stultifying kitchens eight days a week look sexy. Blunt but charming with hearts the size of holiday hams, they were huge TV stars in their own right. That was the problem. They had great lives and didnt need the money, the extra fame, or the time away from their families.

But I knew their weakness. Like all great chefs, they are both congenital pleasers. They live to make people happy. I explained this was their dream show. A chance to tell their stories and cook their food in real time, to hang out together and show folks how fun cooking can be. That and a couple pounds of fifty-dollar bills helped do the trick.

From the first time I saw Carla Hall on Top Chef, I could see she didnt cook to impress the judges as much as she grooved on her blend of food, love, and soul and the audience sensed it. Like Michael and Mario, nothing makes her happier than standing next to a new friend and showing them a long-learned recipe. She takes them into her calming, comforting world. I needed that magic on the show. I called, she screamed. I found out later she screams a lot. Her joy is high volume.

Clinton came out of the blue at the last moment. We were a week away from announcing the show and still lacked a master of ceremonies. I was starting to sweat and began checking my list of usual suspects when Randy Barone threw open my door again and walked in with Clinton Kelly, fresh from his appearance on The View promoting his relationship with Macys as the companys spokesman. He walked into the room with a confident grin and a hilarious story, sweeping everyone off their feet and into party mode. I had never seen him on TV before and was staggered by how naturally he fit in. He was a true natural host. He listened carefully and, with the mental suppleness of a Russian gymnast, directed conversation to a graceful point, making people feel funnier than they really were. I was as excited as a fat boy in a bakery. I couldnt wait to bring them all together and see if they liked one another as much as I liked them individually.