Oh, Top Chef, what fresh nonsense was that? Yippee ki-yay, mothercheffers.
But before we get to…whatever that was, allow me to FORMALLY OBJECT to having to recap a show that is on at the exact same time as American Horror Story. Is anybody else watching that? It’s bananas. Absolute off-the-wall Donkey-Kong level bananas. I can’t even tell for sure if the show is actually any GOOD or not, because it’s just that bonkers. AND I LOVE IT SO HARD. And now I have to wait until Thursday nights to watch it. Boo! (Says the ghost.)
(And “I’LL KILL YOU,” says the other ghost.)
(And “I’LL SEX YOU FIRST THEN KILL YOU,” says the ghost in the gimp suit.)
(Seriously: B-A-N-A-N-A-S.)
Anyway! Top Chef! Which has decided to go all American-Idol on us and incorporate the audition process into the actual show. 29 chefs show up in Texas, all pleased as punch with themselves for making the cut…only to immediately learn that they did not, in fact, make the cut. It’s…quite brutal, actually.
And I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it, because Top Chef has always (okay, usually and/or most of the time) been above this kind of reality-show-torture-porn gimmick. You show up, you cook your butt off, you (usually and/or most of the time) stick around until you mess up. Now they’re just cramming as much heartbreak as they can up front, but it’s all people we don’t know or really care about, so…that’s okay? Except that all I could think about was how many of these people probably made major life/career sacrifices to participate, saying goodbye to children and all that, only to get sent home within 24 hours with their tails between their legs.
On the other hand, though, I can’t deny that I was massively entertained by the whole trainwreck. I just…maybe wouldn’t have felt so yicky about being entertained if the show had just told the poor saps that they hadn’t officially been cast and would need to show up and qualify on-camera.
Okay, enough with my existential/moral dilemma! Let’s shuck through this episode and find stuff to talk about. Obviously I am not wasting any of our time with a blow-by-blow recap of who all these fools are and who went home because TWENTY. FREAKING. NINE. OF. THEM. And we didn’t even get to all of them yet! The Qualifying Challenges will continue next week, when the final group competes, AND THEN the “on the bubble” group competes. For what will likely end up being one or two spots, if that. Twenty people cooked last night, 11 were given jackets, five were sent home and four were put in the Maybe Pile. So my Computron 5000 tells me that there are still nine chefs who can immediately snag one of the five remaining spots before the “on the bubble” folks get another crack at impressing the judges.
(Who wants to bet we’re gonna end up with more than 16 cheftestants the season? I would lay cash money on it, honestly.)
SCHADENFREUDE MOMENT OF THE NIGHT WEEK DECADE:
When Mr. Personal Chef To Many Celebrities & Media Personalities Who Wrote His Own Cookbook In Three Weeks got sent home like, 15 minutes into the challenge for being unable to butcher properly. “I find your lack of skills disturbing,” quoth Darth Tom Colicchio, “And your destruction of a fellow contestant’s pork loin to be a huge dick move. Get out of my kitchen, you punk.”
That was pretty awesome, no?
(P.S. His “written in three weeks cookbook” was of the self-published variety, according to Amazon. Or a “limited edition,” according to his website. Oy, good riddance.)
Most of the other eliminations ran the usual gamut of meh execution to crappy plating errors. Soup count stands at three, if you’re keeping track and/or playing that particular drinking game. (And I counted one Duo and two Trios, if the soup game isn’t getting you drunk enough.) Emeril Lagasse was a surprisingly low-key judge and seemed even a little nervous on camera, which I was not expecting. Gail Simmons was…Gail-y and Padma Lakshmi served no purpose. (They should just hand the hosting reins to Tom, honestly.)
It was interesting to see how quickly most of the self-taught underdogs were crushed by the James Beard nominees and assorted Robuchon/Bayless/Acheson proteges. With the notable exception of Keith Rhodes, who actually learned to cook in prison. Like, while-he-was-incarcerated prison-prison. And while I usually try to stay above the manipulations of Cheftestants With A Good Story stuff, I can’t lie that I was totally rooting for him, and was happy when he made it through.
You will never be this cool.
The Chicago contingent also put in a very good showing, with four of the 11 cheftestants being from the city, and two of them being from the same restaurant. It’s the Voltaggi with…oddly opposite yet complimentary hairstyles:
The one on the left looks like a mushroom. The other one looks like someone applied his hair with a piping bag.
Anyway, you can see the 11-so-far chefs here, but obviously we only have a slightly better impression of them than we usually do, when Bravo tosses up the photos and bios a week before the premiere. One guy’s name is Ty-Lor Boring. He is from Brooklyn and is literally a walking Internet Hipster Meme.
I'm into root vegetables. You've probably never heard of them. They grow underground.
Next week: One more Qualifying Challenge, and then the on-the-bubble folks will cook again. Or fight to the death, Hunger Games style, armed with knives and pressure cookers and bloody shanks of beef.
Also: The Samsung commercials featuring previous contestants and winners making sandwiches from Gladware-encased cold cuts? What in the what?
About amalah
