Top Chef Masters: Losers, Lectures, and Low-Cal

Ok, I’m just going to come out and say it because time is precious and we all have to wake up early tomorrow and watch two perfectly nice seeming people promise to breed for the purpose of giving us further generations to ogle obsessively:

Anyone else feel like the critics are protecting Mary Sue?

I mean, last week, she made a pickle-y tasting ceviche and stayed. This week, there seemed to be a raft of issues with her egg and hash, and she stayed.

I’m not saying Suvir shouldn’t have been the ouster – he absolutely should’ve, given that he deliberately flouted the intentions of the challenge by making a dish that was nothing like what his client wanted.

But I feel like. . .ok, I feel like this season is trying to get a female Top Chef Master. I’ve already said the chefs for this season seem like a somewhat lower caliber than the past Masters; two clear exceptions to that would be Mary Sue, who’s been asked to be on previous seasons and whose partner was on last season, and Traci des Jardins. I feel like the deck is stacked in their favor already, and with Mary Sue in the bottom group twice now, I feel like they’re hedging the judging a bit to keep her safe in the early rounds.

Anyway. Suvir, I will miss you and your funny delivery that made not so funny lines hilarious. Now all we’ve got in the way of character is Hugh and his trying-too-hard attempts at humor.

The episode as a whole. . .I like the idea of the challenge. It reminds me of the challenge the Top Chef: Original Recipe Season 2 cheftestants did when they cooked for the overweight camp kids. Where it fell down a bit for me was in focusing solely on calories without taking into account any other nutritional factors (vitamin content, protein, fibre, etc) , but that’s where a lot of weight loss shows and programs fall down – hooray! You’ve only eaten 1500 calories today! Yes, it was 1500 calories of artificial sweeteners and chemical replacements that will probably cause your liver and kidneys to shut down just as quickly as any obesity related illness would, but hey, at least you’ll look good in the coffin, amirite?

I will say that it seemed like the chefs did a really nice job of balancing the dishes – none of them were churning out Hungry Girl bullshit where they tried to convince you that a dish of precut packaged coleslaw with canned tomato soup on it was a substitute for a dish of pasta -- but it would have been nice to see that explicated on the show.

(You all almost got treated to a post of Sandra-esque proportions on the whole Hungry Girl phenomenon, but the three episodes of her show I watched gave me such agitta that I couldn’t pull through with enough “research” to make it happen)

The Biggest Loser tie in was sheer corporate synergy, and that’s fine. I don’t want to talk about the show since I haven’t watched it since the first season (Caroline Rhea saying “now it’s time to cut. The Fat” before each elimination was too cruel for me to handle), so I don’t know much about it, or how it’s changed since or anything. But I do know that it’s more successful than the Bachelor franchise in producing relationships. And that some people say it’s less feel good and benign than it comes across on TV. Let’s leave the whole thing at that and get on with this show.

We open with the chefs entering the kitchen to find Curtis standing near a huge table of artisan cheeses. Yum and double yum – both things look delicious in their own cheezy way. Their challenge is to make a masterful cheese dish. Their guest diner is a cheese connoisseur. The winner gets $5000 and immunity. They have 12 minutes to cook. “It takes me longer to shave,” Hugh tells us. Psssst, Hugh: if it takes you 12 minutes to shave, stretch it an extra minute, and toss the patch between your brows in.

Fromage flurry. I love the idea of a cheese challenge because I love cheese (ok: I’m editing this this morning while listening to the weather forecast, and I just wrote “I love the idea of a cheese shower.” Which, much as I love cheese – no. A cheese shower does not sound pleasant). Naomi is cooking a steak to go with her cheese. Traci is making a “cheese carpacio.” She tells us “when you’re cutting a cheese” [heh] “you want to represent the cheese from the core to the rind, because there are different flavor profiles as you go.” Insert rainbow “the more you know” graphic and chimes here.

George says his parents bringing him back cheese from Portugal is what made him a chef. Floyd is basically making elotes. I have mixed feelings about elotes. They taste fine, but I’d rather just have a good ear of corn with butter, salt and pepper, completely unfucked with. Suvir says his dish is “very Calvin Klein rather than Paul Smith.” I have no idea what this means. Mary Sue has made her own tortillas in 12 minutes. Damn, girl. Traci worries that her dish is pedestrian.

Time! The chefs settle in to watch Curtis and Norbert Wabnig from The Cheese Store of Beverly Hills to eat their dishes. I love that there’s a person named Norbert and he owns a cheese store. I actually love even more that his name is Norbert Wabnig. It’s like his parents were thinking of names that went with Wabnig, and realized “look, the poor kid is fucked sideways regardless,” and so slapped Norbert on him to boot. Anyway, Norbert hopes there’s a balance between cheese and the other elements of the dish.

They begin with Suvir’s Cheese Pakora Two Ways: Mozzarella Di Bufala and Gouda, Tamarind Chutney. “I wonder who made it,” Mary Sue giggles. Norbert isn’t crazy about the presentation. Next we have Celina’s Manchego, Crispy Carrot, Fig, Golden Raisin and Sherry. Norbert thinks it’s very good.

Next is Hugh’s Crisp Camellia Goat Cheese, Fried Quail Egg, Pepper Salad, and Hazelnut Vinaigrette, which Norbert finds “stunning” except for the egg. “Have you had an omelet?” Hugh asks the monitoring screen sarcastically. It’s followed by Naomi’s Chaumes Cheese Toast, Skirt Steak, Apples, Onions, and Balsamic Vinaigrette which Norbert finds “quite good.” “I think it’s a brilliant idea, and I LOVE the cheese.”

I feel like Curtis throws his own opinion into the quickfire judging a lot more than K-Choi ever did. I understand it during the Elimination, since he’s meant to be a host and judge like Padma and Gail rather than just a figurehead like Choi, but there are times – particularly during this challenge – where it feels like he’s really trying to steer the guest judge with his remarks.

We move to Mary Sue’s Cojita and Gouda Cheese Empanada with Tomatillo Salsa. Norbert likes it. George’s Onion and Grana Padano Gratin, Quail Egg, Grilled Bread, and Asparagus is next, but Norbert thinks there’s too much onion. I think there’s too much Quail Egg – this is the second one already -- but my only Quail Egg experience was a negative one (the only negative experience I’ve ever had at Komi), so I’m biased.

Alex has made a Rocchetta and Prosciutto Quesadilla, Pickled Asparagus, and Fried Quail Egg.More Quail Egg? Barf. Find a chicken, people. It has “intense flavor” but “not enough cheese.” The next dish is Floyd’s Cojita Elote: Corn on the Cob, Crème Fraiche, Cojita Cheese and Cayenne Pepper. “A little too much of that pepper,” Norbert says.

Finally, they have Traci’s Colombier and Prosciutto Carpaccio, Arugula, and Croutons. “The cheese truly comes through,” Norbert raves. He thinks all the dishes were very inventive.

He and Curtis move into the kitchen to share his least favorites: Floyd’s elote “went too heavy” with the cayenne, and the onions overpowered George’s dish. Naomi’s Chaum and Traci’s dish are praised, but the winner is . . .Traci! She thanks the cheese for her win, and gets $5000 for La Cocina and immunity. Floyd is pissed that she won for just putting cheese on a plate. Commercial.

Back! Curtis says that as chefs, they constantly strive to create new and exciting dishes. Now they have to do that while creating beautiful food for a calorie conscious diet. He calls in trainers Cara and Brett and Hostess Sami Brady from the Biggest Loser. Wait, who are these Cara and Brett people? I thought the trainers were Mean Jillian and Nice Bob? Granted, I haven’t watched an episode since Caroline Rhea was the host, so I don’t know what I’m talking about.

Anyway, the challenge is to give the Biggest Loser contestants what they’re craving. A tray rolls out with the contestants’ pre-diet favorites – 3 breakfasts, 3 lunches, and 3 dinners, all superladen with fat and calories. The chefs will form 3 teams and prepare new versions of the contestants favorites, making up a full day’s dishes under 1500 calories.

They’re assigned their dishes in the order they’ve lined up, so Naomi gets French Toast with eggs and sausage patties; Celina lands bacon egg and bagel sandwich; and Mary Sue gets corned beef hash. For the lunch group, Traci lands a Chinese buffet (a whole buffet? That seems like an uneven challenge when everyone has one specific dish to make); Floyd gets a meatball sub; and Hugh ends up with roast beef with potatoes. There’s apparently some flexibility in which courses are lunch/dinner, since Alex and Hugh seem to have flipped courses by the time they present, but next we have Alex handed a fried chicken combo with creamed corn and other fixins; Suvir gets a bacon cheeseburger with fries, and George lands the deep dish pizza supreme. AND each team will have to make brownies as well.

The contestants from the Biggest Loser come out and talk to the chefs who have their favorite dishes about what they like about them. Rulan, the French Toast guy has a nostalgic reaction to French Toast. Floyd’s guy, Jay, is from the next town over from his, and they talk about using spice to get more flavor from less calories. Floyd talks about his son’s own struggles with weight.

Alex meets with Fried Chicken loving Hannah, who has lost a shitton of weight and is stunning. Alex tells her about losing 90 pounds after he got cancer. He says helping her would be the greatest thing he could get out of Top Chef Masters. Floyd’s lady, Irene – also stunning – studies in a bar a lot, so she loves pub food. Suvir talks her around to a veggie burger.

The chefs split into teams to sort out how to use their 1500 calories. Floyd, is happy to have George and Naomi on his team. Naomi’s a bit worried because they all have bread/carb heavy dishes.

Hugh, Celina, and Traci are another team. Traci plans on doing “kelp noodles” as part of her Chinese Buffet makeover. “Call them ‘really cool interesting noodles,’” Hugh cautions her, because yeah, kelp noodles sound disastrous.

The final team is Alex, Mary Sue, and Suvir. Their strategy is to do their dishes individually, count up the calories and see what they have left for dessert.

Shopping! The chefs make a late night trip to Whole Foods where they have 30 minutes to shop, and Cara and Brett are on hand to help them count calories. George wincingly buys low fat cheeses. Celina looks at the calorie count on a bagel and talks about her charity Harvesters. “If I vere chickpeas vhere vould I be?” Suvir wonders. I’m going to make that my meditation next time I drag my lazy ass to yoga – if I were chickpeas, where would I be? Naomi is making syrup out of Stevia and is nervous because this is uncharted waters for her. Commercial.

Back. They have an hour and a half to cook and a nutritionist on hand for each team to count their calories for them. Floyd’s team has agreed to keep their dishes each under 500 calories so they have room left for dessert. Hugh is trying to make a dish that’s like someone took “a shrink gun” to his client’s favorite food. Suvir talks about the farm he and his partner have in upstate New York, and the Agricultural Stewardship Association. Mary Sue worries about walking the line between meeting the requirements and meeting the critics’ expectations.

The critics, Sami Brady, and the Biggest Losers enter. As breakfast prepares to go out, Naomi worries that the Stevia has given her food a “weird, bitter aftertaste.” That is probably both the worst and most refreshing piece of product placement I have ever seen on television. Stevia: low in calories; weird, bitter aftertaste. (Has anyone seen that new Morgan Spurlock movie? I’m very curious).

The critics are once again Danyelle, Oseland, and Alan. And breakfast is served: Naomi introduces her French Toast, Berries, Scrambled Eggs, and Turkey Bacon; Mary Sue explains her Turkey-Vegetable Hash and Poached Egg; and Celina has made her Turkey Bacon and Egg Whites on Ezekiel Bagel with Vegetables.

Rulan says the French Toast makes him think of his mom. Sami Brady likes the Stevia syrup, and Alan says it has the “nice sweetness” he was looking for. That’s how you do product placement, Naomi.

Curtis loves Mary Sue’s egg, but it’s a bit underdone for Sami Brady’s taste. The Losers are happy about the Ezekial Bread Celina replaced the bagel with because it has added protein (product placement – yes!), but Curtis finds it dry (product placement – no!), and Oseland says that it really makes him want “fat and salt” (NBC synergy – fail!).

Lunch is next, and Alex has forgotten to put applesauce in the cornbread. He worries that it’ll be dry. They present Floyd’s Buffalo Meatball, Farro, Spinach, Cheese, Tomato Sauce, and Asparagus. Ok, pause for a moment because that sounds DIVINE. I love the hell out of Buffalo – I always feel guilty about eating it, since it was my high school mascot, but it’s freaking delicious. I may have to give this recipe a shot. Anyway, the other courses are Alex’s Oven Fried Chicken, Sweet Potato Puree, Cream Corn and Corn Bread (which looks like a hospital tray, everything in various shades of beige), and Traci’s Beef and Broccoli, Cabbage Salad, Rice, and Wonton Soup.

Oseland says Floyd’s meatball “packs a wallop of flavor” and it is complicated and delicious. Curtis worries that he’ll have to step it up the next time he cooks at the Biggest Loser ranch. Hannah loves the fried chicken, but Oseland says the corn muffin doesn’t have the right texture, and Alan doesn’t think the oven friend chicken is a terrific substitute for fried chicken. Oseland finds Traci’s buffet “a pleasing little mouthful.” Alan says it only satisfies “some of the cravings you have when you want a Chinese buffet.”

The dinner group brings their dishes out: first is George’s Whole Wheat Pizza with Tomato Coulis, Smoked Mozzarella and Vegetables (NOM)); then Suvir presents his Veggie Burger and Asian Slaw. He follows this up with a lecture about the horrors of red meat “red meat is a direct enemy of our hearts and our arteries,” he says. Hugh is pissed that he made this speech right before he got to present his roast beef. Commercial.

Back. Hugh tells them about his Flank Steak, Fingerling Potatoes, and Asparagus Salad which he tells us is “not as sinister as Suvir is making it out to be.” Curtis thanks them and dismisses them. “Maybe you don’t do that right in front of when I’m doing red meat,” Hugh says to Suvir once the doors close. “I would never do that,” he says to Suvir. “I’m sinister, you did plenty,” Suvir says, waving his hands madly.

Sami Brady loves all the veggies on George’s pizza, and Curtis loves the intense flavor from the smoked mozzarella. Irene who wanted the burger says that the veggie burger tastes “potato-y. I like my meat.” Alan loves Hugh’s Flank steak and Irene jokes about putting a portion of the steak on top of her burger to get the meat fix.

We don’t get to hear about anyone’s dessert, but unless we hear about their total calories: the Blue team (Naomi, Floyd, and George) had 1221 calories; Red (Celina, Hugh, and Traci) brought it in at 1263; and the Green Team (Mary Sue, Alex, and Floyd) had 1368.

The chefs settle into the wine room. “It really kicks your butt when you’ve got to cook without any of your normal tricks,” Mary Sue says. “You mean like 5 tons of fat?” Traci jokes. Curtis appears and calls the blue team back to the table.

They are the winning team. They cut nearly 4000 calories from their original items. Naomi talks about how moved she was by her client’s story. Alan tells George his pizza was extremely satisfying. Danyelle tells Floyd his sub was “sexy and exotic.” And Oseland tells Naomi she did a terrific job with the French Toast. And the overall favorite from their team is. ..

. .Floyd! Yay! He gets $10,000 for the Young Scientist Cancer Research Fund.

They return to the wine room, and everyone applauds Floyd's win. George sends back Suvir, Mary Sue, and Alex. They had the weakest dishes.

Suvir says he used his dish to make a statement even though he knew Irene might not like it. Alan thinks he cooked to his strengths, but also cooked for himself and not the diner. Curtis thought it was good, but thinks his statement comparing the increase in meat intake to the obesity epidemic was a bit of a stretch.

Mary Sue explains how she slow-poached her egg. Alan says she got a nice even cook on it, but the yolk didn’t become the sauce the way he wanted it to. Danyelle says her hash mimicked corn beef, but should’ve had a finer dice.

Danyelle didn’t like Alex’s cornbread. He agrees that he shouldn’t have sent it out knowing it was subpar. Oseland wasn’t crazy about the texture of the chicken itself, saying it wasn’t moist. Alex is confused, since he’d thought the yogurt would’ve kept it moist.

The critics deliberate. Oseland says Alex’s sides were “terrible. He turned cream corn into this bizarre baby food consistency thing, that was weirdly sweet and didn’t even taste like corn.” Alan points out that the challenge was to satisfy the Losers’ cravings, and that Hannah herself was satisfied. “I was perplexed by that,” Oseland says sneerily.

Curtis points out that Alex tried to stay as close to the original as possible, and Suvir took a different strategy altogether. Danyelle calls his dish “a lecture on a plate,” and Oseland says the pita was “cold and tough and really unamazing.” Between this and “undelcious” in the Christina Hendricks episode, I’m beginning to think Oseland is a fan of made up words.

Alan dings Mary Sue for always being “good, not great,” and Danyelle agrees that she just keeps playing it safe. In the back, Mary Sue worries that she can’t take “another minute in front of those. . .judges.” Commercial.

Back. Presumably I fast forwarded through the fakeback somewhere in there but. . .meh. Anyway, the bottom 3 are still staring down the judges. Curtis tells them that their team served the least favorite meals. Suvir’s burger had none of the juicy succulence they needed; Oseland was aware with every mouthful of Alex’s that he was eating low cal food, and Mary Sue’s didn’t rise to the level it needed to.

And Suvir is out. Curtis reminds him that he’s won $7800 for The Agricultural Stewardship Association. Oseland applauds his humanitarian goals, but thinks that doesn’t excuse bland, boring food.

Suvir says if he’d done what Hugh did with red meat, he would’ve failed himself and everyone who’s ever invested in him. He says he couldn’t have left at a higher point since he left for his convictions.

Next: Today you’ll be taking over the drivethru. I’ve got radio silence here. We’re never going to get our food.

40 Days and 40 Nights ... Without Bacon

Shortly before my birthday (February 28, for those of you who need to mark your calendars for next year), I arrived home from work to find a package covered in "contents perishable" labels. Curious, I opened it and dug through several layers of ice packs and space-aged looking cushioning to find:

...four pounds of bacon. Four POUNDS. Of Bacon. Courtesy of one of my oldest friends, via Zingerman's mail order outfit.

And I had a conflicted response. Part of me was all:
And another part was all "OMG. Four pounds of bacon? And I leave for Italy in a little over a week."

So I put the bacon -- all four pounds of it -- in the freezer. And there it sat -- all four pounds of it -- until yesterday.

Yep. I had four pounds of bacon frozen in my house and I managed not to eat it for two. Whole. Months.

But there's more. On my birthday, struggling back from an Oscar night hangover of epic proportions, I had a bacon, egg, and cheese breakfast sandwich with a slice of tomato from the deli downstairs. And then I got smote with the flu that had been circling our department all winter, and I didn't eat much of anything except Jell-O for the next few days.

And then I went to Naples, and spent 6 days pretty much eating everything that didn't have a historical marker on it. I ate pizzas and pastas and prosciuttos and bracchiole and gelatti and gnocchi and an unprecedented (even for me) number of fried things. I ate zabaglione with strawberries and a croissant (or four) every morning for breakfast.

And I drank beer and wine and capuccino and a great deal of blood orange juice. And some water. And it was not until I was on the Naples to Paris flight that made up the first leg of my trip home, accepting a Heineken from the Air France stewardess, that I realized I hadn't had a soda since the corresponding Paris to Naples flight a week earlier.

Which is not as big a deal for me as it would be for most people. I love Coke, but I've been trying to hold myself back to one a week during the work week and one if I hit a movie or something on the weekend for a long time now.

A bigger deal was the simultaneous realization that I hadn't had any bacon* since I'd left the U.S. In fact, I had been bacon free since that breakfast sandwich on my birthday.

(*ok, I had pancetta once, but we're sticking to the absolutely strictest definition of good ole' American style bacony bacon here)

Intrigued by the idea that I could go -- at that point -- two weeks without bacon and not even notice it, I decided to see if I could push it further. I decided to take advantage of the fact that my trip had overlapped with the beginning of Lent and see if I could make it through to Easter without bacon.

(Remember Josh Hartnett? Whatever happened to him? I don't think I've heard anything about him since The Black Dahlia. If that killed his career, I'd have to call it justifiable homicide)

Anyway, long story short (too late!): I did it. I did not eat a single piece of bacon until the day after Easter.

And the odd part is, it was almost easy. I say almost because there were a few times when temptation reared its smoky, cured head: at Meridian Pint, for example, I desperately wanted the burger with the bacon and the blue cheese. But I didn't have it. I had the plain old ordinary burger instead.

And sometimes making lunch, I'd throw together a spinach salad with some dried cranberries and some blue cheese and I'd think "doesn't this usually have protein in it?" and I'd realize "oh, yeah. It usually has bacon in it." And I'd be a little sad, when eating that salad, that it was not "finished" in some way.

And once in awhile, I'd look at a menu at a restaurant and my eyes would be drawn to things that were wrapped in bacon, or stuffed with bacon, or "studded with tantalizing bits" of bacon. And I'd automatically think "well, I'm having that, of course," and then I'd realize that I wasn't, and that I'd have to look at the menu again and pick something else.

And I did, and it was usually delicious, which made me wonder. . .how often do I choose bacon not because it's really what I want, but because that's what I do? How often do I eat bacon as bacon, and how often do I eat it as a habit?

Sunday night, I pulled one of the four pounds of bacon out of the freezer. I prepped two slices of it the next morning, and put it and some spinach and some dried cranberries and some blue cheese to a salad container and took it to work for lunch. The salad was good, though I think I picked the wrong sort of bacon to compliment it -- I'd gone with a thick cut smoked version, and the other flavors probably needed a subtler bacon so they could express themselves too. And when I walked back into my house last night, I was overwhelmed by the smoky, bacony smell. It was somehow too much after all this time.

I mean. . .I still love bacon. In fact, I think that once I'm back on the bacon horse for more than a day, I may actually love and appreciate bacon more than I ever have before, because I'd gotten to a point where I was taking bacon for granted.

But I think taking a break from it has made me more conscious of how I love bacon. I don't think I'll ever go back to loving bacon indiscriminately, but I think I'll appreciate good bacon all the more when I have it, and when it's in a context where it can be its best, savory self, and not just thrown into something for the sake of having bacon.

Top Chef Masters: Bugs, Bossiness, and Booooooooos

I know. I’m the worst. I’m a bad, bad, negligent recapper. I didn’t watch the show on time; I didn’t recap it on time; I didn’t explain why things were late.

And you know what? The same thing may happen again next week.

Here’s the thing: I don’t feel 100% invested in Top Chef, Masters. I don’t like the switch over to the normal Top Chef format; I don’t like the lack of Gael Greene’s Hat or the chippy that’s replaced her; I’m not invested in any of these chefs , as they don’t seem to have either the caliber of previous Masters groups -- remember when we had Hubert Keller and Rick Bayless and Marcus Samuelsson and Jonathan Waxman and other chefs so good that Wylie Dufresne couldn’t even make it past the first round? TWICE? – or the character of the ordinary cheftestants.

And puddins? No offense, but you don’t seem too invested either. Yes, Masters always gets a lower response rate than the normal Top Chef, but it’s been creakingly slow around here the last few weeks. It’s like I’m blogging into a vacuum, my own words echoing back at me.

So I don’t have the sense of either investment or urgency I normally do. Certainly not enough to put other parts of my life on pause like I sometimes have, to say I’m not available on Wednesday or to say that I can go out but I have to be home before ten. So I went out on Wednesday night, and didn’t get home until (gasp) 10:45. And I didn’t feel like sitting up to watch a show I’m kind of “meh” about. And then I didn’t feel much like watching it Thursday or Friday night either.

(Also, I don't know what's up with blogger lately, but I can't post without my formatting getting completely jacked)

But here we are now, and this episode underlines some of the reasons I’ve been “meh” about the show. Is it just me, folks, or does the judging seem pretty well fekakta this season? I mean, I can understand the episode where Sue went home for not finishing even though Suvir managed to turn veal into veal jerky. But sending John home for perfect risotto because it was boring and safe when Celina made gritty “puddin’?” Is puddin’ really that much more exciting than risotto that it gets to stay even when it’s not as good as the risotto is?

Anyway. I’m irked. I liked John. And I assumed he’d be staying awhile, because we’ve seen a fair bit of him so far.

So let’s look at the ridiculous circumstances that led to his ouster.

We open with the chefs entering the Masters kitchen, faced with Curtis and a bunch of edible plants and flowers but Hugh can tell the flowers and plants are hiding something else. Curtis tells them they’re going “back to our roots. Literally.” What’s hidden is a bunch of bugs that are high in protein, iron, calcium, and so on. They have to make a 5 star dish for “the ultimate bug eaters.” The winning chef gets $5000 and immunity during elimination.

They have 20 minutes, starting. . .now! Freaky food flurry! The chefs are pretty grossed out. We get a montage of them boiling bugs, chopping worms, and deep frying crickets. “They’re not very delicious,” one of the ladies says. John C. is grilling scorpions, his first bug serving experience since shoving them in his brother’s mouth against his will when they were kids. He giggles, then adds “and I’m sorry for that, Richard.” Alex tries to be philosophical about it, saying that the first time someone cracked open an oyster they were probably like “should I eat this?” Hugh says the fact that he hasn’t won yet has been “buggin’” him. Oh, Hugh.

Mary Sue tells us she’ll eat any kind of eyeball, brain…”but not bugs.” Suvir says that as a Hindu “butchering animals is something I can’t do.” So he’s serving his greenworm with a torch so the diners can cook it if they like. Time!

In the tasting room, Curtis greets Mykel Hawk and Ruth England from Man, Woman Wild. I know of this show only because of The Soup where they refer to the host as Myke Hawk. Say it fast.

They commence to eating bugs, starting with Naomi’s Tempura Fried Nightcrawlers with Elderflower and Herb Salad, which Ruth says has a bitter aftertaste to it, but Mykel thinks it’s outstanding “best worm I’ve ever eaten.”

Next up is Hugh’s Tempura Fried Crickets, Sunchoke and Carrot Puree, Blood Orange Vinaigrette. Ruth loves it, and Mykel thinks it looks horrible but tastes great. Celina’s Soy Crickets with Salsify Salad is next. Mykel likes the saltiness, but recommends removing the legs for future preparation.

Next is Suvir’s Himalayan Jungle and Market Salad with Live Hornworms. Ruth thinks it’s a cop-out. Mykel is the only one willing to kill and torch the worm. Suvir respects the tasters for indulging him and his dish.

Next we have John’s Grilled scorpion with Smoked Poached Egg and Oyster Root. Mykel thins it works quite well. Mary Sue’s Thai Sunchoke Salad with Toasted Beetle Vinaigrette is next. Curtis likes the crunch. Traci’s Salad with Chipotle-Dusted Fried Scorpion and Aloe Vinagrette follows. Mykel doesn’t like the fact that one of the scorpions “swolled up” during cooking.

They move to Floyd’s Omelet of Nightcrawlers, Amaranth, Roasted Shiitakes and Bacon. Mykel is digging it. Next is Alex’s Angel Hair with Beetles and Flowers. Ruth likes the way the crisp beetles contrast with the soft angel hair. George’s Henworm and Coconut Soup with Lime, Lemongrass, Ginger and Arugula Flowers is next. Mykel says it’s awful tasting. Curtis finally eats a worm after picking around the bugs all day, and turns green. Commercial.

Back. Curtis tells the chefs they really amazed him. Suvir is called out by Ruth as her least favorite. He explains that he can’t take a life. Mykel assures him that it’s “all good.” His least favorite was George’s ginger soup.

They liked Hugh’s crickets and carrot puree and Mary Sue’s salad with beetle vinaigrette. The winner is. . .Hugh for his tempura crickets. He gets $5000 for Wholesome Wave, and immunity. He calls himself “the Phoenix of this competition,” and says his new skills will pay off handsomely when he opens “Hugh’s bug shack.”

We move on to the elimination challenge. Curtis tells them that since they’re all there to make money for their charities, that night they’ll be participating in a special fundraising dinner. They’ve invited fans of the show to a 10 course tasting meal. The guests will select their favorite dish and donate $100 each to that chef’s favorite charity. The winner gets the $10,000 on top of that. They have 3 hours to prep, and there’s no time to shop so they’ll be working with what’s in the pantry. Curtis tells them to expect twists.

Food flurry. Hugh volunteers to take the last dessert since he has immunity. Naomi starts organizing things again, rubbing some people (like Alex) the wrong way.

Celina is making dessert even though her last dessert didn’t go well. George goes to get some water and finds that the taps aren’t working. There’s no running water. Floyd realizes that he’s working with raw fish and can’t wash his hands. George thinks it’s funny that the water is off since he’s competing for water.org. They start harvesting water from the circulators and melting down ice. Suvir says that his zen attitude in the kitchen is probably because he never trained in the kitchen, so it’s a calming space for him.

Curtis comes in and tells them service will start 30 minutes earlier than planned. Hugh advises everyone to simplify their dishes. Suvir is thrown for a loop because his dish has a lot of components. Naomi is strategizing how to organize the servers and everything. Hugh decides to step up and help Naomi, but their instructions seem to contradict each other.

Curtis comes in again and tells them tonight’s waiters won’t be coming, so the “service is entirely up to you. Good luck.” Commercial.

Back. Alex says the loss of waiters is the biggest curveball so far. Naomi says they shouldn’t be working on their courses while service is going on. Traci points out that that’s impossible with the proteins.

The diners begin entering. Hugh yells that they need the first course plated now, and that if after they do that they want to pour the wine that’s on the tables, “that would be a nice thing to do.” Naomi and Hugh yell out orders in the kitchen.

Curtis introduces James Oseland and Danyelle whatsit, and Alan Sitzema from Grub Street who used to be James Oseland’s intern.

The first course comes out and Mary Sue introduces her Tuna Ceviche with Peruvian Aji Amarillo on Plantain Chips. Oseland finds the presentation pleasing, but the flavor is a little flat. Alan says it’s like a “poorly made guacamole.”

Next out is Suvir’s Chaat Salad of Chickpeas and Yogurt with Baby Spinach. Danyelle says it’s delicious, and Alan says the yogurt really rounds out the whole dish. Oseland worries that he’s too much inside his comfort zone. Back in the kitchen, Mary Sue raves about how delicious it is and asks what’s in it. “You’ll copy me for the next challenge; I’m not giving it to you,” Suvir says.

Hm, writing that out raises a question for me: is everything Suvir says actually hilarious, or is just made to seem hilarious because of his over-the-top delivery and charming accent? Is Suvir the Indian Fabio? Will I get really tired of him eventually too?

Next up is George’s Shrimp Alhinho with Pickled Carrot, Red Beets and Vanilla Oil. Oseland says it’s a gorgeous plate of food, and Daneylle says the shrimp is perfectly cooked. Alan likes ‘the tooth of the beet” but Oseland says it’s a bit salty.

Naomi’s simple but beautiful Celery Veloute with Salsa Verde and Lemon Oil is next. “Such a goooooooooooorgeous looking dish,” Oseland raves. Danyelle is surprised by the richness of the soup.

John’s Roasted Shiitake and Prosciutto Risotto with Pine Nuts and Paprika is the next item. Alan doesn’t know if he necessarily likes the crunch of the pinenuts. Oseland thinks John isn’t stretching himself.

Floyd’s Rice Flaked Sole with Roasted Cauliflower, Apple and Sundried Ginger Broth comes out. Oseland finds it “loud and bold and sweet and sharp and fantastic,” but Danyelle finds the broth too assertive.

Floyd worries about the lack of communication between Hugh and Naomi when they’re both trying to boss the whole thing. Commercial.

Back. Fakeback. Everyone tells the stories of the worst thing that happened at their restaurants. Naomi’s power went out and the chefs had to cook by candlelight; Celina lost both bathrooms and had to send guests to the grocery store across the street; John nearly murdered a pastry chef for putting salt on top of crème brulee and then sending it out when he was unable to caramelize it.

Really back. The atmosphere in the kitchen is tense, and suddenly it’s every man for himself. Hugh continues bitching about Naomi’s assertiveness. Alex sends out his Roasted Salmon, Gazpacho Vegetables with Roasted Chili and Tomatillo Sauce. Danyelle’s salmon is perfectly cooked but Oseland is on “this side of being raw.”

Traci’s Roasted Rib Eye and Slow Cooked Broccoli with Red Wine Sauce and Fried Shallots is next. Oseland loves it, but Danyelle finds it “musty” and Alan thinks it’s a little flat. Oseland says they’re too young to appreciate “bold cooked vegetables.”

We head into desserts with Hugh’s Buttermilk Strawberry Panna Cotta with Black Pepper and Champagne Berry Soup. Alan says it has the perfect, firm texture, and Oseland says it’s the perfect bridge from the savory courses to dessert. Finally, we get Celina’s Chocolate Puddin’ with Fleur de Sel and Ginger Cake Donut. Suvir says it tastes like a “canned or plastic wrapped American pudding.” Alan loves her donut, but Oseland and Danyelle find the texture gritty.

The chefs come out and take a round of applause from the judges and diners. The diners all circle their favorite dish from the evening to designate their donations.

The chefs return to the back and wait for Critics’ Table. Curtis comes back and compliments them on working together so well. He calls back Naomi and Suvir. Curtis congratulates them on having the dishes that got the most votes – Naomi got 43% of the vote, so $1800 goes to Seed Savers Exchange. Suvir’s got 40% of the vote, and $1700 for Agricultural Stewardship. The critics compliment both dishes, but the favorite goes to . . .Naomi, who gets an additional $10,000.

Curtis congratulates them and asks them to send back some of their colleagues – Mary Sue, Celina and John. They had the least successful dishes of the night.

Mary Sue acknowledges that her experience so far has been a roller coaster. Oseland tells her the ceviche was a bit bland, and Danyelle says the pickled onions took over. Alan thought John’s risotto was great, but wonders why he did such a straightforward interpretation. Danyelle says his dish didn’t stand out. Celina admits that she doesn’t necessarily love the dessert course. They ding the texture and flavor of the puddin’, and Oseland tells her to “get out of dessertville.”

They’re sent back to the wine room while the critics deliberate. They say essentially the same things they just said – the ceviche didn’t let the fish stand out, the risotto was unambitious, and Celina’s puddin’ was problematic. Commercial.

Back. Danyelle tells Celina that the quality of the cocoa powder took a toll on the pudding. Oseland says John’s risotto was average. Alan tells Mary Sue that she made a good ceviche, but they were expecting a great ceviche. And the chef going home is. . .John. Booooo.

He says he’s glad to have had the opportunity to work with them, and Curtis reminds him that winning a previous quickfire means he still gets $5000 for No Kid Hungry. Ok, that's cheap -- chefs who got bounced without winning anything got a donation made to their charities, but John only gets what he already earned? Booooo.

John interviews that his egg is scrambeled right now. He says that as challenging as the experience is, it’s just a “carnival freak show of magnificence.” He exits to applause, assuring the other chefs that he loves them.

Next time: Sami Brady! Calorie limits of 1500! Get ready for a funeral! Step it up Curtis! Suvir goes on a rant about how bad red meat is right in front of my dish. I would never do that.

Pain PerGOOP

It was my senior year in college that I became aware of the magical healing properties of French Toast.

Don't look so aghast -- I'd known that French Toast was delicious much earlier than that, of course. You can't have a bite of French Toast without figuring that out, especially if it's being made for you by my mother, who does all manner of odd things like adding orange juice and various types of booze to the egg mixture, all of which come out deliciously.

But one Sunday morning during the early Fall of my senior year in college, a horrific wailing coming from my insane Chicana roommate's bedroom alerted me to the fact that she'd returned from a camping trip with her whey faced shit-kicker boyfriend somewhat precipitously.

As I tiptoed gingerly past her door on my way to the bathroom, I could hear her yelling into the phone to her sister in a frenzied mix of English and Spanish. From what I understood based on two years of Señor Thompson's excellent tutelage, I was able to deduce that things had gone awry -- so awry that if a particular Ag student wasn't walking around with one of his ridiculous boots shoved up his scrawny ass, it was only because he could run really, really fast.

I was unequipped to deal with this situation in any way but one. So I tapped gently on her door, and reeled back slightly as it was opened by a red faced, streaming eyed, wild haired creature who -- the phone still pressed to her ear -- shrieked "WHAT?????" at me in a voice that rattled our windows.

"Would you like some French Toast?" I asked timidly.

She sniffed, and said "yes, thank you," and finished up her conversation with her sister at a slightly more subdued level of wail while I puttered around our kitchen trying to scrape together some semblance of the necessary ingredients. Seriously, as French Toast interpretations go, it must've been a travesty -- I think I used Orowheat bread as the base -- but we sat down together to eat it, and it had some sort of mysterious, soothing, sanity-returning effect on her. In the course of that breakfast, she went from relating the horrifying tale (which ended with a howled "and that is NOT what you say to someone right after you've made love to them in the back of a truck") to the two of us giggling madly about how paralyzed with fear I'd looked when she opened the door, and the knowledge that tomorrow was, as someone once said, another day.

This weekend I made French Toast inspired by the Challah Bread French Toast recipe in My Father's Daughter, not because anyone was wailing offstage right in my apartment, but because it was Sunday, and to have French toast on Sunday is good.

I say inspired by because I used what I had on hand -- blackberries rather than bananas and a wheat baguette in the early stages of stale-ification rather than Challah. So mine is more in line with the origins of pain perdu than it would be if I'd gone out and bought Challah just for the purpose.

The recipe is not exactly rocket surgery -- for every 2 servings, you need one egg, a half cup of milk or whatever milk-alike you use, a half teaspoon of vanilla and the appropriate amount of bread to be dunked and fried as usual -- but it is good, honest, ordinary French Toast. Perfect for enjoying on a Sunday morning, or talking a half crazed, heart broken 22 year old back from the edge.

(And yes, I know that looks rather a large portion for one person, but you have to consider that each baguette chunk is really only about two bites, so that's really about 16 bites of French Toast. You also have to consider that it's within my rights to say "suck it, food police, I eat what I want." And I do say that. I absolutely do)

Top Chef Masters: Masters, Mad Men, Meatballs, and My Milkshake

I’m secretly relieved that I’m not Haiku-ing out the Top Chef Masters Cheftestants, because there’s no way I could think of a haiku for Sue. I mean, I don’t think we even heard her name on screen last week, and this week she’s gone. What’s a girl to do?

I’m also not feeling much in the way of introductory writing at the moment, for which I apologize. See, I have that weird pulse in your eye thing going on, which is unsettling enough to begin with, but in my case it’s been going on on and off since Monday, and it’s really freaking me out.

So…goodbye, Sue. Hello, Christina Hendricks, whom I love. Hello, your scruffy husband, who always kind of weirds me out. Welcome back, Hugh. And thank you, Bravo, for getting “Milkshake” stuck in my head.

We open as the Masters all file into the kitchen, minus John S, who has unfortunately had to drop out of the competition due to an unspecified emergency. At first I’m kind of jazzed that this means we’re down to ten contestants after only two weeks, but of course, nothing in life or reality TV is that simple. So Hugh gets to come back, and Cliff O’Neill can now have his unibrow jokes back for at least another week or so. Curtis feels like it worked out for a reason since the critics felt torn about letting him go. The critics have been vocal about the fact that they disagreed with the diners who picked the winning restaurant – both during the episode and since its airing – so I can only imagine that making that decision had to be a wrench.

Anyway, it’s time for the quickfire: they have to make a meatball dish in 30 minutes. Sounds easy, right? They have all manner of meats to choose from, and they have to use a hand crank meat grinder. Their diner is Grammy nominated recording artist Kellis, who is also a trained chef and loves meatballs.

In fact, you might even say her meatballs bring all the boys to the yard.

Sorry. It was pretty much an obligation.

Sue tells us that Kellis’s “milkshake brings all the boys to my yard.” I don’t know if that’s an innuendo. Is that an innuendo? If so, it’s maybe a kind of inept one since it doesn’t make a whole ton of sense.

Floyd starts working with French bread, which makes him think of his son, who loves meatball subs. He’s competing for the Young Scientist Cancer Research Fund at Mt. Sinai, which brings the number of charities we’ve heard about to. . . 3. Out of 11. Naomi Pomeroy tells us she’s known for meat, and then we see all sorts of artsy shots of her toting pigs around in the tender light of dawn, presumably before she takes them off somewhere nice and private and turns them into delicious foodstuffs in totally humane ways. The chefs all struggle with their grinders. Celina is determined to finish this time since she didn’t complete their first quickfire. 14:40 left. Floyd thinks they’re screwed.

5 minutes! Naomi opens her milk with her teeth. John is making a Vietnamese chicken meatball. Suvir looks at everyone else running around frantically and smiles at his beautiful shoes. Or something. It’s very . . .wise and enigmatic. And the shoes are really something.

Time! The chefs all go and sit down while Kellis goes to sample their meatballs, beginning with Sue’s Spicy Pork Meatball, Spicy Tomato Sauce. Kellis says the cheese in the middle is a nice surprise. She thinks George’s Chicken and Short Rib Meatball, Spicy Tomato Broth is “an interesting take” but she doesn’t love the broth. “No milkshake for you,” Suvir tells George.

Next is Alex’s Spicy Lamb Meatball, Toasted Fruit and Almond Couscous, which she calls very good, but she’s not crazy about the non-edible garnish. “Well, I don’t like your songs,” Alex snaps at the CCTV screen showing them Kellis. This is maybe the best thing about Masters – that the quickfire judge can’t see them reacting to the judging, so they can react any way they like. Kellis turns to Floyd’s Fried Beef and Bacon Meatball Sandwich with Asian Slaw, which she finds overpoweringly salty. Floyd says this is because she won’t eat it with the bread.

Kellis moves to Traci’s Tarragon Chicken Meatball Consommé, which she finds mild. Traci’s also ticked about the way she’s eating it because she’s not using a spoon, and because she thinks the tarragon is dill and wonders why she can’t taste the dill. After that comes Mary Sue’s Turkey Albondigas Soup with Toasted Pumpkin Seeds and Manchego Cheese. She loves the flavor, and Curtis thinks it tastes really healthy.

John’s Vietnamese Chicken Meatball is next. She makes an odd face, and then says “that’s wonderful” in a monotone. Suvir’s Indiana [sic, Bravo interns – because Indiana is known for its spices??] Spiced Meatball, Tamarind Glaze is next. She loves the texture and the tamarind glaze. Then we have Hugh’s Lamb Merguez, Shitake Slaw and Yogurt. She doesn’t love the combination of the yogurt and the pepper sauce. He finds her criticism pointless. Mary Sue feels really stressed out. Commercial!

Back! Kellis says her least favorites were George’s chicken and shortrib, which was an odd combination and she found the broth “show offy.” This may be the dumbest judging ever – how is broth “show offy?” Broth is broth. She would’ve found Floyd’s beef loin better if it had been less salty. He tells her that she was hoping she’d eat it with the bread, and she replies that it should’ve stood on its own. What? She thought the flavors in Hugh’s were battling each other.

On the other hand: she loved Sue’s classic meatball, and thought everything in John’s worked well together. She also loved the sweet and spicy flavors in Suvir’s tamarind meatball. But the winner is…John’s Vietnamese meatball! He gets $5000 for Share Our Strength’s No Kid Hungry. Yay!! That's four! Four charities! Oh how I love to count charities!

Curtis dismisses Kellis, and tells the chefs about their elimination challenge, for which they’ll be going back to the ‘60s. This makes Mary Sue think of “3 martini lunches and cheese fondue.”

They’ll be exploring classic dishes from the time. They draw fondue forks with numbers that are linked to dishes like Chicken ala King, Beef Wellington, and so on. Floyd gets Ambrosia, and has no idea what it is. People tell him “oh, it’s this really crappy dish from the sixties.”

Ok, fuck all y’all Masters. I love Ambrosia. I don’t care if it’s clichéd or hackneyed or ‘murrrrrrrikin, I fucking love it. I would eat it all day every day if that was permissible, and I can’t wait to kill about a gallon of it at Easter dinner.

Curtis then introduces Christina Hendricks and her husband, Geoffery Arend from Body of Proof. This is the first time I’ve known what Christina Hendricks’ husband was “known” for, so thanks for that, Bravo. They want the Masters to update the dishes to something more modern, because Christina hates ‘60s food after being surrounded by it at a zillion different Mad Men events for the last few years. So they’ll be making the classic dish and an updated version as appetizers to serve to forty guests.

The Masters are sent out to Whole Foods for 45 minutes of shopping on a $200 budget. John is examining the oysters for his Rockefeller. He says drawing this dish is “a fastball straight down the center” since he’s from new Orleans. Sue is happy to have Duck a l’Orange because she made it as a child. She’s playing for the Louisiana SPCA. We are hearing way too much from Sue after not even getting her name aloud in the episode last week. She’s clearly going home.

Mary Sue wants to take chances with her devilled eggs since she played it safe on the last challenge. Floyd is still asking what ambrosia is. People apparently tell him that it’s whipped cream (no) Marshmallows and toasted (no) coconut with canned fruit. Wrong, wrong, and wrong, assholes. It’s sour cream or yogurt, marshmallows, regular coconut (if you must – I prefer not to), and canned fruit.

They jump back into their product placement vehicles and hit the kitchens for 2.5 hours of prep. Hugh says it’s fun to have a second chance, but it would be very embarrassing to lose the first and the second time. Suvir is preparing Veal Oscar which is “fatty and rich and quite flavorless. But that is, I guess, part of the ‘60s in America.” Alex has never made bread pudding before. Seriously? I would expect making bread pudding to be a prerequisite to admission to culinary school, not something a Master chef has never done in all their years of experience.

Celina likes classic ‘60s food. Me too, Celina. Let’s sit over here in the corner and eat delicious ‘60s food and drink some Manhattans and to hell with the rest of these types. Traci is deconstructing beef stroganoff. Floyd’s modern ambrosia is based on a mousse his wife makes. Naomi feels trepidation about grasshopper pie, and she feels like she’s been cursed with the dessert bug. Alex sees other people still running around, and wonders if he’s forgotten something. John is worried that he won’t really know what he has in terms of oysters until the next day since he can’t open them the night before. Commercial.

Back. The chefs head to Tar Restaurant with an hour and a half to prep and cook. Alex recaps that they’re cooking for Christina Hendricks -- “beautiful woman, gorgeous and a great actress and a great show. And her husband Geoffery.” OUCH. But probably pretty much how everyone views them.

There’s not enough workspace in the kitchen, and no room to plate and a high level of pressure. Suvir and Sue are basically forced out due to lack of space. The only cooking space left for Suvir is the deep fryer. Augh, deep fried veal sounds like a nightmare. They decide to help the others get done so they can get them out of the way.

The guests enter, including Paul Kinsey from Mad Men, who I have a secret guilty crush on because I know the world thinks Paul Kinsey is a bastard, but I’ve always had a soft spot for him because I feel like his bastardy often arises out of his kind of getting a raw deal for one reason or another, and I’ve wondered what happened to him since he was left behind at the former Sterling-Cooper when the rest of the cast went off to Sterling-Cooper-Draper-Price. Anyway, the critics are also there. Ruth Reichl is impossibly poorly groomed – she should be ejected from a Mad Men-centric party for failing to bring her cape of hair up to par. They begin getting cocktails.

Mary Sue is plating her eggs under the table because of the space issue. John has some oyster issues, so he’s serving pickled oysters for his modern interpretation. They serve first, with John’s Oysters Rockefeller and Mignonette Pickled Oyster, Horseradish Crème Fraîche, Collards and Spicy Bacon, and Mary Sue’s Deviled Eggs and Japanese Style Poached Egg, Umeboshi and Mustard Miso Mayonnaise. Christina finds John’s oyster “comforting and warm.” Christina thinks Mary Sue’s egg is amazing but it doesn’t make her think deviled egg. Paul Kinsey comes over and asks Christina which one the “traditional” Oysters Rockefeller was. Paul Kinsey is angling for more camera time now that he’s not on the hit show anymore, but who can blame him?

Next up we have George’s Chicken Á La King and Roasted Chicken Breast, Lemon Yogurt, Vegetables and Biscuit and Traci’s Beef Stroganoff and Steak Tartare and Fried Noodles. Ruth Reichl and her terribly styled hair find the bread in the chicken a bit soggy, but everyone else thinks she’s an idiot. Christina doesn’t know if there’s enough of a mushroom flavor in the Stroganoff, and Geoffrey says the noodles are what stands out and he’s not sure that’s the best thing.

Suvir pulls his veal out of the deep fryer and thinks he made a mistake. Sue only gets half of her plates plated. They take their dishes to the critics, and Suvir presents his deep fried takes on Veal Oscar, which Bravo’s website doesn’t even bother describing, while Sue apologizes for her takes on Duck a l’Orange, which they also don’t bother describing, and which is incomplete. Suvir stands up for Sue, saying that she was tripped up by her own generosity in helping others.

The critics begin tasting with the veal, which is tough and dried out. Aw. Oseland is verklempt about Sue’s bad kitchen experience. Other people say things, but I’m too distracted by Ruth Reichl’s awful hair.

Next out from the kitchen we have Celina’s Coq Au Vin and Chicken Frisée Salad, Pickled Shallots and Carrots, Bacon Vinaigrette and Hugh’s Beef Wellington and Filet Mignon, Mushroom Espuma and Crisp Puff Pastry. “I went lighter on the salt,” he assures the critics. Some find the vinegar in the modernized coq too acidic, but Geoffery and Christina like it. Ruth Reichl’s dreadful hair thinks Hugh’s dish is the opposite of a Wellington, but that’s kind of what he intended since he did a deconstruction of the elements.

We enter the world of desserts with Floyd’s Ambrosia Salad and Grilled Peppered Pineapple with Mango, Coconut and Orange Custard, Alex’s Bread Pudding and Chai-Spiced Custard, Panettone and Roasted Apple Salad, and Naomi’s Grasshopper Pie and Chocolate Mint Soufflé Cake with Toasted Kirsch Marshmallow.

Christina finds the ambrosia whimsical and Geoffery loves the pecan at the bottom. Christina thinks Alex’s bread pudding is “all sauce.” She thinks the mint in the grasshopper pie is a bit off, but Oseland would eat it at any cocktail party. Paul Kinsey goes around stealing people’s cherries (that’s what she said). I still find him charming, in a bastardy way. Commercial.

Fakeback. Suvir tells us about his farm in upstate New York.

Back. Critics’ Table. Mary Sue, Floyd, and John file in. They are the top 3. Oseland tells them all they did a fantastic job. Ruth Reichl was really blown away (maybe that’s why her hair looks so shitty), and Danyelle whatsername says they made “sexy finger foods.” Then they say nice things about each of the dishes, but the winner, who receives $10,000 for their charity is. . .Mary Sue and Share Our Strength!

So maybe this is why we’re only hearing about two or three charities per episode – 90% of the chefs are playing for Share Our Strength. Which is a great charity, but you do have to admit it would’ve been awful last episode if they’d all come in and said “my name is X, I have Y years of experience, and I’m playing on behalf of Share Our Strength.”

They’re sent back to the kitchen and told to send back some of their colleagues. Floyd tells Sue, Alex, and Suvir that they’re getting the hook.

The bottom 3 enter the chamber of doom. Sue knows she’s there because she didn’t get her food onto the plate in time. Danyell wonders why she was helping everyone else. Oseland kind of chokes up when he says she was obviously having a rough day at the office. Ruth Reichl’s embarrassing hair says she didn’t’ show a real difference between the two dishes.

Oseland says Suvir’s veal was like shoe leather. Suvir talks about the divas taking up the space in the kitchen, and refuses to name who said divas are.

Ruth Reichl’s awful mom hair thinks Alex should’ve done more with his bread pudding. The three of them are sent back to the kitchen while the critics deliberate. Oseland makes a strong case for Sue’s dishes tasting “fine” incomplete or not. Danyell takes the opposite tack of saying that Suvir met and completed the challenge even though his veal was awful. Oseland and Danyell both hated Alex’s bread pudding, though Danyell thinks it wasn’t “quite as bad” as the veal. “Tough decision, but it sounds like you’ve made one,” Curtis smarms as we cut to commercial.

Back. Ruth Reichl’s dreadful bangs remind Sue that her plates were incomplete. Oseland tells Alex his puddings were disappointing and “undelicious” and Danyell tells Suvir that his veal was too tough for words.

And the chef to be eliminated is. . Sue. She’s disappointed, but she understands. She says she’ll take away a lot of great memories and friendships, and she wishes everyone the best of luck. She knows that the women are going to take it and the boys had better watch out.

Next time: bugs! No waiters! It’s certainly not going to win any beauty prizes. She’s just trying to take total control and so am I. You motherfuckers set your own damn table.

On GOOP and Soup

I have a troubled relationship with Gwyneth Paltrow.

I know, I know. That sounds moronic. I don't have any relationship with Gwyneth Paltrow. I may have feelings about Gwyneth Paltrow, but I can't possibly have a relationship with her as she doesn't have even the vaguest idea that I exist.

But let's just roll with it: I have a troubled relationship with Gwyneth Paltrow. For years now, I've been saying "I hated Gwyneth Paltrow before hating Gwyneth Paltrow was cool." And that's true. I started hating Gwyneth Paltrow way back in college, when Shakespeare in Love came out, and I thought "this would be a good movie, were it not for Gwyneth Paltrow." That summer when I went to England, I took peculiar satisfaction in reading the newspaper our British friends took, which criticised her "implausible accent." The British get it, I thought, and satisfied with myself and the sophistication of my 22 years, I drank another cup of Fortnum's Royal Blend and read a few more pages of the Lisa Jewell novel I'd bought after seeing posters for it (posters! for a book!) all over the underground.

And then I sat back and watched for years as others -- turned off by things she said or roles she took or didn't take or photos where she was bizarrely captioned with "I am African" or the way she was friends with Madonna or the way she was suddenly not friends with Madonna anymore or the whole Kabbalah thing or marrying the guy from Coldplay or naming her kids something cuckoo or referring to Billy Joel as William. William! I ask you!

And then, of course, there was the time she poisoned me. That's right. Gwyneth Paltrow poisoned me. A friend of a friend had raved about the weight she'd lost on the GOOP cleanse, and I decided to give it a shot. I made some modifications to cut the obvious beets out of it, but between counting the minutes until I could have my snack of mixed seeds and nuts, and becoming so crazed with hunger that when the lid stuck on my smoothie cup, I resorted to smashing the cup against the counter in an attempt to crack it open like an otter with a clam (a gross, peat bog tasting clam), I failed to notice that the Green Powder I was putting in said smoothies contained 200 mg of dehydrated beet juice...until my breathing was compromised and I broke out in hives.

God damn you, Gwyneth Paltrow, I thought as the ER nurses shot me full of epinephrine. You and your lifestyle website and your funkily named children and your diet of no gluten but all the poisonous root vegetables you can eat. Damn you.

But...

There's another side to the story, of course. Otherwise this wouldn't be about me having a complicated relationship with Gwyneth Paltrow; it would just be about me finding her tiresome and her trying to poison me.

You see, before I hated Gwyneth Paltrow, I actually rather liked her. I liked Se7en. I thought she and Brad Pitt made a cute couple, back in the day when they had the same haircut and all. I love, love, loved Sliding Doors -- one of the all time greats from that particular genre of 90s chick-flicks when they all opened with Blair's "Have Fun, Go Mad" and made it seem like if you moved to a major urban center and got an asymmetrical bob, anything could happen. I think I was even ok with Emma, despite wanting to slug my roommate in the face for raving that it was "just like Clueless!"

And some of the things that started turning other people against Gwyneth Paltrow started slowly nudging me back toward her. So she stopped being friends with Madonna? Good for her. Have you seen Madonna recently? Bitch be scary. So she gave her kids atypical names? So did half the girls I went to high school with, and they don't have the excuse of being eccentric, artistic millionaires (they just crazy).

And then there's GOOP. Which, for all that she tried to poison me through it, has given me some good recipes I fall back on all the time. Which, for all that people make fun of the pretensions and the preachiness and the William Joels...that sort of thing just makes me roll my eyes slightly and smile.

Yes, she can be socially tone deaf. So can I. I'm lucky enough that I have friends who call me out on it when I'm at my worst, and just roll their eyes and order another glass of wine when I'm just being ridiculous.

And maybe that's what appeals to me in part -- the idea that with Gwyneth, I'm the sane one. I'm the one who knows when she's being a privileged moron. I'm the one who gets to roll her eyes.

Anyway. All these things considered, naturally I was excited when I heard that Gwyneth had a cookbook coming out. For the most part, this was because I really do like her recipes. I'm never going to follow a whole lot of food rules, but I do like the idea of keeping my diet...cleaner, and both her own recipes and the ones she endorses from other sources generally do that.

For the other part...just think of the delightfully trainwrecky potential. Pages and pages of GOOPy prose, bound in an aesthetically pleasing package that I could treasure for years.

My Father's Daughter (we may talk more about that title -- and her recent appearance on Who Do You Think You Are?, and how I hope Blythe Danner's feelings aren't easily hurt -- at a later date) officially drops today, after a launch party that afforded Ruth Reichl and her cape of hair an unprecedented opportunity for name droppage (and misspelling. Gyneth? Really? Sounds filthy).

Through the magic of the interwebs, though, I got my copy last Wednesday, and I have to say... I really like it. It's the most aesthetically welcoming cookbook I've bought in a long time (and I buy more cookbooks than I need), and her co-writer deserves mad props for curbing the typically GOOPy prose so that it sounds like a suggestion rather than a royal decree ("here is what I do and why" rather than "one simply must").

I started tackling the recipes with her white bean soup, because my relationship with white beans is almost as troubled as my relationship with Gwyneth. I love them now -- in fact, I have a bunch of photographs saved up for an entire post on the different ways I love to eat white beans.

But when I was younger, I hated the things. In fact, one of the reasons I've held off on writing the aforementioned post is because I kept imagining my mother reading it, steam coming out of her ears as she thought back on all the dinners where I refused to eat pasta fagioli because I thought white beans were disgusting.

Anyway, Gwyneth's white bean soup starts off by heating some olive oil in your large soup pot over medium heat, and then cooking a thinly sliced bulb of fennel in it for ten minutes. This bit had me full of trepidation as my relationship with fennel is not at all complex -- I do not like it. It makes me think of Jaegermeister, which makes me think of the night I got my concussion, which is not a pleasant thought.

But I dutifully heated it, and then added a large yellow onion and 3 cloves of garlic (the recipe says two; I know myself and my needs). And then you clap a lid on that and cook it at low for about half an hour. Then you throw in a pinch (or more, in my case) of red chile flakes and a 1/4 tsp of oregano and a bit of fresh ground pepper.

To that, you pitch in 28 oz of cannellini beans (Gwyneth says two 14 oz cans; my cans are 15 oz each so I reserved a bit for use in a salad or something later in the week) and 2 pints of vegetable stock.

This gets brought to a boil, and then you lower the temperature to a simmer, clap the lid back on, and let it do its thing for an hour.

The result is this rich golden broth, and a house that smells quite lovely. You've then got two options as to how to serve it -- either tossing a bit of kale in, or serving it "French Onion" style by popping a bit of bread on the top, grating some Parmesan over it, and throwing it under the broiler for about a minute.

I went with the second option. I hadn't any kale around the house, but I did have a bit of leftover French bread going stale. And I always, always have Parmesan cheese.

Also, French Onion soup is one of my all time favorite things. Although I suppose you could say I have a complicated relationship with it too -- once, at the Red Robin at Tucson Mall, I got a piece of cheese that wouldn't tear off, and it just kept going and going down my throat until I nearly choked to death on it, and ended up having to gag it up at the table to save myself from an ignominious death by choking on cheap cheese at the Red Robin at Tucson Mall where I was at a table for one during my half hour break from my shift at Dillard's.

So like Gwyneth, French Onion soup had tried to kill me. Would the two of them together hatch some diabolical plot to put me out of business once and for all?

Nope. In fact, they would come together in a brilliant festival of deliciousness.

(note: clearly I did not use enough cheese, or I grated it too fine or something. I used a microplane. Maybe use a regular grater)

This soup? So good. Everything I love about French Onion soup, except without the murderous cheese. It tastes really rich and wonderful and warming, and there's something vaguely Thanksgiving-y about it. It was great for dinner on Monday night, and a perfect lunch for the crap rainy day we had yesterday.

So you win, Gwyneth. You win this round. I like your white bean soup a lot.

I still hate you on Glee though. (But in fairness, the things I don't hate about Glee has been awfully short this season)