Sometimes a post is not a dish best served cold. Happy Bohrer Day seemed much farther off when I said I would start posting again. I thought I could whip this into something entertaining. Instead I found that I had waited so long that I no longer remembered details, and I was left with these sketchy notes. You may still find something tasty in there, or you may pop the lid and be sent fleeing from the moldy remains.
Your milage may vary.
First, the recap:
Wrong, Wrong, Wrong! Bad Judges! Bad!
We're in Aspen! Hung thinks the lift passes are movie tickets, they ride to the top of the mountain, and they're presented with a ton of ingredients. They're told that there will be no wacky challenges, they just have to present the best three-course meal they've ever made. Have they seen the show?
So they cooked and stuff... Oh, and there were some celebrity sous chefs and they brought back some of the last chefs to be eliminated. Hi, Second Sara, we love you! Brian, well, he got to eat with the judges, so he had that goin' for him.
The Producers' M. Night Shamalamadingdong Tweest was that halfway through prep, the judges revealed that the chefs would have to come up with and prepare a fourth course and get it ready within the hour they had remaining. How will they handle the pressure?
Hung won the first course. Mohawk won the second. Hung won the third course. Mohawk won the last. Yeah, Casey got shut out completely. Ouch. Sucks to be her.
The judges deliberated. Then they revealed on National Television that they can't follow their own criteria.
Here's why:
If they're comparing the results of the rounds, head to head, like they said they were, Mohawk won it. Radicchio said that the two best dishes were equally good. In their comments on the two second-best dishes, they had complaints about Hung's, but not Mohawk's. So if their best dishes were equally good, and Mohawk's second winning dish was better than Hung's second winning dish, it seems clear that in the head to head, they tied on the quantity of winning dishes, but Mohawk won on the quality of the dishes.
So how about the challenge they tossed out? If it's important enough to give the challenge, it should be important enough to judge the challenge. How did they do under pressure? Mohawk improvised on the spot and pulled off one of the best dishes of the night with his Scallops and Purslane. Hung pulled out a recipe that he'd brought for some crappy ass Applebee's dessert and nobody was all that excited about it. Hey, Hung, your monkey can make chocolate cake and whipped cream. My mom can make chocolate cake and whipped cream.
So by my reckoning, Mohawk wins the the head to head and the challenge. Why are they still deliberating?
Instead of relying on the best dishes, head to head, and instead of relying on the challenge results as a tie breaker, they looked at the worst dishes of the night... or at least, the worst dishes of the night not prepared by Casey. Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't they say over and over through the season that it was not enough to not be the worst chef? In any case, they decided that Mohawk's worst dish was worse than Hung's worst dish, so Hung won it.
They're the judges, I guess. Even though they're wrong.
The biggest issue is this: They said that it doesn't come down to a more fundamental question than "Would you hire this person to run your kitchen?" Hands down, Hung fails that test. Except for technical expertise, he never displayed the qualities they said they were looking for. He was wildly inconsistent, he never took an ounce of responsibility, and the only time he ever displayed an ability to work as a part of a team was when Second Sara took charge and made everyone toe the line in Restaurant Wars. This isn't Top Sous Chef, and there's no way in hell I'd let him run my kitchen.
And finally, Hung served up not one, but two dishes garnished with cat spit in the final. Enough with the fucking foam already. Can we get an automatic disqualification for foam in Season 4?
But you know... I'm not bitter or anything.
On to the reunion!
Reunited and it Feels So Good
"What was your favorite challenge? Clay?"
I laughed so hard at that. Too bad Clay didn't get the joke. Thanks for playing, Clay. There are some bagels in the Green Room. Help yourself to the leftovers on the way out. I thought that was definitely the highlight of the show.
A close second was when Padma told Howie he didn't get to have an opinion about the Grocery Aisle challenge because he didn't actually make anything.
Aside from the quote I led off with, Mohawk had the best lines of the night: "I've always wanted a montage!" and "It's Chicken Cordon Blow!"
Hung tried to say that the person acting like a dick week after week was not you. All I'm sayin' is, that guy bore a strong resemblance to Hung. The distinction between the kind of person who is a dick to try and make a few bucks, and one who acts like a dick to try and make a few bucks may make sense to Jesuits and Republicans, but not to me.
The love connection movie was amusing.
It was nice to see Sassy Lia again.
The dancing was amusingly bad, but not amusingly bad enough.
I'm sure there was other stuff I enjoyed... but I'm drawing a blank. I should have served this when it was fresh.
What am I missing? What did I lose to freezer burn?
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Happy Birthday
Happy Birthday, Corinne. Love ya! (But not in that creepy internet stalker way.)
You know, I've been thinking about my congenital snarkiness recently, and it occurred to me that if she were to google herself and stumble across my blog, she might not see my adoption post in the affectionate way that it was intended. She might, in fact, think that I'm kind of a dick.
Sorry. Mea culpa. I have, as my regular readers will attest, a genetic predisposition.
She's made a career doing something that she loves and people appreciate her for doing it, even if some of them are freaks or assholes. We could all do worse.
So Happy Birthday, Corinne, and the offer still stands. If you ever need a place to crash, the Villa del Punto Muerto is always open.
You know, I've been thinking about my congenital snarkiness recently, and it occurred to me that if she were to google herself and stumble across my blog, she might not see my adoption post in the affectionate way that it was intended. She might, in fact, think that I'm kind of a dick.
Sorry. Mea culpa. I have, as my regular readers will attest, a genetic predisposition.
She's made a career doing something that she loves and people appreciate her for doing it, even if some of them are freaks or assholes. We could all do worse.
So Happy Birthday, Corinne, and the offer still stands. If you ever need a place to crash, the Villa del Punto Muerto is always open.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Silent Running
Instead of trying to get out a few half-assed posts while trying to keep my head above water at work, I'm going to take a brief hiatus until Corinne Bohrer Day, when I will return with the kind of full-assed posts you've come to expect.
I'll catch up on my comments in the meantime, but to answer one: yes, an NYC blogger summit sounds fabulous. I think I should have most of the evenings of October 30th and 31st open, but I realize that everyone probably has the 31st booked. I have to work bright and early on the 31st and I have to catch a flight back on the 1st, so I will have to limit the debauchery to something in the half- to three-quarter-Caligula range. Please don't hold it against me... unless the "it" in question is something that I might enjoy having held against me.
If those dates won't work out, let me know. I'll actually be in town starting on the 26th, but I won't have as much of my evening free and I'll have to be up even earlier. Since work is paying the tab, I'm kind of stuck with their schedule, and it's just a little bit horribly inconvenient.
I'll catch up on my comments in the meantime, but to answer one: yes, an NYC blogger summit sounds fabulous. I think I should have most of the evenings of October 30th and 31st open, but I realize that everyone probably has the 31st booked. I have to work bright and early on the 31st and I have to catch a flight back on the 1st, so I will have to limit the debauchery to something in the half- to three-quarter-Caligula range. Please don't hold it against me... unless the "it" in question is something that I might enjoy having held against me.
If those dates won't work out, let me know. I'll actually be in town starting on the 26th, but I won't have as much of my evening free and I'll have to be up even earlier. Since work is paying the tab, I'm kind of stuck with their schedule, and it's just a little bit horribly inconvenient.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Evil Dictation
Young Master Yen, Ze Evil Dictator, has pierced the Veil of SecrecyTM and asked 5 questions. I have responded with 5 answers, thusly:
If you could switch places with any dictator in history who would you switch with?
The Weimar Republic looks like a great party destination: it's decadent, it's German, it's stylish, and the architecture is fabulous. Despite the lack of high-speed internet access, it seems pretty cool, even if you have to burn Deutschmarks to keep warm. We could skip the Holocaust, go straight to the conquering the world bit, and there's not a chance in hell I'd wear that silly moustache.
Unfortunately, because we're switching places, Adolph Hitler is right out. My family and friends would never forgive me for dumping that little Austrian douchebag on them. Just as well... I'm hell on wheels at Risk, and we'd probably all be blogging in German. I don't know about you, but I can never remember how to get the umlauts to show up right.
I think I'll have to go with Fidel Castro. He seems like a decent enough guy that I wouldn't mind foisting him off on you guys, I'd get to hang with Che, and I'd get to make a whole slew of American presidents look like jackasses. Who wouldn't love that?
I'm not wild about the heat, but there would be plenty of rum, great old cars, and I think I've mentioned that I like a little hot, spicy Caribbean now and then.
I'm talking about food, people... This is a family post.
If you had a rock band what would you name them?
Like most of us, I've come up with and forgotten hundreds of great band names, so I came up with a brand new one just for this interview: Richard Scarry's Best Punk Band Ever. Of course, our first CD would have to be Richard Scarry's Loudest Punk CD Ever.
And yes, in the first draft, that said "album" instead of "CD". I'm old.
George Bush has publicly announced that he is the fourth reich, would you start a riot or eat cake?
I would have my cake and riot too. Angel food would be nice, or that raspberry fudge torte from Sweet Indulgence. I think that would go nicely with a tall, cold glass of kicking ass.
If your in a room with a shotgun, which politician would be in that same room with you?
Dick Cheney, because I'm a huge fan of irony.
In Chicago the newspaper wrote how many starbucks are in each neighborhood, about five neighborhoods have twelve alone, what is your
reaction to this true madness?
I'd have to take a stroll down to my local independent coffee shop, Caffe Paradiso, for a large cappuccino, extra shot, to mull it over. I've given up trying to understand why people go to Starbucks when there are such good alternatives. Maybe it has something to do with the extra f.
If you could switch places with any dictator in history who would you switch with?
The Weimar Republic looks like a great party destination: it's decadent, it's German, it's stylish, and the architecture is fabulous. Despite the lack of high-speed internet access, it seems pretty cool, even if you have to burn Deutschmarks to keep warm. We could skip the Holocaust, go straight to the conquering the world bit, and there's not a chance in hell I'd wear that silly moustache.
Unfortunately, because we're switching places, Adolph Hitler is right out. My family and friends would never forgive me for dumping that little Austrian douchebag on them. Just as well... I'm hell on wheels at Risk, and we'd probably all be blogging in German. I don't know about you, but I can never remember how to get the umlauts to show up right.
I think I'll have to go with Fidel Castro. He seems like a decent enough guy that I wouldn't mind foisting him off on you guys, I'd get to hang with Che, and I'd get to make a whole slew of American presidents look like jackasses. Who wouldn't love that?
I'm not wild about the heat, but there would be plenty of rum, great old cars, and I think I've mentioned that I like a little hot, spicy Caribbean now and then.
I'm talking about food, people... This is a family post.
If you had a rock band what would you name them?
Like most of us, I've come up with and forgotten hundreds of great band names, so I came up with a brand new one just for this interview: Richard Scarry's Best Punk Band Ever. Of course, our first CD would have to be Richard Scarry's Loudest Punk CD Ever.
And yes, in the first draft, that said "album" instead of "CD". I'm old.
George Bush has publicly announced that he is the fourth reich, would you start a riot or eat cake?
I would have my cake and riot too. Angel food would be nice, or that raspberry fudge torte from Sweet Indulgence. I think that would go nicely with a tall, cold glass of kicking ass.
If your in a room with a shotgun, which politician would be in that same room with you?
Dick Cheney, because I'm a huge fan of irony.
In Chicago the newspaper wrote how many starbucks are in each neighborhood, about five neighborhoods have twelve alone, what is your
reaction to this true madness?
I'd have to take a stroll down to my local independent coffee shop, Caffe Paradiso, for a large cappuccino, extra shot, to mull it over. I've given up trying to understand why people go to Starbucks when there are such good alternatives. Maybe it has something to do with the extra f.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Chapter 8
Wherein the author is not, despite the name, actually dead per se.
I was going to blog about last night's weirdness, but the more I think about it, perhaps I won't. Parts of it were amusing, but it had a tragic twist in the tail that makes me not want to laugh about the earlier stuff. Instead, allow me to present a few rules for polite society.
Try not to mix alcohol and regret. It's the kind of thing that starts out seeming like a good idea and ends up with you on a stranger's doorstep trying to convince them that they are supposed to give you a ride home. (We walked. There was a little staggering into bushes, but no vomiting, so it went better than I had hoped.)
If you do find yourself on somebody's doorstep needing help to get home, no matter how confident you are that you know the way, lead with your address. It'll simplify things.
If you are just a garden-variety fuck up, pull your shit together and solve your own problems. You're sucking up people's ability to cope with actual problems. People should not be sharing their horrible news with me in the middle of the night because the rest of their family is too busy dealing with you. If your problems are your own fault, suck it up and deal, asshole.
And finally, I'm much more comfortable with the whole "crying on shoulder" thing when it remains strictly metaphorical, but you've gotta do what you've gotta do.
S'aright? S'aright. Let's move on.
There will probably not be a Top Chef recap today. Recaps are, like gazpacho and revenge, best served cold. Right?
Work continues to be a crushing grind. Did I mention that I'll be in New York at the end of October?
I was going to blog about last night's weirdness, but the more I think about it, perhaps I won't. Parts of it were amusing, but it had a tragic twist in the tail that makes me not want to laugh about the earlier stuff. Instead, allow me to present a few rules for polite society.
Try not to mix alcohol and regret. It's the kind of thing that starts out seeming like a good idea and ends up with you on a stranger's doorstep trying to convince them that they are supposed to give you a ride home. (We walked. There was a little staggering into bushes, but no vomiting, so it went better than I had hoped.)
If you do find yourself on somebody's doorstep needing help to get home, no matter how confident you are that you know the way, lead with your address. It'll simplify things.
If you are just a garden-variety fuck up, pull your shit together and solve your own problems. You're sucking up people's ability to cope with actual problems. People should not be sharing their horrible news with me in the middle of the night because the rest of their family is too busy dealing with you. If your problems are your own fault, suck it up and deal, asshole.
And finally, I'm much more comfortable with the whole "crying on shoulder" thing when it remains strictly metaphorical, but you've gotta do what you've gotta do.
S'aright? S'aright. Let's move on.
There will probably not be a Top Chef recap today. Recaps are, like gazpacho and revenge, best served cold. Right?
Work continues to be a crushing grind. Did I mention that I'll be in New York at the end of October?
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Flan Pressed
Up, up and away,
in my beautiful balloon.
So glad Hung's knifeless.
Frying Pan River?
You've Got To Be Kidding Me.
Who Named This Shit, Dude?
Trout cooked on a stump
is not seafood, says Brian.
Really? Are you sure?
Hung is done so fast.
Did his monkey bring lemon?
'Cause Hung sure didn't.
Hung Don't Know Cowboys
Like The Mohawk Knows Cowboys.
It's A Rodeo!
Yippie kai yi yay!
Them cowboys love some baked beans.
Thus sayeth the Hung.
Mohawk's cheese tart sucks.
Today, pressure is his friend.
Cauli-tatoes rock.
Cooking's for sissies.
Cowboys are like cavemen, right?
Casey serves raw elk.
Dublyuh tee eff?
Brian wears a cowboy hat.
No one is impressed.
Judges' Table Time:
Three Go To The Finals. One?
Pack Your Knives and Go.
Condescending Hung,
Mohawk kicked your ass real good.
Taste the justice, dick.
The judges have seen
Enough of frat boy antics.
Brian is sent home.
in my beautiful balloon.
So glad Hung's knifeless.
Frying Pan River?
You've Got To Be Kidding Me.
Who Named This Shit, Dude?
Trout cooked on a stump
is not seafood, says Brian.
Really? Are you sure?
Hung is done so fast.
Did his monkey bring lemon?
'Cause Hung sure didn't.
Hung Don't Know Cowboys
Like The Mohawk Knows Cowboys.
It's A Rodeo!
Yippie kai yi yay!
Them cowboys love some baked beans.
Thus sayeth the Hung.
Mohawk's cheese tart sucks.
Today, pressure is his friend.
Cauli-tatoes rock.
Cooking's for sissies.
Cowboys are like cavemen, right?
Casey serves raw elk.
Dublyuh tee eff?
Brian wears a cowboy hat.
No one is impressed.
Judges' Table Time:
Three Go To The Finals. One?
Pack Your Knives and Go.
Condescending Hung,
Mohawk kicked your ass real good.
Taste the justice, dick.
The judges have seen
Enough of frat boy antics.
Brian is sent home.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Olfactory Hallucinations
I spent yesterday afternoon cutting these out of my back yard, and I'm still, after several showers and changes of clothes, smelling them out of the corner of my nose. Tree of Heaven? More like Tree of Stank.(administrivia)
I haven't even started on my Top Chef recap... crushing deadlines at work. I'll get on it, and hopefully get it posted before the second part. I will not resort to haiku unless sorely pressed.
(/administrivia)
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