Look at Your Life, Look at Your (Healthy) Choices: The Top Chef Texas recap

This is my sad face

It’s so nice that now that Bev has left the show all the rest of the cheftestants sit around singing her praises and talking about how much she’ll be missed and reflecting on her pluck and her indomitable spirit and reminiscing about all the good times they shared with her.

Or, uh, not.

Luckily, we are saved from the bitchfest by some bonus Charlize Theron who does that falsely humble thing that celebrities do when they encounter the little people: “You’re all my idols,” she says.

(Yeah, I’m so sure that Charlize Theron has a picture of Chris Jones hanging up on her wall at home.)

So Charlize is gone and our Top Chef world is just a little sadder and drabber and shorter because of it.

But no time to cry over lost glamazons, it’s time for the Quickfire Challenge.

Padma is standing in the kitchen with Emeril and Cat Cora, which would also be a great name for a villainess in a Bond film, by the way.

She—Padma, that is—puts the cheftestants into 3 teams: Grayson and Chris Jones, Paul and Edward, and Sarah and Lindsay. Those teams are not arbitrary, by the way. Padma—and by extension the show—has selected these teams. I mention this because it will come into play later.

Paul, for what it’s worth, feels “sick” that he’s partnered with his pal Edward. Every time they are paired together, Paul screws things up. (Self, meet fulfilling prophecy.)

This is a variation on the classic mise en place challenge (and by classic, I mean a Top Chef classic; as far as I know the mise en place challenge is not sweeping family game rooms across the country.)

The teams have to peel and de-vein butterfly shrimp, make a pound of pasta, and shuck a whole mess of corn.

Then they have to make a dish using those ingredients.

Hall monitors Lindsay and Sarah naturally finish first.

Then Paul and Edward.

Then sweaty, freaked out Chris and Grayson bring up the rear.

No sooner has Padma yelled “time!” that Paul realizes he forgot to add the shrimp.

It’s not like he and Edward were running around like maniacs. Quite the contrary, they were taking the time to decorate their plate with ornamental herbs.

“I forgot the shrimp,” Paul says, in such a resigned, fatalistic way that I begin to wonder if he’s actually part Jewish. (Yes, I’m allowed to make that joke.)

So the judges taste and they do that same thing they did to poor Beverly last week: Suggest that Paul and Edward would’ve won if only their shrimp dish had shrimp.

“But nice ornamental herbs!” says Padma. (Not really.)

Instead, the winners are  … Grayson and Chris!

Lindsay and Sarah respond in classic Lindsay and Sarah fashion.

 “Our dish was better,” sniffs Sarah. “It’s just that Cat Cora doesn’t like tarragon.”

Time for the Elimination Challenge, where they’ll be cooking head-to-head against their partner.

Now, I imagine the show did this to pit friend against friend, figuring it would ramp up the drama.

But here’s why it backfires: Everyone is so sickeningly supportive and nice to each other, the whole challenge becomes a ginormous snoozefest.

(It doesn’t help that it’s a lame challenge to begin with—create a healthy dish for a block party to benefit the San Antonio food bank—that seems more intended to placate a show sponsor—Healthy Choice—than generate some actual culinary fireworks.) (Just sayin’)

Now, if they really wanted excitement, they should’ve pitted crazed perfectionists Lindsay and Edward against each other and pitted Paul’s quiet intensity against Sarah’s loud intensity. (By default, Chris Jones and Grayson would’ve stayed partners, but let’s face it, they’re kinda filler at this point anyway.)

To Whole Foods they go, where Grayson has the entire staff doing her bidding: One employee is trailing behind her with a giant cart of watermelon and the guys at the butcher counter are running around like madmen to fill her order on time. Whole Food is basically Grayson’s bitch.

Also, there’s lots of backseat cart driving going on:

Chris thinks Grayson is screwing up by using mayonnaise (he’s using emulsified tofu. . .yum! yum!).

Paul wonders about Edward’s use of actual shortrib (he’s using turkey).

And Sarah thinks that Lindsay’s veal and lamb meatball isn’t exactly the “Healthy Choice.” (See what I did there?) (Ugh.)

They have two and a half hours to cook and then the floodgates open.

For some reason, Chris’s station is being attacked by marauding gangs of yellow jackets, which is bad times, especially since  he’s allergic. (True story, I got stung by two yellow jackets on the bottom of my foot last summer and I literally crumpled to the ground in pain. Crumpled.)

“What’s the less healthy version of your dish?” someone asks Paul.

“It’s over there,” Paul says, jerking his finger toward Edward’s station. Heh.

Actually, the worst part of Edward’s dish is that he made homemade buns for his “open faced” sandwiches, but they are self-serve. He’s expecting each guest to dutifully take one bun.

But I think Edward has been in Texas long enough to know that “moderation” and “restraint” are not exactly in the state vocabulary.

Everyone is taking two buns and one little whippersnapper actually grabs three.

So poor Edward has to be, like, the bun-catcher, grabbing stray buns off people’s plates. It’s awkward.

Does everyone remember Ryan Scott from Season 4? No, me neither.

But he is now a “Flavor Ambassador” for Healthy Choice, so good for him. I actually minored in “flavor ambassadoring” in college, so it’s nice to see someone making a career out of it.

Dana Cowan of Food and Wine magazine is helping with the judging, along with Emeril, Tom, Padma, and Pussy Galore (I mean, uh, Cat Cora.)

This is another one of those challenges where the guests actually vote for their favorite dish, which seems a bit unfair, considering that the more fatty and flavorful dishes would naturally have an edge, even though the challenge specifically called for healthier preparations.

Despite Padma insisting that “two of the healthiest dishes were the two best we ate”—it doesn’t quite play out that way.

The fans vote Paul, Grayson, and Lindsay into the Top 3. Of the three of them, Paul was the only one who went with a lot less fat than his counterpart (Grayson used mayonnaise—olive-oil-based, but still—and Lindsay, as you recall, used veal and lamb, which, last I checked, is still yummier than turkey).

Tom starts out by asking Grayson if she really thought that chicken salad could ever be the winning dish.

“You have to win this against other dishes that are potentially much more exciting than a chicken salad sandwich,” he says.

“Like a meatball?” Grayson asks sarcastically.

“Right,” says Tom, staring at her.

“Right,” says Grayson, staring back.

Right about now, I half expect a Whole Foods employee to emerge from stage left and konk Tom in the head.

Anyway, it comes down to Lindsay’s Greek meatball vs. Paul’s turkey kalbi with eggplant and white peach kimchi.

And Paul wins!!!! Paul wins!!! (Extra exclamation points to denote an excitement that none of us are actually feeling at this point.) (Love me some Paul but his winning is getting a little old.)

Paul gets $15,000 for the victory. At this point, I’m pretty sure he could buy and sell Andy Cohen several times over.

Back to the holding room, where Grayson licks her wounds.

“They wanted me to do more. Duly noted. Maybe I should be in there—” and she points to the judging room where Sarah, Edward, and Chris are meeting their fate.

What was up with those dense rolls? Tom asks Edward.

I wanted to avoid using the “empty calories” of rice, Edward explains.

“Bread is empty calories, too,” Padma snips.

(When will these contestants learn that there is no pulling the wool over Padma’s eyes? First of all, she has X-ray vision. Also, she only wears cashmere.)

As for Chris, he totally should’ve made his sandwiches to order, because the bread was dry. Also, there were chunks of ice in Emeril’s watermelon and pineapple smoothie.

Chris reacts to this news as if one those yellow jackets actually made it into the mix.

“I’m sorry,” he says, practically banging his head against a wall in shame. “That sucks.”

Ice in a smoothie!! Why? Why?

As for Sarah, her meatball was probably not bottom 3 material, but they quibble over the inconsistent veggie distribution of her salad.

And. . . Chris Jones is packing his knives and his little Pebbles hairdo and going home.

He gets the “reverse Beverly”: His fellow contestants are genuinely sad to see him go. In fact, they’re all having a moment of self-immolation.

“Jonesy’s going home and it’s my fault,” says Grayson. “The chicken salad was all my idea.”

“It should’ve been me Chris,” says Ed.

“I’m sorry, who’s going home?” says Paul.  “I was too busy counting my money.”

Next week, squee! Pee-Wee!!!!

Foiled Again! The Bachelor recap

One of these two people is totally in love

Okay, so I had a DVR malfunction and only caught hour 2 of The Bachelor last night.

My apologies. (Blame Gossip Girl and House—two shows long past their expiration dates that I nonetheless can’t stop watching. Old habits die hard, people.)

The first thing I caught was Courtney doing some sort of double reverse sneak attack on the group date and winning the rose.

I don’t even know how she did it, but I do know that she non-ironically likes to utter the phrase “winning!” which is so fitting because—from a mental health standpoint, at least—compared to her, Charlie Sheen is Tom Brokaw.

(Don’t you just love the way Courtney touches herself all the time—sometimes with a rose in her hand and sometimes without? It’s so deliciously cray-cray: It’s like her narcissism manifests in actual self-touching.)

Anyway, so yeah, I missed how Rachel got her rose. Did she have a solo date with Ben? If so, I can only assume it went something like this:

Rachel and Ben do some vaguely daredevily thing that he weaves into an elaborate metaphor about their future together:
“If we go-cart down a mountainside we can go-cart down the mountainside of life together.” Or somethin’ like that.

Then, lots of kissing.

Then, a romantic dinner, with Ben confessing to the camera that the connection he feels with Rachel is so real and so right and a little scary because he can totally see himself with her and she fits into his little Ben world like the missing piece of the little Ben world puzzle.
Then, more kissing.

Then he ambles off to the get the rose, she pretends to be surprised to get it, more kissing, and she floats home with the smug confidence of a woman who believes that she and Ben are in ♥ 4Evah! and 2Good2Be4Forgotten and all the other girls give her death stares from the couch.

(Am I anywhere close?)

All I know about the group date is that it seemed to be going one way—Kacie perhaps?—and then Courtney broke out the big guns—crying? threatening to leave?—and Ben was helpless in the face of her master manipulations. Poor sap.

Now onto what I did see:

Ben’s next solo date is with the guileless Jennifer. I worry a lot about Jennifer, because she seems so sweet and innocent and fragile, like a little lamb, if a lamb sported Colorsilk Luminesta 150 Red Permanent Hair dye by Revlon and killer abs.

So he and Jennifer go repelling into a crater (yeesh, is this The Bachelor or Fear Factor?) and Ben has a metaphor at the ready:

“Relationships are all about trust and diving into the unknown.”

Then they go swimming in the swampy, sure to be super sanitary crater water—once again, congratulations on those bodies, kids—and kiss a lot.

“Nothing can ruin this date!” gushes Jennifer. Cue the monsoon.

But they run through the monsoon together because they can “weather the storm of this monsoon they can weather the storm of life.” (Okay, Ben didn’t actually say that, but probably just because it ended up on the cutting room floor.)

Meanwhile, back at the house, Blakely is dying Emily’s hair—with foils.

First of all, I thought Blakely was a VIP cocktail waitress. This behavior is not befitting a VIP cocktail waitress. Second of all, even if she moonlights as hairstylist on the side, who the hell brings foils on a vacation? (Did she also pack a waitress tray and cocktail glasses?) Third of all, if you were competing in a reality TV show for the love of a man, would you let your competition anywhere near your hair? One false move with those foils and Emily looks like, well, Jennifer.

Back on the solo date, Jennifer is having the “best night of her life” (uh oh). “I’m falling for Ben,” she says. “I would be the perfect partner for him for life.” (Double uh oh.)

Once again, there is some sort of awkward concert with a semi-famous musician—Clay Walker—and once again, the bachelorette thinks Ben actually set this whole thing up himself.

“It makes me feel really special that Ben would set this up for me!” she says.

And by Ben, she means Next Entertainment Telepictures, the production company that produces The Bachelor (sometimes nicknamed “Ben.”).

Cocktail party time.

All the girls are sitting on the couch bad mouthing Courtney and when she enters the room, they go silent.

It’s actually hilarious. No one is even smart enough to even pretend that they weren’t all just talking shit about her. No one even offers a half-hearted, “Oh, Jamie was just telling us the funniest story. About somebody else. Who is definitely not you.”

Instead, they’re all exchanging looks like, “Awkward!”

And damned if Courtney doesn’t just slither over and sit on the edge of the couch and stare them all down, calm as you please.
Love that crazy bitch.

Meanwhile, Ben has asked to spend some quality alone time with Monica.

The whole Monica thing has been a bit of a bust, to be honest. I thought she was going to be a salty, feisty wise-cracking lesbian—the kind of character who would be played by Stockard Channing in the summerstock production of The Bachelor—but she’s really just receded into the background. She’s filler.

Anyway, Emily breaks up their one-on-one time, because she needs to tell Ben something very, very important—namely how wrong, misguided, and flatout dumb he is being about Courtney. (She’s not doing it for herself, people, she’s doing it for Ben.)

Hey future bachelors and bachelorettes of this world, can I give you a little unsolicited advice? Don’t be that guy. Don’t be the “so and so is totally different around the other bachelor/ettes then he/she is around you” guy. It never works. Never. You just seem like a narc and it kinda puts you in the friend zone and you’re also, indirectly at least, calling the star of a show a fool who’s being duped.

Ben even tries to give Emily an out.

First, she starts talking in generalities—although she has every intention of narc-ing on Courtney. (Her secret desire is that Ben will demand the name of this scheming infidel and immediately banish her from the house!)

“There is one girl who is very different around you than she around the rest of the girls,” Emily starts.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. And I don’t expect you to throw anyone under the bus,” Ben says.

It’s not too late, Emily! Run away! Run away!

“It’s COURTNEY!” Emily says.

And, in fact, Ben does take a  little offense. He’s basically like, “You do Emily and I’ll do Ben, m’kay?”

And she skulks back to the couch in shame.

“I think I just screwed up,” she says. Ya think?

But her mensa moment continues. She starts bitching about Courtney to Casey, the Paris Hilton lookalike, who also happens to be Courtney’s best (and only) friend in the house.

When will these girls learn? The Queen Bee always has a sidekick, someone who is pretty, but not as pretty as she is, and who will blindly obey and worship her.

So Casey immediately goes and tells Courtney about Emily’s tattling to Ben and Courtney FREAKS. OUT.

“I’m a nice person,” she says. (Oh, that's rich.) “But don’t f**k with me.  Emily should watch herself. I’ll shave her eyebrows off in the middle of the night. I just want to rip her head off and verbally assault her!”

(Just a suggestion, Court-Court: Reverse that order. Because once your head has been ripped off, the verbal assault stings a lot less.)

So Courtney marches up to the couch and confronts Emily and it’s really like Emily has brought a butter knife to a gun fight. She’s not even in Courtney’s league.

And Emily’s little face begins to screw up and her lip begins to quiver in a somewhat unattractive way and Courtney just laughs that crazy, maniacal, Glenn-Close-in-Fatal-Attraction laugh and says, “Good look, Emily! Winning! Winning!!!”

And I just want to get on my feet and applaud.

So rose ceremony dram-ah. Will he deep-six Monica or Emily?
It’s Monica—who actually cries in the limo.

“It sucks when somebody doesn’t feel the way you feel,” she says. (She’s talking about Blakely, right?)

Then Ben announces to the remaining girls: “We’re going to Vieques, Puerto Rico!”
And they’re all squeeing and jumping up and down except for Courtney, who says with a bored eyeroll, “I was just there two months ago.”

And if I were doing the Bachelor music, I would totally play the sad trombone sound, because it is such a perfect buzzkill. (Have I mentioned how much I love that crazy bitch?)

Next week, Ben goes skinny dipping with  . . . well, do I even have to say who?

And I promise to work out my adventures with digital video recording technology.

Food Fright: The Top Chef Texas recap

Who's the Plain Jane next to Charlize Theron?

 

If you were hoping that this episode was going to finally resolve the “how the hell do you pronounce Charlize Theron’s last name?” question once and for all, you’re out of luck.

We have 7 remaining contestants and roughly 7 different pronunciations—from Ther-in to Ther-on to the vaguely French sounding Thér-onnnn. (If Ty were still around, he’d pronounce it Ther-ön.) Such is life.

Anyway, before the show is graced by the one woman on the planet who can make Padma look frumpy, we have a fun Quickfire Challenge involving a conveyer belt.

And trust me when I say, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen a man with floppy rooster hair chasing after a lobster tail on a conveyer belt.

Here’s how the challenge works: 30 minutes are on the clock. The belt goes ’round and ’round, but much like the luggage carousel at the airport, you’ve got to wait longer if you want the “good stuff” (in the airport, the “good stuff” = your actual luggage; here, it’s the aforementioned lobster,  plus the likes of halibut and foie gras.)
Some contestants just say, screw it, and grab rice crispies and macadamia nuts and bitter melon.

Chris decides to wait for that brass ring—the lobster tail. He misses a few times, lunging hilariously, but eventually snags it.

Time runs out and Beverly hasn’t been able to add her curried rice crispies to her sockeye salmon so she’s screwed.

Edward, revealing a bit more about his sportsmanship than perhaps he intended, claims that she should’ve just “cheated” and thrown some curried rice crispies in the air as time expired, hoping a few stray puffs landed on her plate.

The whole crispies fiasco is made an even bigger deal when Chef Ripert announces that Beverly would’ve won—by a mile, no less—if she had just had some damn crispies on her plate.

In an ironic twist, Lindsay, who some people (specifically Lindsay herself) thought should’ve won the Restaurant Wars challenge, is the beneficiary of Beverly’s misfortune.

She wins the challenge and. . .immunity. (Cue ominous music.)

Snap-Crackle-Pop-gate is in full effect.

No time to obsess over that though, because a goddess has entered the room.

And because I’ve been so numbed by the show’s relentless product placement, I actually find it refreshing that they’re only shamelessly promoting a movie this time—Snow White and the Huntsman—instead of a mini-van or a frozen food product or a  tequila brand.

Charlize plays the Evil Queen in the film, and it’s apparently a very dark, macabre retelling of the story.

As such, the contestants are told to make a gothic feast fit for an evil queen.

Cool.

Unsurprisingly, Edward seems a little too amped up about making something evil.

And Chris knows that he’ll get to play with liquid nitrogen, so he’s like a kid in a molecular gastronomy store.

In the kitchen, glorious things are overheard like, “oooh, the maggots are everywhere!” and “my plate looks like a crime scene.” Good times.

Beverly is doing her Beverly thing: Namely, acting all cute and innocent as she bulldozes her way around the kitchen. (Also, she’s making halibut, people. Halibut. To prove to Lindsay that she DOES know how to cook the fish? Paul thinks so, and so do I.)

“She’s a bulldog, man,” says Graysen of Beverly. “That girl is tiny, but she’s crazy.”

Preach, Graysen, preach.

Anyway, the most charming thing about this episode is how nerdy and tongue-tied Tom Colicchio gets around Charlize Theron. He keeps trying to make these clever little jokes and they keep backfiring.

It’s funny to see a man who is sex symbol to many (including someone whose name rhymes with “faxthewhirl”) just totally lose his cool.

I will point out the various adorkable moments as they crop up. . .

“If I was going to make a dish that was evil, I would just make food and put poison in it,” gleefully announces Charlize Theron as the meal begins. She's joking. Right? Right?

Up first is Edward, who brings out his tuna tartare. He says that the good (Asian pear vinaigrette) is battling against the evil (black garlic ponzu) for the heart of the tuna tartare.

Also, fried fish scales are involved.

“You combine the good and the evil you get a politician!” says Tom. (Adorkable wooing attempt FAIL number one.)

Anyway, everyone loves the dish. (A theme will soon emerge.)

“I could eat this every day,” says Charlize Theron.

Next up Paul with his foie gras with bacon, pumpernickel, picked cherries, beets—and bloody hand print.

“It’s fantastic,” says Chef Ripert.

Now Padma, sticking to the script, asks Charlize to talk a little about her movie.

“We have 8 dwarves,” says Charlize.

“Is that a union issue?” cracks Tom. (Not the adorkable FAIL yet, but wait for it. . .)

“If we had an 8th dwarf,” says Padma.

“It would be Tom!” says Charlize.

“Well, at least I’m not Dopey!” says Tom. (And BOOM goes the dynamite!)

Next up, Beverly with her perfectly prepared (she asked me to emphasize that) seared halibut with red curry sauce and forbidden black rice.

Again, delicious. But maybe not macabre enough?

Lindsay has cleverly named her dish seared scallops over witches stew.

It’s really just seared scallops over a bean sauce, but by calling it “witches stew” she has everyone fooled.

Regardless, it’s apparently witchtastic.

“The queen would’ve made it with peasants, not pheasants!” Tom jokes. (Ding!) (That was the dork bell ringing, by the way.)

“Lindsay has immunity and she may not have needed it,” Padma reports.

Next Sarah with her amarone risotto and lamb’s heart.

“I’d like to give you the key to my lamb’s heart,” Tom says to Charlize. Okay, he doesn’t actually say that, but he was thinking it.

Charlize loves the heart: “I am the queen! I want to eat more of this heart!” She's joking again. . . right?

Next up, Grayson, with her slaughterhouse black chicken with dead chicken fetus (aka runny quail egg).

The judges agree that she “went for it.” (I'll say.)

Finally, Chris’s poison apple and cherry pie, with puffed rice crispie maggots. (Ironically, earlier today Beverly was referring to her rice crispies as maggots, but for different reasons.)

They love the drama of it.

It’s so him, they agree.

So the meal is over.

 “I loved this meal,” says Charlize.

“This is clearly the most exciting meal we’ve had on the show this season, by far,” says Tom

“It’s the best meal I’ve ever had on Top Chef,” reports Eric Ripert.

Uh oh, dilemma time people. All the dishes were great. What’s a judging panel to do?

“We’d like to see all of you,” Padma reports.

“The meal was spectacular!” Charlize tells them.

“We are here to please you,” says Edward, smooth as silk, as Tom glowers at him from the table.

And the winner is. . Paul!

The bottom 3 comes down to Graysen, Sarah, and Beverly.

Again, all three had great dishes. The judges are just nitpicking here.

Sarah’s risotto was slightly undercooked. Beverly’s sauce was slightly sticky. And Graysen’s greens were slightly salty.

Aaaand. . .  Beverly, please pack your knives and go.

Ouch. One rice crispie away from glory.

Instead, she must sadly take down the “Congratulations, Top Chef Beverly Kim!” sign from over her bed.

“I never threw anyone under the bus,” she says, keeping her chin up high.

Suffice it say, she never personally drove a bus over anyone, but she was definitely a backseat bus driver.

On a scale from 1 to 10, I feel like I’m going to throw up: The Bachelor recap

So this happened. . .

 

Oh, I learned so much last night.

I learned Ben’s kiss has restorative, redemptive, and possibly supernatural powers.

I learned that a thing called a “Leap List” exists, but only in an alternative TV universe sponsored by Honda.

I learned that Ben, much like a Miss America contestant, only knows how to play one song on the piano. (David Gray’s “This Year’s Love” for what it’s worth).

I learned that Shawntel—the femme fatale of funeral homes, the queen of caskets, the Elektra of embalmment—also exists. And for that I am grateful.

Okay, let’s take it from the top.

They are now in San Francisco, which is the second most meaningful place in the world to Ben, after Sonoma Valley. (Or maybe it’s the first most meaningful and Sonoma Valley is second, I can’t keep up with Ben and his passionate connections to various zip codes.)

“The only way to experience San Francisco is with Ben,” says Nicki. Really Nicki? Because I can think of 10 better ways to experience San Francisco, just off the top of my head.

First solo date goes to Emily, who is the oddly unspecific “PhD student” and therefore deemed “smart” by everyone.

Emily seems like a lovely girl and all, but I haven’t seen any evidence of this rapier intellect she supposedly possesses, just yet.

“Booksmart is a little boring,” sniffs Courtney. (But crazy never gets old.)

Emily responds to the datecard message—“Love Lifts Us Up”—in pretty much the way I react to all first dates: “What should I wear? Will he like me? Does this involve heights? Am I going to pee my pants?” (The answers, in no particular order: Yes, hell yes, maybe, and crampons.)

Turns out they are going to be scaling the Bay Bridge, which has also been on the kind of “Leap List” that inspires calls to 911, if you know what I mean.

Poor Emily is deathly afraid of heights and is, therefore, having a panic attack. So about halfway through the climb, she just stops. She can’t move forward, she can’t move backward. She will just waste away and die, right there, midway to the top of the Bay Bridge.

But luckily, Ben and his lifesaving lips are right behind her. He kisses her, and together, they scale the bridge.

“If Emily and I can climb to the top of the Bay Bridge together, there’s no telling how far we can take this relationship,” he says. Barf.

Next, they have dinner and Emily is side-eyeing that rose, which mocks her from the table.

“The two things in life that I’m most scared of are heights and. . .rejection.” (Followed closely by floppy hair and Jack Russell terriers.)

Ben puts her out of her misery, and quickly gives her the rose. Thank. God.

One of the other big themes of this season is voyeurism. The bachelorettes are always creeping around and watching Ben make out with other girls. Whatever floats your boat, ladies.

They take it to a whole next level during Ben’s date with Emily, actually watching the date, Rear Window-style, through a telescope.

(If you like Hitchcock and schadenfreude, you’ll love this season of The Bachelor!)

When fireworks go off, one girl says forlornly: “She totally got a rose.”
Another one says, “I’m so sad right now.”

:-(

Next, the group date, with its ridiculous Leap List concept.

A Leap List is a like a Bucket List but without the inconvenient dying part. You do it before major life milestones, like giving birth or getting married.

Now I consider myself something of an expert on cultural trends and the Leap List didn’t even ring a distant bell. Have I been living under a rock? Is everyone making Leap Lists but me? Am I being intentionally excluded from Leap List mania? Um, no.

Because Leap Lists are not a real thing, people, despite the fact that Rachel matter-of-factly describes what they are to her fellow bachelorettes.

It’s all part of this stupid Honda CR-V advertising campaign. I feel so used.

So anyhoo, the Leap List activity in this case is for Ben to see all the girls in bikinis—I mean, uh, ski in bikinis down one of San Francisco’s notoriously steep hills.

Ben is rockin’ the sk8ter boi look—ski cap, no shirt, board shorts. Me likey.

You're welcome

As that date is going on, the rest of the girls sit around waiting for the next solo date card. Everyone is expecting it to go to Lindzzzzzi, so the room is pretty stunned when it goes to Brittney. Who? Yeah, she’s the one who brought her granny to the first date, remember? Actually, it appears that Brittney herself has forgotten who she is. She looks truly shaken, bordering on horrified, to have received the datecard.

She has decided that this whole reality-TV dating life isn’t for her (if only there had been 15 previous seasons of the show to prepare her for what to expect!!).

“This really isn’t for me, so I’m going to go home,” she says.

“Noooo!” the other girls say. (Translation: “Yessssss!”)

Meanwhile, back on the group date, Ben is kissing Rachel, the stylist, and all the other girls are watching, because that’s how they roll.

Why don't you take a picture—it'll last longer!

Kacie takes it particularly hard and needs to steal a private moment alone with Ben. He comforts her with one of his magical kisses and she feels better about things.

(Just as a social experiment, Ben should try kissing Benjamin Netanyahu and Mahmoud Abbas and see if it brings about peace in the Middle East.)

Anyway, since Brittney is gonzo, Lindzzzi takes over for her on the one-on-one date.

For her evening sight-seeing trip around San Francisco, she decides to wear the single most painful-looking pair of stilettos I have ever laid eyes on. It’s excrutiating to watch her stagger down the street. (She probably would’ve worn those on the scale-the-Bay-Bridge date, too. Hey, a girl’s gotta keep up appearances. )

They take a trolley, eat some Rice-a-Roni (that joke just totally dated me), and then Ben has the key to City Hall—because he is San Francisco’s most beloved son—and they have the place to themselves.

“I don’t know who this guy is, but he’s kind of amazing,” Lindzzzi says.

(She does realize that Ben doesn’t usually carry around the key to City Hall, right? Also, fireworks don’t usually go off when he kisses someone. And he can’t summon snow at will.)

They step inside and it’s that awkward moment when Matt Nathanson is getting his big break on national TV and after a few half-hearted dance moves you basically ignore him and make out.

Can we kiss yet?

“I  don’t normally kiss. . .boys on the first date,” Lindzzzi says. (And somewhere, back at the house, Monica’s ears are perking up.)

Then they go to this kinda gimmicky, but kinda cool Speakeasy place and Lindzzzzi tells Ben about her horrible breakup.

Ben’s internal monologue: You think you had a horrible breakup? Ha! My humiliating proposal rejection has aired repeatedly on national TV! I had to exit, alone, on a rickety little boat—the S.S. Misery!

Lindzzzi: I got a text that said, ‘Welcome to Dumpsville, Population You.’”

Ben’s internal monologue: You win.

So Lindzzzzi gets a pity rose—just kidding, Ben seems to really like her—and they go back to the house for the cocktail party and rose ceremony.

“Nothing can ruin tonight,” says Lindzzzi. She doesn’t actually say, “Unless that mortician bitch from Brad’s season shows up unexpectedly,” but it’s implied.

First a few pre-Shawntel highlights of the cocktail party:

Ben tells Jennifer she’s the bestest kisser in the whole wide house and she’s positively floating on air and then lets it slip out in an interview that she “loves him.” Oh girl, check yourself before you wreck yourself.

Ben takes Courtney (“who is super mellow and drama free!” he had insightfully informed his sister) on the roof and grants her one of his elixir kisses. He’s super into her.

(Good news: Shawntel’s presence throws things so far out of whack, Courtney actually slips up and exposes her inner Mean Girl to Ben! More on that soon.)

So Elyse—who is a person, I believe, who is on the show. . .I think— is getting some alone time with Ben and that’s when Shawntel sashays into the scene.

So yeah, Shawntel in the house. Not an ex girlfriend but they’ve .  . . talked? Had a connection? It’s a little confusing how they even know each other (possibly a key party at Mike Fleiss’ house?)—but Ben seems extremely flustered and flattered by her arrival.

And the other girls are positively freaking out. I mean, they all have the vapors or something. (In Erika’s case, quite literally.)

I’m not quite sure why Shawntel’s presence sent them all into such a tailspin but I guess they were pretty much on edge to begin with.

Some quotes about Shawntel:

“You guys, if he kisses her, I’m going home right now.”-Emily.

“This isn’t what I signed up for. If she stays I’m out.”- Courtney

“She says she’s here for Ben and I’m not okay with it.” -Nicki.

“I’ll be perfectly honest, I don’t like the bitch.” - Rachel.

“I hope these women are gracious and welcoming.” –Bachelor Ben.

So they all line up for the rose ceremony and some sort of teamster gets in the shot—a real friend of Tony Soprano type—and I’m thinking maybe he’s also there to protect Shawntel in case one of the other girls puts a hit out on her?

Erika gets the aforementioned vapors and Jaclyn cries and cries and cries (and utters the awesome phrase of my title) and Shawntel looks defiant—but Ben decides to gets rid of all three of them.

Good move, Bachelor Ben.

“See ya!” trills Courtney to Shawntel—in front of Ben!!! “Sayonara!”

(Earlier she had referred to Shawntel as “what’s her butt”—in front of Ben!!!!)

Exactly how mellow and drama free does she seem NOW?

Ball's in your court, Bachelor Ben. I’m sure you’ll do the wrong thing.

Sometimes You Feel Like a Nut: The Top Chef Texas recap

Beverly oversells her "surprised" face

 

Since I no longer can indulge my favorite guessing game—Malibu Chris: Friend of Dorothy or just a really close acquaintance?—I can now turn to my second favorite guessing game: Beverly: Sweet as a basket of baby sloths or stealth assassin?

Once again, I’m struck by the fact that Beverly, while clearly being an adorable, moptopped underdog who you just want to hug and feed chicken soup to, is also quite possibly. . .a deadly ninja.

And last night may’ve been her best work yet.

All the girls on Team Half Bushel kind of mowed her over (well, with the exception of Graysen, who, as usual, managed to rise above the fray). They bossed her around, they patronized her, they treated her like she was some sort of assistant to the assistant to the assistant sous chef, and she quietly took their crap, diligently perfecting her one dish and following Lindsay’s prep instructions to the letter.

“I’m just doing what she told me to do” she shrugged of Lindsay’s increasingly moisture-free halibut.

And look what happened people. Look. What. Happened.

So yeah, in case you hadn’t figured it out, it’s Restaurant Wars, broken into a convenient battle of the sexes package.

Edward is not intimidated.

“The girls are good, but the boys are more talented,” he says, adding, “Sarah knows flavor, but we know her weakness is barbecuing out in the sun.”

Seriously, dude, let it go.

Instead of the usual practice—two concurrent services—there will be two separate services in the same space over the course of two nights.

I wonder if this is because all the Imodium in the world can’t make judging 4 appetizers, 4 entrees, and 4 desserts in one night go down easy.

The cheftestants begin strategizing. Both teams come up with the exact same concept. If you guessed: Indian street food, you’d be wrong! It’s the incredibly original farm to table.

At this point, I’m convinced that every kitchen in every restaurant across the country is doing some variation on the farm-to-table, elegantly rustic, upscale comfort food theme.  (It’s just a matter of time before there will be an option of salt, pepper, or dirt in your condiment dispensers).

I mean, look, I like a pork belly or a free range chicken or an organic beet salad as much as the next hungry blogger, but there are other kinds of cuisine out there people. Food trends have become as insidious as fashion trends (jeggings for everyone!) and movie trends (that would look so much better in post-production 3D!). 

In keeping with this rustic theme, the boys have decided to call their restaurant Compost (just kidding, Canteen) and the girls have decided to call their restaurant Gristle (okay, Half Bushel).

The boys go first.

They geniusly decide to put Edward out front, because nothing says “welcome!” quite like a shifty jaw, a bloody appendage, and a scowl.

He’s doing a pretty good job in his usual fueled-by-rage way, but he keeps inadvertently revealing his anxiety.

“Wow, you’re on time!” he says nervously to the first group to arrive.

“Wow, you’re all lining up!” he says a few minutes later, as customers just. keep. arriving. “We must be doing something right—heh, heh.” Ummm, no.

Meanwhile, the guys are so busy cooking they forgot a basic component of Restaurant 101: Expediting.

Last I checked, a huge part of that farm-to-table thing is actually getting the food on the table.

Quoth Rick Perry: Oops.

They try several things: First Edward is expediting. That doesn’t work. Then Umlaut is expediting. Uh, no. Then Paul, who has basically gone all Angelo on us and is cooking almost every dish, decides he’s also going to expedite.

Padma, who misses nothing (seriously, she probably knows that I forgot to floss this morning) notices all the shuffling in the kitchen.

“Ty is in his apron outside the kitchen,” she informs the table.

“They’re really in the trees right now,” Emeril says. (Is that like being in the weeds, but worse?)

“And now Paul is outside the kitchen,” she says.

“I think Edward may’ve just farted,” she notes a few minutes later. (Joke.)

As for the food: They’re not in love with anything.

But mostly, they freak out because Edward’s Almond Joy bar has no coconut.

Tom seems to take this personally.

“It can’t be an Almond Joy without coconut,” he sputters. “If you’re not going to have coconut, just don’t call it an Almond Joy!”

Later he adds, “The coconut is the best part!”

Good lord, somebody get this man some coconut.

“The best that we can hope for now is that the girls all blow up at each other and screw up worse than we did,” sighs Edward.

Well, let’s just see about that. . .

Day Two: girls up to bat.

They decide to put Lindsay up front. Again, slightly strange choice. Lindsay has a Tracy Flick-like quality about her—her perfectionism is sharp-edged. (It comes as ZERO surprise that she was the prom queen and graduated at the top of her class in college.)
Like Edward, she doesn’t exactly project warmth. (Where’s Graysen when you need her?)

But the funniest thing about Lindsay is that she Honey Badgers it: She really doesn’t give a damn.

The judges—the judges!—have to stand around waiting for their table (cleverly, the girls have provided a little lemonade in a cooler for them to sip on) and she is unfazed by this.

“I can’t be in three places at one time,” she says.

Yeah, but if one of those three places contains the judges who are deciding your fate, it might behoove you to triage in favor of that place.

“I’d be walking a little faster if I had 12 people at my door,” says Padma.

The kitchen is, inevitably, a Beverly-bashing zone, but her little lip quivers and she just keeps perfecting her one dish. (Sorry I keep harping on that one dish thing: But how did she manage to pull that off? It’s no wonder her dish ruled, it’s pretty much all she had to worry about). (See? Ninja.)

The boys come in, too (forgot to mention that the teams are dining at each other’s restaurants) and service begins.

The judges note that there isn’t quite as happy a buzz in Half-Bushel as there was in Canteen. (That's because when Edward smiles, the world smiles back.)

They also have to wait much longer for the food. But once it comes, they forget their troubles and get happy.

They adore Grayson’s peach salad with pickled shallots and bacon vinaigrette (yes please) and also Sarah’s Arancino with Buffalo mozzarella. And they want to marry Beverly’s braised shortribs with Thai basil and kimchee.

Over at the boys table, Chris J. is happily munching on his shortrib.

“This is the nicest dinner I’ve had since we got here,” he says innocently.

Edward shoots daggers at him.

(BTW, why do I find it strangely endearing that Chris J. is a Trekkie? I knew he was a food nerd, but now I know he comes by it honestly. Kobiyashi Maru for life!—whoever that is.)

The judges assess their two meals. Basically, the service was better at Canteen. The food was better at Half Bushel. Decisions. . . decisions.

Padma wants to see the ladies.  . .

They skulk into the judging room.

She grills them about how long it took to get seated.

They squirm.

“Do you think you did better than the boys?”
“Yes,” says Beverly firmly, quickly, ninja-style.

“Yes,” says Sarah tentatively (she has approximately twice the bravado but half the confidence of Beverly).

“Well, congratulations ladies. You had our favorite restaurant!”

There is squeeing and hugging and more squeeing, until Padma names the overall winner: Beverly.

WTFs are exchanged among everyone not named Beverly, who has to pretend to look surprised.

“Burn, burn, burn!” I write in my notes.

Ha. The girls head back to the holding room, buoyed by triumph but puzzled by Beverly’s sneaky win.

“We couldn’t have done it without Lindsay,” says Sarah. Surely, what she meant to say was “Congratulations Beverly, on a well-earned victory!”

Time to send the boys in front of the firing squad.

“The bottom line, the food just didn’t wow us,” says Tom. “All of you get an F here. Any one of you could go home for the mess that was Canteen.”  (Huh. So maybe “Mess Hall” would’ve been a more appropriate name?)

And all the umlauts in the world can’t save Ty-Lör from his fate. He’s göing höme.