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Anthony Bourdain:
While former rodeo clowns constitute a major part of MY show's demographic (they like to watch on satellite from their meth labs), I don't really know what they were doing in the semi-finals of a cooking competition. It was confusing. Not just to me -- but to the contestants. Were these REAL cowboys? Or post-ironic cowboys?
Given the dearth of suitable English adjectives in the mountains of Andorra (a country you probably haven't even heard of), from whence Ripert hails, I hope he won't mind if I translate his comments: "Dry elk shank ... horseradish ... sour cream ... bourbon ... red wine, balsamic vinegar, garlic, cherries, sage butter ... and now you want me to choose between overwhelming blue cheeses? What the **** is THAT about?!"
Tom Colicchio:
Sadly, all the funny shtick in the world couldn’t save the dish. Nor could the mystifying blue cheese options -- the dish didn’t need a pungent Roquefort or Gorgonzola to finish it, and leaving the choice of cheese to the guest seemed wishy-washy and inconclusive.
Ted Allen:
(An aside: Dale, does your mother need the Brokeback Mountain visual of you sleeping with “a few” cowboys? And how many is “a few?” Bad gay chef!)
Rocco DiSpirito:
I’m not sure if this episode of Top Chef reminded me of the Marx Brothers film Go West, Jim Carrey’s Dumb and Dumber, or Billy Crystal’s City Slickers. Whatever, it might as well have been set in Dead Man’s Gulch. Between the bales of hay, cowboy hats, and chaps, you might have confused the Aspen scenery with the back lot of MGM studios. All that was missing was Jim Carrey riding up on his mini bike or Jack Palance to start doing push-ups, and casting would have been complete.
Even [Eric Ripert] had the bemused look of “oh la la, ridiculous” when he walked away from the TCCs saying, “Good luck. You’re going to need it.” I had this image of Tom, Eric, Gail, and Padma all sitting in director’s chairs, cross-legged, sipping espresso as they watched our poor TCCs toil away.
Brian starts the Cirque de Ho-down off by burning sage, presumably to drive out the negative energy left behind by...the donkeys?
Perhaps if you were to wrap the elk in bacon and lard it with bacon and serve it with bacon bits and a thick butter sauce for good measure it might not taste like warmed cardboard.
Post note: For those of you who adore chefly humor, please laugh at the latest maniacal delusions of Bourdain and Ruhlman.
Anthony Bourdain:
...the Trial of The Chicken is traditionally seen as a near religious passage, a station of the cross, an early task on the One True Path to chefdom. Just as it is widely believed that "you can tell everything you need to know about a cook by how he makes an omelet", the cooking of a simple chicken makes an open book of whoever prepared it.
I don't care how fine Brian's “Sausage Shepherd's Pie (with Chicken)” tasted. Let's assume it was indeed, delicious. Spectacularly so. I would argue that it was an effort more redolent of chickenshit than actual chicken.
Ted Allen:
Let’s put aside Top Chef’s decision to portray him as the sweet, lovable gay guy. Dale has capital-B balls.
Rocco DiSpirito:
At the Judge’s Table [Sara] tried to tell some story about how she is reserved. Yeah, like a banjo at a square dance.
[Dale] said something about how you could tell who got laid the night before by their food. If that is true, I would hate to know what happened to him the night before this challenge when he decided to do a duet of two things, neither of which tasted good.
Tom Colicchio:
Bourdain called [Sara's salmon] 'cat food' (the man lives for those snarky sound bytes) which, once I stopped laughing, I found a bit harsh.
The oven's dry heat somehow turned the blanched broccolini into musty, desiccated swamp vegetables punctuated by a bracing, medicinal slap of warm mint.
Gail Simmons:
From the description alone, CJ’s entire dish of Pan Seared Halibut on a bed of Toasted Farro with Mint Crème Sauce, Roasted Broccolini with Breadcrumbs and Mint Vinaigrette stopped me in my tracks. Regardless of how well or poorly he prepared it, I have two totally subjective issues with his dish. First off, each time I read its description I thought I was reading a preparation for lamb. Seriously, read it again and tell me it would not have been significantly more appealing if he has used lamb chops or lamb loin?
Rocco DiSpirito:
[Best opening blog line this week:] The road to New York City is not paved by incinerated broccolini, petrified salmon, or vulcanized lobster.
Casey’s comment about the butane burners was well founded; these are normally reserved for lost cause scenarios. They aren’t hot, the flame goes out constantly, and the butane cassette runs out of fuel in 20 minutes. Frankly, a Bic lighter would have been just as practical.
So we learn that the finale is headed to Aspen after NYC. Hmm, a challenge where the TCCs have to cook for cougars using twigs and a mirror?
Lee Anne Wong:
Denial is the first, second, and last stage for [Hung] apparently, and the camera doesn’t lie.
So the big tree and his testicle fell down in the Top Chef forest with a hard thump (did anyone hear a sound?)
Anthony Bourdain:
Most other carriers -- one American outfit in particular -- blithely carry on operating vomit comets -- contemptuously depositing their indifferently prepared droppings on passengers' trays knowing that the only reason people are eating their crap is to break up the stultifying boredom of the pressurized cabin and the inevitability of yet another Will Ferrell film on the main screen.
My fellow passenger Collichio and I gaped, unbelieving at the blackened, twig-like, half-dry, half-sludge Petri-scrapings in our side dishes. I believe I said something like, "This looks like something you'd find in Bob Marley's closet." I meant NOW -- like years and years after the great man's death. Not trusting our eyes, we even saved a portion, putting some in one of the "Glad Family of Bags" -- only reinforcing the impression of dried out ganja. But by judging time, when we had planned on offering the exhibit into evidence, it had degraded so badly as to be so prejudicial that it would outweigh any probative value.
If you've ever been on an ouzo bender and woken up the next day with your head in a bidet, burping up licorice? That was pretty much my in-flight meal on Air Sara.
...it felt like Brian was holding up a sign saying "All You Can Eat Jumbo Shrimp" and expecting us all to get insta-boners.
