Top Chef Recap: Emeril Lagasse Thinks Of Hot Moist Nice Things When Padma Lakshmi Says 'Swamp'
And we begin. But what’s this? The chefs are competing for $125,000 provided by Healthy Choice? How will I know what’s new in the world of the Glad family of storage products? Where will I get eight million loving beauty shots of things to put my food in? I don’t think I am ready for this kind of change.
OK, it is time to meet some of the people, but not all of the people, because of how there are 472 people, and we can’t possibly be made to care yet.
Here is Sara, a rockabilly girl who works for Wolfgang Puck. Sara, this is Top Chef, not Project Runway. Bring it up by about 30 years please. Maybe some Dynasty-style shoulderpads and many more tattoos?
Oh, hello Jason Cichonski from Philly! You are allergic to shirts. I am sorry for your tribulations. It must be very painful.
Nobody pays any attention to the next two chefs.
Oh, look, here is a Perthian Playboy model! (She is not really a Playboy model, that was sexist, I am ashamed.)
Here’s a bitchen Chinese girl, Shirley, who works for Thomas Keller. This is a real crop here. None of that terrible Hosea nonsense, Jesus, that was the worst. Remember, he won with, like, a plate of salmon?
Justin, from La Petite Grocery, is a big sexy bear. We will see more of him, yes producers?
Somebody works at Slurping Turtle, which is not a good name for a restaurant.
NOW IT IS TIME TO COOK.
Oooh, creepy crawly swimmy things! For you to EAT!
Oh, that is nice, this contestant bitching about the lack of fish sauce (because of how he only cooks Asian food) explains that he loves everything Asian including all Asian people, all of whom he dates, we guess, interchangeably. But: TWISTO-CHANGEO! He only objectifies Asian men instead of Asian women! So that is … fuck it, no it’s not.
OK, cooking. Is it just us, or is this weird high-def camerawork really swoopy and uneven and kinda dizzy-making? TELL ME IT IS NOT JUST US.
Wait, who is this lady whose dad won independence? Nina? What the fuck is SALUTIA???? Is it next to Freedonia?
Carrie is a gorgeous freshfaced cutie from Seattle. She embodies Seattle, she is the Spirit of Seattle, all healthy and smiley. We assume based on this she will be horribly passive-aggressive, and let’s just have a little for instance here, maybe, FOR EXAMPLE, if she were a hotel desk clerk and you were staying there and someone dosed you with you a Roofie and you said “I am very ill, I need to go to the hospital,” she would just leave you lying on the lobby couch and NOT CALL AN AMBULANCE OR EVEN A TAXI FOR YOU, because you offended her somehow, you guess, she never explained it exactly because PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE. Wait, what were we talking about? No idea.
Don’t care about your Thai martial arts or whatever, Ramon. But I am worried about the effects of so much testosterone on your dish.
This Kraft Recipe Makers commercial, with Giant Head St. Carla Hall on a tiny shriveled body, is not making me want to eat your Semi-Home-Made Whatever. It is making me feel icky and sad, which are not emotions I like to associate with my dinner. Instead, I like my dinner to be scared and maybe a little claustrophobic. Can we get on that, Kraft Recipe Makers?
Here’s Emeril Lagasse, passing out King Cake. He seems like a buffoon, right? With the “bam” and the nonsense? I had the meal of my life at his place in New Orleans. I ate crawfish for which five sticks of butter had laid down and died.
And here in the swamp they are having to build stoves out of bent rods. This is reminiscent of the terrible, horrible, atrocious Vancouver finale, where the male contestant and his brute strength were able to break the proteins out of the ice blocks, because TERRIBLE IDEA PRODUCERS. At least that guy helped his opponents break theirs out too, because he wasn’t a dick and IT WAS TOP CHEF NOT TOP ICEBLOCK-THROWER.
“I’ve never been to a swamp,” Padma says. “Much less a soiree in the swamp.” Emeril repeats it, rolling her magical words around in his mouth. He is thinking of hot, moist, swampy things. He is thinking of Padma. She could have said “pig fuck doo rag mumble pie” and he would have been equally reverent and awed and be-bonered. She is Padma. She could have me and you and your momma too.
OK, then there are all the plates, none of which looked that amazing really? Maybe it is that stupid high-def? Maybe it is the terrible camera work? Or maybe “turtle meatballs” don’t lend themselves to, like, glue in place of milk and all those other loving food photography things? Don’t know!
Why are they letting the contestants watch the judges’ deliberations? WHOSE IDEA WAS THAT? (Also, have they done that before, on one of the seasons I missed due to my devastating heroin addiction/not caring?)
Our top contenders are Nina (Salusia), Carrie (Seattle, presumably strung out on whatever the hot new dope is), and Sara, who should really think about updating her look to ’70s Newton-John. So hot right now!
Nina wins! For the honor of Salusia! (Which totally does not exist.) (But the Bravo website informs me that St. Lucia does.) (Whatever.) (Boring.)
Ramon is going to lose now, because nobody wanted to see his tits so they gave him no beads. Also: he is probably dead from testosterone poisoning.
OR IS HE? Because some other guy who might lose put ICE in his DASHI, and Colicchio is making the kind of face usually only used by the judges on Chopped when someone serves them any food at all. (Chopped judges, every time: “I am OFFENDED by this dish of RICE.”)
Oh yeah, no, it was totally Ramon. That dude sucked. Bye dude.