We pick up where we left off last night, with the contestants filing out of the kitchen, with the comments focusing on bitching from the men. Jonathon talks about how it was embarrassing that they lost, and says again how he's never had a late order because of a side dish. Will, meanwhile, says he's glad they lost, because this should be "wakeup call numero uno" (wakeup call numero dos will be along shortly). And there's Brendan, still going on about how intimidated Paul is by him. I can't help but notice that Brendan's acting awfully tough with the shortest male contestant.
Because Ramsay wants to remind us of what a sick, sadistic bastard he can be, he's arranged a 5:35 a.m. wakeup call. And not just any wakeup call, a little kid with an electric guitar and amps turned up to eleven. The kid strums mightily while the nightvision camera shows us the disconcerted contestants waking up in no small amount of fear, and I imagine they were all in the midst of nightmares of being eaten alive by undercooked (or burned) scallops.
They stagger into the kitchen to find young Hendrix, with Monterray expressing a desire to take the guitar and smash it, while Tommy -- who, after all, has "Rock N' Roll" tattooed on the hairline that he better hope he has until the day he dies -- shrugs and says he probably would have done the same thing. Because he can't stop rockin', that's why.
The contestants make their way outside, where Ramsay's waiting for them, and Jonathon is popping a boner over the fact that the women are in their short shorts and whatnot, which gave him a little extra spring in his step. I imagine that the women similarly will be checking out the men, although they've probably noticed at this point Jonathon's obvious on-again off-again relationship with a toothbrush.
Ramsay asks several of them how they slept, and Carrie can't resist the urge to flirt by coquettishly saying she always has sweet dreams, and Ramsay stops her dead in her horny tracks by saying that after last night's service he figured it was nightmares for everybody.
So that's why it's an early start for everybody, and they're getting back to basics with meat temperatures. They're going to be grilling four cuts of meat to certain specifications, in teams of two (Jonathon and Brendan exchange a surreptitious fist pound), although Will has to go it alone due to the odd number of men.
"I'm giving you all twenty minutes, starting now," says Ramsay, and the partners hustle out to prepare a medium-rare New York striploin, medium ribeye, medium-well filet, and a well-done burger. Elise and Carrie bicker. "The bitch won't let me do shit," Carrie tells us. They haven't even been going five minutes and they're at each other's throats.
Meanwhile, Jonathon and Brendan have fallen in love and are wildly gesticulating (Jonathon is possibly on meth) about how they just need a beer to go with the barbecue, and Brendan shares with us his stereotypical nonsense that the men will kick ass in the competition because men have been cooking meat over flame since the caveman days. And also they don't ask for directions, amirite?
After the time runs out, Ramsay's ready to inspect. Amanda and Krupa are up first. Their meats are absolutely perfect; four points for the women. "I would have kissed Amanda on the mouth of we hadn't all not brushed our teeth," Krupa tells us. Jonathon's probably good to go.
Jonathon and Brendan are up . They fuck up the New York strip, but get the ribeye right, and the filet, but Ramsay refuses to cut up the burger due to the texture alone. "It's like one of those joke turds that you put on your granny's chair," he says. They have joke turds for that prank? No wonder my parents got so pissed at me that one time. Will's pretty unimpressed that those two ass-clowns call themselves professional chefs but can't cook meat. The score is four to two.
Now it's Elise and Carrie, who hopefully will be able to stop from grinding all up on Ramsay so he can judge their meat. New York strip is rare, not medium rare. Ribeye is medium rare, not medium. Filet is successfully medium well, but the burger is grey and dry. Carrie tells us that Elise cooked everything, while Elise tells us that Carrie should have helped more. "You should not be here if you can only temp one out of four pieces of meat," Natalie tells us. Chino and Adam Goldberg, I mean Tommy, get three out of four to tie things up.
Jamie and Natalie then get three out of four, and Paul and Monterray only get two out of four. The score is eight-seven, and now it's Jennifer, Gina and Elizabeth, all together on one team. If they get a perfect score, they clinch it.
New York strip is nicely medium rare. Ribeye is medium rare, not medium, and the filet is wrong too, but the burger is beautiful, so the women have a three-point lead. Will's last to go, and Brendan tells us it all comes down to whether he can get all four right. "And everybody was having problems with the burgers today," he says. That is not a thing that is true. What IS true is that Brendan and Jonathon got their burger wrong, and since he doesn't want to feel like he disgraced thousands of years of hack-comedian material going back to the caveman days, he pretends everyone had problems.
Will's striploin: perfect medium rare. Ribeye: perfect medium. The filet: medium-well. Tie game. So it's down to the burger. "Bye-bye, girls," Will tells us, then gets all high-pitched and wavy and says it again. Ramsay slices open the burger and ... really? We're going to commercial on this? (Sigh) Fine. Jesus, I forgot how hungry this show makes me.
Anyway, when we get back, Ramsay checks the burger, and declares it perfect, and the men start hugging "like fucking girls in band camp" according to Jonathon, while Natalie lays the blame for the defeat at the feet of Elise and Carrie, since they only got one piece of meat right.
For their reward, the men are being sent by private jet to Palm Springs for some R&R, an they're leaving in about forty minutes. Paul takes it all in stride. "I'm a big deal, and big deals get private planes," he says. Sure, so long as there's no "You must be this tall to ride this plane" sign out on the tarmac.
So Ramsay then talks to the women about how they had it in their grasp, and he explicitly blames Elise and Carrie for the loss. Naturally, he wants his grills back in sparkling condition. "I've got a plane to catch. Happy cleaning," he says. Krupa starts sniping at Elise, who appears to believe that she gets along with everybody. Natalie tells us, though, that her bad attitude is bringing everybody down and she should just shut up and cook. Or clean, in this case. Elise natters on about how even just looking at Carrie makes her want to punch her, or something.
Meanwhile, the men are jetting off to Palm Springs, with Will doing his level best not to chunder all over the inside of the plane. Ramsay marvels that he can get meat temperatures right but can't fly, as if those are in any way related. They take the tram up to the top of a mountain to have lunch and toast the women back at HK.
The grills are apparently done, because they're sitting around waiting for their lunch, and Chef Andi wheels out a cart that contains the cooked meat from the morning's challenge ... and a blender. Back a few moments ago, when I said this show makes me hungry? Yeah, that's going away right now. Andi blends up the meat so the women can drink their lunch and not let the meat go to waste. Plus, the sludgy chunky mess that is being poured into glasses for the women to drink out of could possibly convert many Hell's Kitchen viewers to vegetarianism instantly, so there's that. "The texture was ungodly. It was chunky, there was sinew, and fat. Oh my god," says Gina.
I guess the women are all required to drink this, instead of passing on lunch? Most of them hold their noses while doing it, while Elise snottily notes that Carrie doesn't seem to be having too much trouble. Carrie does seem to be handling it rather well. Elise wants us to know that this is likely due to the sheer numbers of men she believes Carrie has fellated. Fortunately, it's all done with innuendo, and no f-bombs that need to be bleeped!
Also fortunately, there are garbage bags around for the women to spit up into, and what a truly compelling evening of television we have going on right now, with women vomiting meat milkshakes into giant garbage bins.
Meanwhile, Ramsay's getting to know his BFFs, the men's team. He asks what Monterray's ambition is, and Monterray says he's doing this for his wife and six kids. SIX kids? Damn. Monterray could be back with the women, slurping down the beef slushies, and this would STILL be considered a vacation for him. Will talks about the way his father said every generation has to step up the family name, and he takes that very seriously. Will tells us that the time spent with Ramsay took him from bad-ass kitchen psychopath to normal human being. Yeah, well, don't get too comfortable, Will.
Brendan douchily talks about how accomplished his family is, what with the lawyers and the doctors and the Oscar winners and Nobel laureates, and how cooking is his thing, and we get a little time-lapse montage intercut with shots of all of the other men shaking their heads to make it look like Brendan has been bragging for about three hours. Although maybe he was, because in a talking head, Will does his impression of Brendan thusly: "'Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.' Shut up, dude."
Meanwhile, back at Hell's Kitchen, the women have all died of pulmonary embolisms, so, it looks like tonight's service will be a slam-dunk for the men -- no, wait, there they are. They're accepting delivery of a dead cow that they have to haul out from the back of the truck. "That cow was fucking heavy," says Elizabeth, which -- I mean, there's a reason a common insult for fat people is "cow," genius.
Jennifer has a cow's leg on her shoulder as they tote the thing into the kitchen, and she calls the whole thing a clusterfuck. But they're far from done; they still have to cut the carcass up. This involves women on tables and intensive sawing.
Mercifully, the time-lapse takes us right up until 8:22 p.m., and the women are in their colors and prepping for tomorrow night's service. They seem to have done some bonding of their own, and have also been studying their asses off, according to Krupa. As they peel potatoes and prep, they quiz each other on the menu. Even Elise seems to have dialed back the attitude, because she doesn't want to lose another challenge. "I don't feel like this will give us a disadvantage, because while the men are off drinking, they're not really thinking about game-time tomorrow," Elise tells us, while Elizabeth and her teammates tell each other that the men are being set up for failure.
So we get shots of the men getting late-night beers, and shots of the women, pajama-clad and sleepy, studying and quizzing each other.
Well, not Carrie. She's decided enough punishment is enough, and since Ramsay isn't around, she's going to flirt with Brendan. She tells him that she's broken many hearts, and he says "I have no doubt," and the two of them are oblivious to the stinkeye being sent in their direction by the other women. "I am not a prude, but seriously, what the fuck is up?" Jennifer asks us. Elizabeth says she doesn't think Carrie's priorities are in order.
Sure enough, Carrie gives Brendan a hug and heads off to bed, but then calls Brendan into the hallway -- everyone gives him the hairy eyeball as he faux-nonchalantly strolls over to the sound of the booty call -- where she coyly tells him she's not getting any exercise. "Well, I'll figure out a way for you to burn calories," he tells her, and they head off into her room. "What a stanka-dank skank!" Elise tells us, laughing.
So the morning, the men are up early to prep, displaying an exuberant overconfidence, after their bonding experience in Palm Springs. What, did they kill someone up there and swear never to tell anyone? "The wolfpack is definitely fuckin' howling tonight, man," Jonathan tells us, and then he helpfully shows what "howlin'" means.
Meanwhile, the women have stopped squabbling, and Elise seems to have taken charge. They're breaking up into groups to master the menu, and familiarizing themselves with the equipment at each station. With fingernails that shine like justice and voices that are dark like tinted glass. They're fast and thorough, and sharp as a tack! They're touring the facilities and picking up slack!
Ramsay tells James to open the restaurant. It's 6:13 p.m. and Ramsay has decided to ease pressure on the kitchen by choosing two items to serve tableside. Will and Carrie will be doling out Caesar salad while Krupa and Monterray will be carving prime rib.
So the orders start coming in, and Jennifer manages to screw up the brisket salad. Not a good start. But it's too early for the griping to set in, and Gina encourages her to shake it off. Over in the blue kitchen, the appetizer station is humming along -- well, except for Chino, who's struggling to produce risotto, and isn't even answering Ramsay or his teammates when they ask him how long it's going to be. "Chino reminds me of a chipmunk on meth," Brendan tells us, which I think may be the tagline for this fall's new Alvin and the Chipmunks movie. His first risotto is overcooked. His second one is also burned. "Chino, what the fuck is going on?" Unfortunately, it's going to take eight more minutes for the risotto. "If you burn me that risotto, one more time -- look at me -- I'll drag you out of here," Ramsay promises him
The red team's kitchen is sending out the appetizers tickety-boo, except for Carrie, who keeps going to the wrong table, and seems annoyed with Ramsay for expecting her to be things like "accurate" or "just barely adequate" or even "not a complete moron." "Chef Ramsay was on me like white on rice!" Carrie complains, and she may not even want to sleep with him anymore. The table she's currently sweating over a Caesar salad for doesn't seem super impressed, so Krupa shows up to bail her out.
And Chino thankfully gets the risotto right, and the appetizers now seem to be going swimmingly for the blues, and Brendan on the fish station ready to move to entrees, even though his team -- and Ramsay himself -- isn't ready for it. He's cooked the bass, but the other meat and the garnish aren't ready. "You've got to work as a team! Please!" says Ramsay.
Krupa's help on the Caesar salads enables the women to catch up to the men on entrees, and the men now have another problem. Brendan serves up the sea bass requested in the first ticket, and Ramsay wants to know if it's the same sea bass he prepared early. Brendan says it isn't; he says he threw out the first one, and Ramsay is all "show me or it didn't happen" so Brendan goes digging in the trash for it -- but can't come up with it. Ramsay is on the verge of turning into Samuel L. Jackson's Jules from Pulp Fiction if he finds out Brendan's lying to him, and he promises to tear the kitchen apart.
We go to commercials first. Hey, I see Zooey Deschanel is in a new show playing a quirky woman! Finally!
Anyway, we come back, and Brendan folds under questioning and admits to not putting down a fresh bass. Ramsay tosses the tainted bass in question, and the blue team stands around like they're not sure what to do in the event of the first homicide in Hell's Kitchen history. Ramsay's not mad, Brendan. He's just disappointed. And also mad. Paul decides to cut the awkwardness by at least starting a new sea bass and ordering everybody back to work on the rest of the order. "Brendan's an idiot for lying to Chef Ramsay," Chino tells us. There were probably innumerable ways for Chino to have ended that sentence.
Ramsay, who is remaining admirably calm, is all "how dare you" at Brendan for his whole charade of looking for the sea bass that he knew wasn't in the garbage can. "You do that to me one more time, trust me: fuck the elimination, I'll send you out there and then," Ramsay tells Brendan, who says it won't happen again. Brendan, surprisingly contrite, tells us Ramsay isn't stupid, and he called Brendan out for blowing smoke up his ass.
Things are starting to unravel for the red team, though, because Elise's increasingly abrasive bossiness has started to wear on the rest of the women. "Elise has an awfully big mouth," Natalie tells us, adding that Elise is yelling, not leading. So Natalie visibly enjoys it when Ramsay gives Elise shit for interrupting him and talking over him and pointing at him, telling her he's not going to tolerate her "big fat mouth," and he'll kick her out. "Finally someone can get Elise to shut up!" Jennifer tells us.
In the blue kitchen, the first entrée still isn't out, so Paul makes the mistake of acting like an asshole, which he confuses for taking charge, and Will and Tommy both snap at him for it. But Tommy's overcooked duck doesn't pass muster, and he sends it back, leading to a little bit of wolfpack griping.
The women are halfway through their tickets, with Elise finished with her Ramsay-inspired code of silence. Truth is, she doesn't appear that bad; someone does have to lead the team, and no one else seems to be willing to take it up. She does come across as a little condescending, but they are winning. "We are definitely rockin' it out," admits Krupa. At least they were, until she drops a prime rib on the floor. A much chagrined Ramsay gets Monterray to get another one on the go for butterfingers there. "Do not drop it!" he orders her.
And it's the third try for the men's first entrée, and -- oh, there's Ramsay starting off with, "Oh, come on" as he inspects the sea bass. Undercooked. "Come ON, bro!" yells an increasingly agitated Will. "Brendan, you suck! You SUCK!" Will tells us. Don't tell us! Tell him!
Ramsay tells the blue team to stop, and then lists all the ways he which they have displeased him tonight -- the risotto, the duck, the sea bass -- and he orders all of them upstairs. "Made us look like a bunch of sissy-ass bitches, man!" laments Jonathon. Well, one could make the argument that you made yourselves look like ... well, like a bunch of sissy-ass bitches, to use your parlance.
Ramsay calls over four women to finish the job of the men, which Paul amusingly calls "the most infuriating, slap in the face, literally [sic] whipping your dick out and slapping it across my face feeling that I have ever had in my life."
So upstairs, the men smoke angrily and Will talks about how he has never been thrown out of a kitchen, and Paul is apoplectic. I think his head might literally explode. Yes, I know what the word means. THIS IS WHAT I'M SAYING. He's yelling at everybody who isn't him for not being able to cook. "We're all supposed to be professional chefs, right? So what the fuck?" yells Will at the group, and he kicks something, and he tells us that he did not come here to be made a fool of. No one does, dude. But that happens to many contestants.
After the commercial break, "the finger-pointing has begun," as the narrator tells us. Will is rapidly losing points with me due to part of his anger being due to losing to women. I wish chauvinists would pick one: either women can't cook, or it's their job to cook. Just pick one prejudice and stick with it!
Meanwhile, the women are sending out their last table, and really enjoying the fact that they got called in for mop-up duty on the men. Not for the first time, I notice that Carrie has an Anna Torv (from Fringe) thing going on. The women finish up, and Ramsay praises the job they did.
Upstairs, Will is still shouting at everybody, and Chino tells us that the testosterone needs to lay off, because the yelling is only rubbing things in to the wounds of the guys who are already fucking up. He's not wrong. The guys head downstairs to face the music (tipping over a chair and not bothering to pick it up).
Ramsay calls it a Tale of Two Kitchens, and cavalcade of criticism starts, with the men nominating Brendan and Chino for elimination. Chino takes exception to Jonathon's nomination, since all Jonathon does is yell when Ramsay's around and then clam up the rest of the time. Jonathon tells him to go fuck himself, but Chino (correctly) points out that the women are winning because they've decided to suck it up and work together despite not all liking each other. Ramsay rubs his eyes while the bickering continues, and then just calls up Chino and Brendan to the front.
Brendan tells Ramsay that he's got heart and character, and wants BLT Steak, and he apologizes for lying. Chino admits that the experience has been humbling for him. He's here to learn, and maybe he's not as good as he thought he was, but he'll always get better. "Are you better than Brendan?" Ramsay asks him, and Chino can't say yes absolutely fast enough.
Not super surprisingly, Ramsay boots Brendan. "Don't hate the player, hate the game," says Brendan, after having given us ample reason to love the game and hate the player. He says he's going to lead another kitchen to greatness, and then he gives a shout-out to Carrie, saying he's her biggest fan. "Call me, all right?"
So Ramsay tells Chino to "get better, quickly," and then breaks the news to the women that since the men can't get their shit together, in the morning he's going to need a volunteer from the women to go to the men's team. Neither team is very enthused at this, and Monterray pipes up to tell Ramsay that he'd rather roll with the six he's got, and the other men voice their support. "Thank you for your thoughts. Let me tell you: you're striving for a reputation. I've got one, and you are not going to fucking ruin it," responds Ramsay.
Monterray's pissed about it, and Natalie thinks it's pretty ridiculous that the men can't put their dicks away for five minutes to realize they need help. "I am zen, and you can't penetrate me," says Chino, somewhat confusingly. He doesn't care what anybody thinks, or something.
"The only thing bigger than Brendan's ego are the lies that he tells, and I can't have that, in Hell's Kitchen," says Ramsay, who walks away, his eternal quest for culinary truth ready to rest up for the night.
Daniel is a writer in Newfoundland with a wife and a daughter. He's still wondering when Daredevil's going to show up. Follow him on Twitter (@DanMacEachern) or email him at danieljdaniel@gmail.com.