By Chuck
Chicago. Airport. Luggage. Toyotas. The new crop of cheftestants arrives in one of America's culinary capitals and is whisked off to Pizzeria Uno. There must have been a fire alarm or something, since the staff has vanished, leaving behind a perfectly arranged gallery of smoldering deep dish pizzas. As the cheftestants dig in and do the perfunctory introduction thing, it surfaces that Jennifer and Zoi (and that's pronounced Zo-E, as opposed to Zwah or Zo-I, just to clear things up) are a lesbian couple from San Francisco. Also, Jennifer and Richard have the same haircut, so maybe they're a lesbian couple from San Francisco as well.
Padma and Tom saunter in with news of the first Quickfire. Deep-dish pizza, of course. Each cheftestant must create their own signature pizza using ingredients from the Top Chef kitchen (damn, that is a nice kitchen, with Whole Foods all up in there) or from their own stash (up to $200 of items they "cannot live without"), and part of a big slab of dough that looks disconcertingly like post-lipo detritus. Ninety minutes later, the madness subsides, and the cheftestants load the results into pizza delivery bags. Which they deliver to the home of guest judge Rocco di Spirito, who looks nicely touched up. He and Padma chow down and give props to Richard (peach tallegio pizza with a sweet tea reduction) and Mark (chicken, zucchini, and Marmite molasses -- yuck, but Rocco dug it) in the group of the eight best, while Stephanie (melon-tomato sauce, olives, arugula, and too-gamey prosciutto) and Nikki (a dry brick of mushrooms and cheese) get singled out in the worst.
Sullen Nimma, who's not here to have fun, sits out a night where everyone else gets to know one another better (at Rocco's house, which actually turns out to be their house for the season). The cheftestants then return to the kitchen for Elimination, in which a cheftestant from the winning group chooses a cheftestant from the losers. The two will then face off in a head-to-head challenge in which they will put their spin on a dish selected by the cheftestant from the loser group from a list of traditional items -- like shrimp scampi, chicken piccata, or soufflé.
Richard, Nikki, Stephanie and Antonia are chosen as the four best, while Ryan, Mark, Nimma and Erik get called as the worst. Colicchio seems genuinely impressed by the quality of all four of the best dishes, and the judges (including guest judge Anthony Bourdain) ultimately choose Stephanie as the winner for a gorgeous-looking duck a l'orange that boasts a memorable array of tastes. But what of the losers? Ryan's piccata wasn't piccata (as he clearly has no idea what piccata is), Mark's deconstructed duck a l'orange was a mess, and Erik put tortilla chips on top of an already mediocre soufflé. Tortilla chips. On a soufflé. But it's Nimma that gets the boot, for her failed cauliflower flan and egregiously salted shrimp scampi.
As usual, I'm looking forward to fewer cheftestants; it's always hard to focus at the beginning with so many people and dishes milling about. I'm a bit surprised they cut Nimma, though. Her Debbie Downer monologues make her just the type of annoying bore who could drive anyone crazy and create drama down the road. Other than Nimma, only Andrew, who seems wound up and ready for a fight, stands out (due in large part to screen time), but with a real-life couple, a guy named Spike (nee Evangelos) Mendehlson, and Richard the requisite molecular gastronomist, I hope we're in for a feast.
Well, it's that time again, and there's change afoot at Top Chef -- new city, new cheftestants, new recapper. They've moved the whole shebang to Chicago, unearthed a new crop of hungry chefs, and hauled me out of the TWoP graveyard. So, hey there -- it's nice to be back. Thanks to Keckler for a great run; I've got some big shoes to fill, but I also have enormous feet. And while I enjoy my cocktails, I won't bore you by reprinting a dry martini recipe every week, since that's about the extent of my homemade repertoire.
As much as things change, they also stay the same -- Padma, ensconced in a cobalt Leger-y looking bandage-y thing, intones in her trademark, simultaneously wooden and come-hither way, that things are "now tastier than ever." A new crop of sixteen chefs will compete in 24 challenges to win the now-standard Food & Wine spread, the showcase at the Food & Wine Expo in Aspen, the Evian-fueled dream vacation in the French Alps, and $100,000 courtesy, again, of Glad (too bad it's not $100,000 worth of Glad products, which would both be funny and suck), and, of course, the bragging rights that come with the ultimate prize, the title of Top Chef.
Padma's back -- obviously -- along with kitchen daddy Tom Colicchio and regular judges Ted Allen and Gail Simmons (who are not regular enough to be there tonight). With that, the credits roll, and we're off. To the airport, as the cheftestants arrive in Chicago (complete with plenty of establishing photos, which make Chicago look lovely and, yes, kind of windy -- I've never been, which is a sad situation I hope to rectify in the near future).
Ryan Scott (San Francisco, 27, Executive Chef, Myth Café) has been in restaurant kitchen since the age of eleven -- his parents "signed the waiver" and he joined the line with his dad, who "fired two people after the first two or three weeks because I outcooked them at eleven." Oh, were you eleven, because I wasn't sure you mentioned that? Maybe your dad just knew where to get plenty of free labor. We'll see. ["Seriously, that story doesn't so much make Ryan look cool as it makes his dad look like a total a-hole." -- Joe R]
Nimma Osman (Atlanta, 26, Line Cook, Repast Restaurant) has a different sort of daddy issue -- she is an observant Muslim woman, and her parents feel she should live at home until she marries, but she wants to be free to do her thing. She worried her father would not support her decision to participate in the show, but she's arrived in Chicago with his blessing.
comes Zoi Antonitsas (San Francisco, 30, Chef/Consultant) -- that's Zo-E to you and me. According to her audition tape, Zoi enjoys making spicy pig's head soup and, according to her first talk-to-the-camera bit, she plans to bring a "softer style to the competition." I'm not sure how those two details work together, but there you go. Pig's heads must be pretty soft, come to think of it. I really cannot stand the way she spells her name, or pronounces it, or whatever, but I will gracefully assume that's not her doing and will try not to let it cloud my judgment. Oh, never mind, she also thinks food is "about experience, about community," which she believes is unique. I do not.
Mark Simmons (New Zealand, 29, Sous Chef, Public) sports a mop of curly hair, an accent, and that happy-go-lucky demeanor so typical of our English-speaking Southern-hemisphere brethren. Well-traveled, he arrived in New York with "$200 and a backpack" and is living the American Dream -- well, since he's now on TV, he totally is.
These and other as-yet unfamiliar folks are dumped at an abandoned Pizzeria Uno by the trusty Toyotas (seriously, there appears to be no one else in the place -- I hope somebody thought to go for the cash register, which may well already be empty). Those who fled did leave behind a lovely, still-steaming smorgasbord of deep dish pizzas, and, in a moment that's clearly not at all staged, the newbies dig in and make small talk.
This year's recipient of the coveted sponsorship from the Fauxhawk Institute is Richard Blais (Atlanta, 35, Chef/Consultant, Trail-Blais), who pronounces all the letters in his last name, so reread the name of his business and see if it doesn't make you gag, just a little. He's pumped to be in Chicago because it offers the best of both worlds -- phenomenal street food and lots of cutting-edge stuff, which is clearly his thing. Good Christ, is that a beer he's pouring? More like a vat -- yes, please. Anyway, Richard espouses better eating through chemistry and loves ingredients like liquid nitrogen. It's a kind of cooking, says Richard, that "a lot of people refer to as 'molecular gastronomy'" (complete with finger quotes). What do you call it, Richard? ["I like to think the finger-quoting is his attempt to distance himself from the Marcels of the world. And who can blame him, really?" -- Joe R]
Jennifer Biesty (San Francisco, 35, Coco500), first runner-up in the Fauxhawk-off, also expresses pleasure at being in Chicago and standing in the hallowed halls of Pizzeria Uno, which, great as the place may be, just sounds funny since all I know of Pizzeria Uno are the far-flung outposts that put it on par with Round Table. Erik Hopfinger (San Francisco, 38, Circa) looks like he could kill easily with his thumb but probably wouldn't, says he has high standards, and curses like a sailor.
Red-bearded Andrew D'Ambrosi (New York, 30, Sous Chef, Le Cirque) one-ups Erik on the fuck-o-meter, as in "when I make food, it's like fuckin' part of me, it's like molten fuckin' lava pouring out for you," as his audition tape shows him finishing a cool-looking but slightly gimmicky tattooed carpaccio. Ah, the low-key one.
Stephanie Izard (Chicago, 31, Chef/Restaurateur) thinks her attitude in the kitchen is a strength -- "it's very positive and fun -- the thing is, if the chef's in a good mood and is treating everybody with respect, then everybody in the kitchen's going to have a good mood and is gonna produce things better." That does go against the dominant theory that instilling fear and shame in employees gets the best results. Stephanie's weakness? She gets nervous. Plus, she's got a terrible fake wave and an unfortunate habit of wearing a Yoda doll on her back.
While it's too early to judge the group, beyond the fact that they all seem capable of forced civility, Richard's sussed out his rival de coiffure. Before he can deactivate her mousse, however, Zoi and Jennifer have an announcement to make. "We know each other in San Francisco, and we're a couple." Yes, proving its ongoing commitment to their gays, Bravo's brought real-life lesbian love to Top Chef. Oh, surprise, titter (sorry), "wow," cut to the Muslim girl looking stiff. Zoi and Jennifer have been together for three-and-a-half years and are a bit shocked to find themselves in this situation but pleased that the word is "out." And it is, with an obligatory round of "out" jokes, after which Spike (Evangelos) Mendehlson (New York, 27, Sous Chef, Mai House) sums it up nicely when he says, "No big deal, they can go home together." Funnily enough, the name Spike, in my experience, generally refers to one thing -- lesbians from San Francisco. From what I can tell, Spike is not a lesbian, but he is pretty cute.
Clearly aware that others might ascribe an advantage to a couple, Zoi points out that the emotional strain could be a huge problem. Me, I don't care one way or the other -- but hopefully some solid drama will spring from this unexpected new twist.
As if on cue, Padma and Colicchio show up, and after Colicchio assures the cheftestants that "this will be one of the toughest experiences of your career," it's time for the first Quickfire, a challenge with a Chicago twist. Finally -- get to cooking, people!
The gang descends on the new Top Chef kitchen, and she is a beauty, piled high and pimped out with everything a chef, or I, could want. The foxiest part of the whole set-up, though, is the brown junior-high lockers that will be given to each cheftestant, for equipment and stash stashing (they were allowed to bring up to $200 of items they "cannot live without"). Looks like Whole Foods will be enjoying major product placement this season.
The Quickfire is, of course, deep dish pizza -- each cheftestant must create their own signature pizza using ingredients from the Top Chef kitchen or from their own collection, and part of a big slab of dough that, in its current form, looks like decidedly non-tasty leftovers from a neighborhood lipo clinic. They have 90 minutes to get everything ready for delivery to this round's guest judge.
Everyone scatters -- animated Andrew reveals that he likes "busting my ass and running around a lot," and nervous Stephanie cuts herself while chopping onions. Dale Talde (New York, 29, Sous Chef, Buddakan) explains that he tries to get his distinct point of view across in everything he does, which in this case translates to a pizza with sausage, pickled kohlrabi, scallions and sriracha sauce. Valerie Bolon (Chicago, 32, Personal Chef/Instructor) comes from a fine dining background, which doesn't include pizza, so she dives in with both feet with a meat and potatoes pizza. Certainly sounds like traditional Midwestern fare.
Manuel Trevino (New York, 33, Executive Chef, Dos Caminos) goes classic Italian with sopressata and rapini a la Sicliana. Nikki Cascone (New York, 35, Chef/Partner, 24 Prince) readily admits her New York background makes her a stranger to deep dish, and proceeds to make a white pie with mushrooms, truffle oil, and what is clearly about three times more dough than she needs. Mark decides to whip out one of his secret ingredients -- Marmite, a yeast extract, the unofficial national food of Australia and New Zealand and an, uh, acquired taste. "In the right hands, it can move mountains," says he -- good for him for going out on a limb in the first Quickfire, but that just sounds vomitous.
Antonia Lofaso (Los Angeles, 31, Executive Chef, Foxtail) -- oh come on, are we done with the intros yet??? -- draws on her Italian background for a pizza with burrata cheese, prosciutto, arugula and heirloom tomatoes. Richard strides right into less charted waters with his peach taleggio pizza with sweet tea sauce -- an admittedly witty take on deep dish combined with southern ingredients, but Richard can't quite figure out if said ingredients (plus what looks like some sausage) represent "my southern roots, or where I live now." Huh?
Not to be outdone by Antonia and Richard, Spike also pulls from his roots -- Greek -- for a pizza with onions, feta, olives, and sausage. Lisa Fernandes (27, Sous Chef, possibly lives in New York and works at a restaurant of the same name, according to the show's on-screen identification protocol) strives to deliver "orgasmic" dishes -- which I wholeheartedly support, but I am not convinced that an Asian BBQ duck pizza is going to fit the bill.
Well, bleepity-bleep-bleep, Andrew doesn't have a deep dish pizza pan because Richard thought he was entitled to two, which makes sense from a control-freak perspective, but I'm sure was dead obviously not the case here, so Richard's shady. Filing this incident away for future use, Andrew settles for looking "like a hack" and a cast iron skillet. As the clock ticks, the pizzas start coming out of the oven. Dale and I notice that several of them "look horrible" -- with gross miscalculations on dough, consistency, filling, etc.. Several are falling apart, and Nikki's looks like a slightly deflated medicine ball.
The cheftestants load their pizzas into delivery pouches and themselves into the fleet, and the fleet delivers the deliverers to the home of the mystery guest judge. Who turns out to be Rocco DiSpirito, looking trim, tan, and tight in black. I don't think he lives in Chicago. What could be up with that? Nice pad, though -- Padma's just stashed the bong under the pool table and is pretending to be engaged in a game.
Random cheftestants 'ooh' and 'aah' over the special tingle of being in Rocco's presence, as he instructs them to congregate in the kitchen and prepare to serve him and Padma, one delectable slice at a time. Nerves. Richard's first, and explains it's "a New Yorker who lives in Atlanta's interpretation of Chicago deep dish pizzas." That answers that, the sausage is fennel, and the pizza looks quite good. Rocco smells "something funky" in Stephanie's dish, thinks there's a lot going on with Zoi's (you have no idea, dude), and comments on Dale's home-pickled kohlrabi.
Ryan's escarole, ricotta salata, and butternut squash creation lulls a "very nice" from Padma. Both judges try not to giggle when Nikki's brick shows up. Andrew's smoked marinara, prosciutto, onion, and cheese pie arrives on a plate. Jennifer's "harvest" pizza with grapes, fontina, and rosemary sounds delicious -- I'm finding myself much more interested by the fruity ones, both made by fauxhawkers. Hmmm. Her crust wins compliments, as Erik arrives bearing mushrooms, onions, peppers, and sausage. Looks good, but traditional and a bit boring. Ditto Spike's Greek.
Nimma's chosen assorted mushrooms, onions, and stracchino cheese, but not salt, which will be seen as ironic foreshadowing by the scholars of tomorrow. Mark's Marmite experiment -- which also includes chicken and zucchini -- provides the Quickfire's final dish. Rocco and Padma join the kitchen klatch and, after he delivers a dialed-in pep talk, Rocco separates the group in half by calling eight names: Lisa, Nimma, Valerie, Manuel, Andrew, Stephanie, Nikki, and Zoi. They represent his least favorites, so now you know what the other group represents as well, and you can figure out who's in it, if you care.
Of the losers, Stephanie gets called out because her cooked prosciutto took on an unpleasant, gamey flavor, while Nikki's was, to no one's surprise, too dry. And that's being polite, if one can judge based on sight, which I do. Richard gets props for, in Rocco's words, "confounding me and then proving me wrong," which I bet might happen quite often. When it comes to Marmite, Rocco "can't think of a more foul flavor," but in Mark's hands it "turned out to be very delicious." Make it work, people!
The results will play into the first Elimination, which Padma reveals will occur tomorrow, after they get settled. Right there. In that house. Which no one saw coming, which is maybe why no one really seems to care. Andrew says some stuff, though, and waves his hands. Settling in involves poking around the (previously filmed) common areas of the house, which look quite nice and spacious, and wedging themselves into the bunk-bedded bedrooms, which look like brightly-colored prison cells. The deck seems pretty awesome, and everyone gathers for beer, champagne and getting-to-know-you chit chat.
Of his fellow competitors, Andrew says to the camera, "I'm not dissing them, but I can surprise people with dishes they haven't seen before or even thought about before, and they're gonna find out really soon what's up." I wonder what he's saying out on the deck, because Team Fauxhawk is looking at him like he just took a crap in their flowerbed and they don't quite know what kind of crazy that makes him. No apparent pan-theft discussion, but this scene is cut to make Andrew look a bit twitchy, so it's only a matter of time.
Alone in her room, Nimma's having none of the fun, and let's us know that she's this season's "here to work" martyr. She "hurts" because she lost the pizza contest -- which she didn't even technically "lose" since she wasn't one of the two people called out on national television for making a shitty pie, but she's clearly had a seat on this particular train long before she got to Chicago. Dale, closer to the action but still aloof, positions himself as this year's "here to work" egomaniac -- simple reduction: Dale is Hung.
The morning, a be-cowled Padma explains the Elimination: each cheftestant from last night's winning group picks a numbered knife; in numerical order, each then selects one of the cheftestants from the losing group. This duo will cook against each other in a head-to-head challenge, trying to wow the judges with their own take on a classic recipe, selected by the duo's loser cheftestant from a list on a large blackboard. Each round will have a winner and a loser, and the eight losers will be up for elimination. Mark's bummed he doesn't get to choose his recipe, since he's not even sure what some of the dishes are, and Erik, who drew knife eight, knows he's going to be shafted with soufflé.
The teams (Quickfire winner/loser) and their recipes:
Richard/Andrew: crab cakes (interesting -- Andrew's ready to battle)
Mark/Stephanie: duck a la orange [sic]
Jennifer/Nikki: lasagna
Antonia/Nimma: shrimp scampi
Spike/Lisa: eggs Benedict
Dale Manuel: steak au poivre
Ryan/Valerie: chicken piccata
Erik/Zoi: souffle (Erik was right, and Zoi's bummed too -- sucks for y'all)
Shopping spree at Whole Foods! Far as these ears can tell, Padma never mentioned a budget, which is dandy since at Whole Foods a lot buys a little (but what a lovely little it is). People run, point, demand. Dale, dismissing steak au poivre as "something I would never order," promises to "flip the dish the way that I wanted to flip it." Work it and slap it and bite it while you're at, baby.
Breakfast lover and oft-eggpoacher Lisa's not worried about eggs Benedict, which, if you know how to poach an egg, is hard to really fuck up. As, if you know how to cook chicken, is chicken piccata, so it's a bit surprising when child prodigy Ryan goes for bread crumbs and tomatoes. He's lost his notepad, but ain't no notepad that can help you now. Zoi makes the smart choice to serve a sweet soufflé after all of the savory dishes -- the judges are usually more forgiving with dessert. Andrew comes off as overconfident and insecure as he rags on Richard's hair (because what kind of loser would do that?) and choice of crab.
After the barest pretense of paying for the food, it's back to the kitchen, where the cooking frenzy erupts. Richard's sautéing a tangle of crab parts, and explains his cakes will be accompanied by a play on cole slaw, a cider reduction, and a smoked mayonnaise. Antonia's working her scampi dish, I am getting a craving for shellfish, and Nimma announces that she'd like her scampi to "cover all of the elements of taste," which seems like a mighty ambitious goal, and which she hopes to accomplish by marinating the shrimp in parsely. Good luck to you! Oh, and she's making a cauliflower custard, which sounds delicious -- I love cauliflower, and am always glad to see it used.
Ryan will be accompanying his breaded, tomato-laced piccata with gnocchi in a dish hereafter known as Chicken Whatever. He's concerned about time and worried he'll be history on the first try -- and I'm worried for him. In a very bold choice, Nikki's going with homemade pasta for her lasagna -- probably in an attempt to prove that no, really, she can work with dough. Stephanie's using a whole duck, but gets spooked when she sees Mark working on a bunch of different things and worries about her level of complexity. When need you him, Yoda where?
Andrew's lost (literally) as he scours the kitchen for the mayonnaise he's sure is there -- it's a stocked kitchen, right? To no avail -- and when he asks Richard where it is, his mounting suspicions are confirmed: there is no mayonnaise in the kitchen, but there are egg yolks and oil, says Richard, right before pulling out the giant jar of mayonnaise he, clever Richard, just pretended to pay for at Whole Foods. That, as Andrew might say, is fucking awesome. Then, after waiting for just the right amount of time while Andrew struggles to make his own mayonnaise (having just learned what is in mayonnaise from his nemesis), Richard "thinks better" of his actions and gallantly offers Andrew some from his jar. Andrew refuses. Loving you and your high hair, Richard.
Team Souffle bonds over their unenviable predicament, which is so San Francisco. The soufflés rise, but, with two minutes on the clock, Nimma's cauliflower flan does not set, so she decides she'll transform it into a scramble, which sounds dubious but intriguing. Nimma's quite pretty, but her voice affects me like Ambien.
Now Richard's playing with a little red contraption that's drawing Andrew's attention from his in-progress mayonnaise -- it's an electrical smoker, and using a blowtorch, Richard is smoking Ras al Hanout, a North African spice blend, and adding it to his dish, which he covers tightly with saran wrap. Per your wishes, Richard, "What the f@&$ did that guy just do?" Plating time. Stephanie's hands shake like crazy -- in case you weren't sure, she's nervous. Colicchio, Rocco, and Bourdain trail Padma, as she ends the challenge.
The four judges are served each of the eight 'menu items' in pairs. The ducks are first -- Mark's is a deconstructed take with a roll of enoki mushrooms, a dollop of squash puree, tangerine- and soy-glazed duck breast, and a "dirty little" sakitini, each occupying their own real estate. Whatever makes that sakitinidirty, I do not want to know. Stephanie looked to Asia as well with duck breast over maitake mushrooms and bok choy with duck spring rolls, all with an orange soy glaze. That one looks much better. The judges quite like it, but are less taken with Mark's. He admits, when questioned, that he'd like a diner to eat a bit of each ingredient with each bite, thus making deconstruction not only unnecessary but a bad choice. Mark heads for potential elimination.
up are the crabs. Andrew delivers a panko and lump crab cake with cilantro-basil pudding and orange sauce -- and no visible mayonnaise. He says something fairly nonsensical about mayonnaise, Rocco asks him if he made mayonnaise, and Andrew says, "I made mayonnaise." MAYONNAISE. Richard "tried to keep things simple," which of course means blue crab, brussels sprouts, and apple cole slaw with electric-smoker-smoked Ras al Hanout, which you release by pulling the saran wrap off the top of your bowl. "Shock and awe," as Richard calls it. Simple. Richard wins, but Colicchio calls both dishes "strong," disliking only the excessive panko in Andrew's crab cakes. They both seem pleased with the results. Mayonnaise.
The lasgana ladies follow. Jennifer went with a northern Italian take, using assorted autumn vegetables, a pork, veal and mushroom meat sauce and a mint verde. Sounds like something's raw, but it looks good. So does Nikki's classic lasagna with a sheep's milk gouda -- all bubbly and melted and cozy. Her handmande pasta impresses the judges, and Colicchio again pronounces both dishes strong, handing the win to Nikki because Jennifer's rutabaga was raw. I think they have a lotion for that.
Shrimp scampi. Nimma's hope as she approaches the judges? "Please be nice." I hope she trips. Antonia's gorgeous parpardelle with shrimp, lobster, tomatoes and squash blossoms -- the judges affirm that it tastes as good as it looks -- goes up against Nimma's scampi with a cauliflower scramble. Padma asks Nimma about a marinade -- or, more specifically, about salt, because there's a lot of it, and by "it" I mean overcompensation. Bourdain's underwhelemed, and Rocco goes so far as to say he "would have to send it back" if it appeared at a restaurant. Antonia: 1, Nimma: 0.
Spike's eggs Benedict involves a poached egg with bacon, mushrooms, and lemongrass sabayon on a crouton, accompanied by some figs with what looks like some blue cheese and perhaps a bit of citrus. Lisa's incorporated a lobster tail into hers, so she will win, and she's also used toasted "halla" [sic], spinach, mache, hollandaise, and bacon. Oh, and an egg. Either of those would do wonders for a hangover, which Bourdain nails as he advises using just such criteria for judging. Lisa wins for putting everything together in one easy-to-eat pile of richness, and for an egg that is, according to Padma, "poached slightly better."
Dale flips it with a sweatband and New York strip steak with candied peppercorn, parsley puree, bok choy and a bunch of other stuff that, when combined, looks like a miniature, oddly-designed village. Manuel makes a run for the border, sporting the colors of the Mexican flag with sirloin with mushroom ceviche and scallion cilantro sauce. Rocco likes Dale's dish for "taking chances," while Colicchio downgrades Manuel's otherwise fine dish for being "too greasy," and Bourdain thinks he went "overboard with the sauce."
Ryan's Chicken Whatever -- a concoction of chicken cutlets with lemon-potato gnocchi and warm herb salad -- actually looks quite tasty (and I am a believer in the adage that a roasted chicken is the test of a chef), but there is not a caper in sight. Valerie sees the opportunity, referring to her dish as more "traditional" -- chicken breast with orange demi-glace and a potato and haricots vert salad -- but that doesn't seem right either. At least there are some capers on her dish, although Ryan's definitely looks better. Colicchio chides Ryan for using bread crumbs, and they both get slammed because they "didn't make piccata" -- thank you, Rocco. But it's Ryan that ends up on the chopping block, for the sin of the crumb -- how awful, since "I've been cooking since I was eleven years old." Oh, I'd forgotten.
Erik's Pepper jack cheese soufflé with avocado crème fraiche, black bean puree, and salsa; or Zoi's rice pudding soufflé with candied figs and fennel, and an espresso with Pernod? It's not a hard choice -- as soon as the plates hit the screen, the winner is obvious. Erik's dish is just a mess, and he topped what's supposed to be a light and airy puff with a mess that includes tortilla chips. And it's not just the soufflé itself -- the colors on the plate (or at least on my TV) make the whole thing even less appealing. Zoi's wins in the looks department, but, when Bourdain asks warily, "Have either of you guys made soufflés before?," you can tell they're both going to get some crap. Apparently they both taste okay, but -- shades of piccata -- they aren't soufflés. Zoi's sweet soufflé ekes out a win.
Tense in the back room, the cheftestants await word from the judges table, as Nimma expresses regret and Mark further convinces me that he should consider a career in folk music if the cooking thing doesn't work out. Padma glides in and asks for four-best Antonia, Nikki, Richard and Stephanie. Rocco praises Antonia's scampi/pasta for "great technical skills and also an ability to restrain yourself." Of Stephanie's duck, Bourdain says, "Loved your dish, great flavor, great composition, great color, great texture." Padma also "loved" Nikki's lasagna -- "it was light, it was tasty, and it was bubbly, and just beautifully done." She so would. And that leaves Colicchio to extol Richard's "forward-thinking" "wonderful rendition" of a "crab cake" that "stands up to a classic" even "after the smoke clears." At least that's what Zagat's says. Colicchio expresses reserved anticipation for Richard's avant-garde stylings and predicts a good season if things remain at this level of overall quality. Mehopes.
Stephanie's duck gets the winning nod in a close race, and therefore Stephanie enjoys the honor of summoning Ryan, Erik, Nimma, and Mark to the gallows, and it occurs to me that Nimma works the sweatband much better than Dale. Erik doesn't have much to say about his soufflé, although Rocco questions the wisdom of using mashed potatoes as his base, and after a brief discussion of the general heaviness of mashed potatoes and the chemical properties of egg whites, Erik cops to dashing the soufflé with tortilla chips, as Bourdain expresses sympathy for the "bad situation right of the gate" in which Erik found himself. "I made glorified nachos. I'm not proud of it," says Erik, winning points with judges and viewers everywhere.
When Padma asks Nimma if she actually thought her scampi was good, Nimma blathers that the "cauliflower favor was definitely there" in the cauliflower scramble, which is really one of the more basic requirements for a well-executed cauliflower dish and not a solid argument for keeping her around. Colicchio asks about the flan versus the scramble, and Nimma blames loose plastic wrap, losing more ground. Then it's time to discuss the shrimp, or, in this case, the pink salt haulers. Bourdain, citing their "major problems with the shrimp," and Nimma's "major problem with the should-have-been flan," proclaims the overall result a "weak dish."
Mark chokes by admitting that he started with the desire to make a deconstructed dish, rather than coming to the idea based on how well the food at hand lends itself to the concept -- which Bourdain rightly labels "silly and pretentious." Colicchio just thought the duck was overcooked, and expresses surprise that Mark "cut a lot of the fat off," which, as Rocco helpfully reminds him, is "what we love about duck -- the fat under the skin."
Ryan, who's looked slightly baffled by the critiques being leveled at the other cheftestants, as though he's never watched the show before, which is stupid, tries to defend his breaded, gnocchi-laden Chicken Whatever with an inane argument about trying to "take down" the massive amounts of starch that haunt his memories of chicken piccata. Full disclosure: piccata is one of my favorite preparations, so perhaps I'm a bit more touchy about the particulars than I might be with, say, ambrosia. It's even better that Ryan has the temerity to say "Correct" as Colicchio delineates the elements that go into piccata. Colicchio reiterates that you have to know the rules to break them, and Padma sends the four off to await their destiny.
Padma wonders if anyone's oral defense has changed the judges thoughts on the absolute worst. Colicchio cites Ryan's ignorance about piccata as a turn-off, which turns me on, and Bourdain laments the fact that Ryan is an inarticulate boob, or, as Rocco says, "It's not only his gnocchi that were dense." Nimma's dish gets dinged for egregious salt and the flamble, or scran, as she regales a terribly bored-looking Lisa with deep insights into how she, Nimma, "let the nerves get the best of me," and how she, Nimma, needs "to know how to zone that out, and I need to learn fast." And then Lisa starts scraping at her wrists with a butter knife.
Back at the table, the judges dissect Erik's soufflé, which in this close-up pan looks like a muddy doo-doo garden leading to a soufflé covered with tortilla chips. I don't think he's going home, though. Like Erik, Mark gets an abbreviated critique -- a poorly thought-out dish poorly executed, but it's obvious that it's going to be either Nimma or Ryan. I find it hard to believe Nimma's going to get sent home, since the kind of person who can drive someone to sleep, violence, or both (see Ambien reference) has got to be an asset on a reality show. She could be deployed like a heat-seeking energy drain. Ryan's cluelessness makes him a good candidate, but I'm not sure we've seen enough of his crazy, and it's eleven years old...I mean, there. Nimma is also the only one in the bottom four who was also a loser in the Quickfire challenge, and if those results do indeed count in the Elimination round, then she's toast.
Seventy-seven percent of people who take the time to text in to Bravo polls believe that Jennifer and Zoi will not enjoy an advantage because they are a couple. Just FYI.
Back at the judges table, Colicchio tells the losing cheftestants that he and his cohorts would like to ascribe the performance of the bottom fourth to "opening night jitters," no, really, they would, but they can't. He cites Ryan's lack of knowledge of the classics, Mark's failure to "echo back" to his given dish and to synthesize the disparate ingredients, and Nimma's across-the-board botching her fairly simple dish (and her overpowering salt). He tells Erik that, while soufflé is undeniably difficult, anyone competing for the title of Top Chef should know how to make one.
Ultimately, it's Nimma who gets the knee-high, calf-skin, stacked-heel boot from Padma -- apparently we got all there is to get from her one-note crazy. Or, almost. After vowing to keep on cooking, Nimma laments that "no one will know that I'm a very good cook," and claims to be "passionate' about cooking. I beg to differ on both counts. Getting selected for this show lets everyone know you are a good cook. Snarfing a challenge lets everyone know you are a good cook who lost a contest. And apparently "passion" stayed home while Nimma went to Chicago. Stick with the cooking, Nimma, because reality TV is not your forte.