By Chuck
Season Two hottie Sam Talbot returns as guest judge and winces through Padma's "bringing sexy salad back" Quickfire. Spike wins with his sensual combination of beef, mint and pineapple, while Antonia comes second with a spinach salad topped with a silky poached egg and tarty bacon vinaigrette. Stephanie fails to plate her artichoke chip, so her fall-inspired salad feels naked in a bad way, while Richard disappoints with a frigid vegetable ceviche and Lisa fails to tame her banana.
After these sexy salads, the segue to Chicago cops and healthy boxed lunches is a no-brainer. Elimination requires a nutritious boxed lunch that reinterprets classic cop fare and integrates a whole grain, a lean protein, a fruit and a vegetable (it also has to be healthy, hearty, satisfying, low carb, low cholesterol and low sugar). Spike's significant advantage, in addition to a 10-minute jump on the shopping, is the choice of one ingredient from each of the four required food groups that only he can use.
Spike chooses bread, chicken, lettuce, and tomatoes, effectively scuttling any easy ways out for his teammates. Lisa suspects sabotage when her brown rice ends up on high heat and burns, but everyone else thinks she's just pointing fingers to cover her own inattentive ass.
Stephanie receives kudos for her rib-sticking mushroom meatball soup, and Dale wins a big bottle of Rutherford wine and two tickets to the winery (airfare and lodging not included, see rules for details) for his bison and lettuce cups, which embodied the challenge with a combination of substance and nutrition.
Spike's so hopped up on smugness from his Quickfire win, his defensive shopping, and his silly marketing strategies that he neglects the product itself and turns out a lame chicken salad, with an odd combination of olives and grapes, along with a flaccid trio of tomato, lettuce and bread that wouldn't look out of place in a dumpster. He ends up in the bottom three, along with Lisa, with her stir fry that was neither, and her undercooked everything, and Andrew, with his uber-healthy raw salmon roll.
When Lisa discovers that claims of sabotage don't automatically excuse one from dismissal, she sacrifices Andrew by exposing his failure to follow the rules -- instead of a whole grain, Andrew used a combination of pine nuts and parsnips to simulate rice in a raw salmon roll, because he's some sort of wizard nutrologist who scoffs at the rules. For this transgression, and for making something that was neither satisfying nor delicious, Andrew and his knives depart.
As Season Four accelerates toward the finale, it's great to see all of the long-forgotten faces in the credits -- Valerie Who? -- before getting down to business with the remaining seven chef-testants. Stephanie, tweezing away at her eyebrows, expresses sadness that Nikki went "down in flames" for eschewing leadership of and contributing substandard fare to the Italian wedding feast (after a decent showing in the Common Thread challenge). Whatever, she totally deserved the ax (I can't believe she made it as far as she did). Now if we could just get rid of Spike. Repeating the opening vignette mantra, Stephanie explains that (join in the chorus, everyone) the remaining chefs are good, and the competition will continue to get harder.
Richard, who apparently sleeps fully dressed (including his infuriating pink shoes), perches on the side of his rumpled bed, rubs his eyes, and reminds the audience at home that, prior to a few hours of sleep, they were up for more than 40 hours straight, and are about to wade right back into competition. Everyone's still exhausted and, according to Spike, Dale's still a bitch. Spike, doesn't understand Dale's "asshole," I'm-not-here-to-make-friends approach, and thinks it will follow and haunt Dale at some juncture of his career. I think Spike's deluded pot is calling Dale's kettle black. Also, he might want to consider cleaning up his bottle-strewn nightstand. Dale just wants to get away from the drama, the emotions, and the tension that emanates from his housemates -- they all think he's being a dick, he says, and he just wants some peace and quiet. To find it, he'll focus on the task at hand, and not on anyone around him.
Andrew seconds Richard's observation that everyone's still fatigued after the wedding challenge -- except for him. Still enjoying his long-lasting, Cialis-style culinary boner, Andrew's got a fire in his belly that's egging him on to either stab someone or make some amazing food. Well, enjoy that feeling while it lasts, my friend.
All nine towering feet (and hopefully as many inches) of Season Two studmuffin Sam Talbot have joined Padma in the kitchen for the Quickfire. "Tall dark and handsome, and he can cook -- sign me up," says Antonia. The line starts here, sister. Sam's rocking nouveau-military chic with a structured olive jacket, t-shirt and jeans, while Padma's chosen an understated off-the-shoulder, asymmetrical midnight blue number. Sam will be acting as guest judge today -- based on what accomplishments I'm not entirely sure (although eye candy is justification enough) -- for a challenge that restores the oft-maligned salad to glory. Dale believes that making salad can be as difficult as roasting a perfect filet or crafting the perfect sauce -- "its finesse, its vision" -- as Sam encourages the gang to put some "sexy back" into salads. Paging Jen and her erect asparagus! For Andrew, a strong salad isn't just a bunch of vegetables thrown onto a plate -- it has to be creative. He's the proud recipient of today's Young Visionary Award.
Padma hopes that the Quickfire will yield "this millennium's Caesar or Cobb or Waldorf salad," which shouldn't be a problem with 45 WHOPPING MINUTES ON THE CLOCK! OK, that is, I admit, a fairly good chunk of time to make a solid salad. Or, as Padma groan-inducingly puts it, "to bring salad sexy back." Ingredients from both the well-stocked table behind her and from the Top Chef pantry may be used. Sam looks uncomfortable. But damn cute.
Though Quickfires are not his forte, Spike wants to win, which he'll do by using sliced cucumbers and radishes, and what looks like a nice hunk of beef, to create a salad that screams "Let's have sex after we eat this salad!" Let's! For Richard, the sexiness of salad comes from the looseness of the word itself -- I too have always thought of salad as a wanton harlot. His interpretation is a fruit and vegetable ceviche with ginger and lime juice. Lisa, agreeing that 45 minutes is a long time for a salad, nevertheless sees simple salads, and inferior individuals, all around her -- not only are there some undeserving, mediocre chefs in her midst, she says, "their personalities suck ass." Cut to Dale.
Stephanie's using artichokes, mushrooms and pears to create a salad brimming with fall tastes, and she's feeling the pressure. There are three more people to go before the final four, and she doesn't want to be one of them. Antonia, fondly recalling high-calorie steakhouse offerings, professes her love for the fatty salad as she slices bacon, which she'll use in a spinach salad with a poached egg. She's also starting to realize that Lisa, with her bitchface and her high quality ingredients, represents strong female competition, although she didn't register her as a threat in the beginning. As the clock ticks down, there's much running about, and Stephanie seems to be having some plating issues -- sure enough, she forgets to put her artichoke chip on the plate, which leaves half of the plate empty and glaring white, but she hopes that her tastes will compensate for her screw-up.
Sam and Padma begin with Andrew, who's created a "Thai fruit salad" with mangoes, strawberries, raspberries and a sriracha dressing (and what looks like a bit of cilantro and chives sprinkled on top). Sam likes the flavor imparted by the dressing. Spike, with his "sensual beef salad" of pineapple, radish, cucumber, skirt steak and mint, gets points from Sam for its contrast, while Lisa's "sexy banana salad" with grilled squid and lobster tail, bananas and yuzu vinaigrette strikes Sam as not spicy enough and Padma as too heavy on the banana. Stephanie's "fall duet" of pear vinaigrette, poached pear and marinated artichokes (she cops to the chip debacle) elicits nary a comment. Antonia's "poached egg and wild mushroom salad" with bacon vinaigrette and squash blossoms (and mache, hello), looks mighty tasty and impresses Sam with its "great flavor."
Richard's "fresh and clean salad" with a ceviche of meticulously cubed fruits and vegetables looks too bland and sedate to inspire any naughty salad fantasies. Dale thinks his "poached chicken salad" (seriously, each of these salads has a "name") with nori paste, mirin, sake, rice wine vinegar and what appear to be brussels sprout leaves and radishes (??) includes the "fifth flavor element" -- presumably umami. It looks like a bit of a mess on the plate, but Sam likes the moistness of the poached chicken (which can often be too dry).
Delivering his overall opinions of the salad, Sam chooses Richard as his first disappointment, as the ceviche didn't pack ceviche's hallmark acidic punch. Stephanie's pear vinaigrette was underwhelming, and 45 minutes should have been ample time for her to get that chip on the plate. While Sam did like Lisa's use of squid and lobster, he didn't like the fact that the banana overwhelmed what was ultimately more "a hodgepodge" than a well-executed salad. Nice to see some relatively high wattage relegated to the bottom three, but, as Stephanie said earlier, the dreck is almost gone. Almost. In terms of the standouts, Sam selects Spike's well-balanced beef and pineapple mélange, Antonia's effort (cutting into a poached egg and watching the yolk ooze over the plate is, as Sam correctly observes, sexy), and Dale's innovative use of nori puree. But there can only be one victor, and when Sam chooses Spike, you can almost see Spike's hat expand as his head gets even bigger. No more immunity, Padma reminds him, but he will get "a significant advantage" in the upcoming elimination challenge.
After all those wimpy salads, Sam and Padma must be hungry, because they suddenly appear with two trays piled high with delicious-looking, greasy fast food -- burgers, onion rings, fries, egg rolls, sandwiches, and more. Unfortunately, it's not lunch, but a cautionary introduction to the challenge. With the spread of obesity and diabetes terrorizing innocent Americans (poor Sam, a diabetic himself, has a hard time finding low sugar, low carb food that actually tastes like something), it's important to eat consciously and sensibly. The two trays of food represent a typical lunch order from the officers and cadets of the Chicago Police Academy, and the challenge will be to reimagine the nefarious lunchtime eats of Chicago's finest into a healthy boxed lunch that includes at least one ingredient from each of four food groups: whole grains, lean proteins, fruits, and vegetables. "In other words, protect their health, and serve them something tasty." Thanks, Padma -- you and your sexy back are on a roll this week!
For building the sexiest salad, Spike will enjoy a ten-minute jump on the shopping, as well as the ability to choose one ingredient from each of the four required food groups that only he can use. He feels that said advantage will enable him to start showing off the tricks he's tucked up his sleeve -- Stephanie laments that Spike's the one with the leg up, since she's sure he'll use it to "fuck us all over" (as opposed to simply focusing on improving his own performance) "which I'm sure he's very excited about." She's absolutely right -- he is excited, and he's an ass. This is a competition, lest anyone forget, and while various "strategies," as Spike calls them, may show one to be not such a nice person, they're all -- short of outright cheating and rule breakage -- legit. Andrew doesn't care what Spike does or does not do, since he has a background in nutrition and working with raw foods, and thinks he'll be able to concoct something that will make people say "wow" and "awesome" in annoying baby voices.
Over at Whole Foods, Spike makes a point of running around while the rest of the gang has to stand and watch him, unable to do anything for ten excruciating minutes, as Antonia rehashes what's going on. "Now it's time to piss everybody off," says Spike, enjoying his current situation more than immunity since it means he gets to actively hamper his teammates' efforts. Offering a snide wave, Spike explains that he's going to choose ingredients that will make things more difficult for everyone else. As he asks the butcher for chicken breasts, he explains that he'll be doing chicken salad, since chicken is the go-to lean lunchtime protein and they'll all have to fight over meat; in addition to chicken, he selects tomatoes, bread, and lettuce, effectively blocking anyone else from assembling the traditional lunchtime duo of sandwich and salad without a lot of thought and creativity. There's plenty that can be done without using those ingredients, but Spike's definitely making things a bit more difficult. And boy is he pleased with himself.
Antonia says that if Spike doesn't use the tomatoes tomorrow, he's going straight to hell. While frustrated by the degree to which Spike seems to enjoy screwing the competition, his outward focus leads her to believe that he hasn't actually spent much time thinking about his own dish. After he rattles off his short list of ingredients to the other six, Spike insists that it's nothing personal, before telling the camera, with the grin of a true douche, that it totally is. Andrew feels that Spike has chosen "the four most dumbed-down components on purpose" because everyone in the house is "stupid" (I was actually not aware that Andrew felt this way about his compatriots) and will now be forced to get creative with their dishes. With 30 minutes and $175, the rest of the group now gets to start its hunt and gather.
Spike's choices do screw with Stephanie, who says her original plan of chicken and smoked tomatoes won't work as she tentatively selects some butternut squash. Lisa, derailed from her simple sandwich and soup concept, changes her chicken and turkey order at the butcher counter to ground turkey only, and explains that she'll go with a shrimp stir fry (with ground turkey?). Richard's settled on a bok choy and tuna burrito, while Andrew parlays two years of studying nutrition into "walking around like a dart -- on point," selecting all manner of healthy ingredients, and asserting that Spike's evildoing will have no effect on his wizardry, because he's light years beyond. After some register-area bantering and vegetable close-ups, night becomes day, and it's time for the cookdown.
Stephanie explains that they'll be incorporating their ingredients into a box lunch that will be given to the police officers with instructions -- they'll have to heat them up all by themselves. Antonia elaborates -- two hours in the Top Chef kitchen to cook, then off to the police academy for lunch service. Great -- yet another cook and transport, catering-style challenge! She'll be toting a curried beef dish with jasmine and brown rice and a fresh berry fruit salad. After her Common Thread win, along with her practice of healthy home cooking, Antonia's confident in her ability to win. But she better watch out for Andrew's sushi roll -- he's so certain it's going to be the bomb that he's bound to win, right? Instead of rice, he's pulverizing parsnips and pine nuts together (gross), which he'll combine with vegetables and raw salmon (tartare style). Well, that does sound healthy, and rather unappetizing. He'd really like to win this one, so he can "show these people who is the man." Despite the presence of eight testicles (we can only assume), I'm not convinced that there are any "men" currently in the Top Chef kitchen. In fact, Stephanie thinks Andrew's choice of sushi is a bit girly -- not the kind of hearty fare that's going to satisfy hungry cops, much less her.
Dale draws on his expertise in Asian food for a lunch of lettuce cups -- he's using napa cabbage, so they're actually cabbage cups -- with marinated bison meat and Vietnamese style herbs, peanuts, etc. Bison, Dale explains, is similar to beef but is much lower in cholesterol and fat. Antonia, apparently operating under the delusion that brats are Asian food, excoriates Dale for being unable to cook anything other than Asian, and thinks he's going to suffer for his narrow scope. Speaking of a focus on Asian cooking, Lisa's hard at work on her vegetable and shrimp stir fry, which she'll accompany with a pineapple soy sauce and brown rice. She gets down to business immediately, since it takes a long time to cook. Despite Andrew's voiced concern as to the cholesterol level of shrimp, Lisa decides to take the risk, noting that since the lunch is also supposed to be low-carb, low-sugar and low-fat. Maybe she should take a page from 30 Rock and just serve boxes of air. Lisa does not want to end up on the chopping block with a good dish and a technicality, so she's making sure she's doing the best she can to make something tasty that adheres to the rules. Hear that, Andrew? At least shoot for one or the other!
It's Tom Time. Colicchio strides into the kitchen and over to Stephanie, who's busy with her mushroom leek soup and meatballs -- perfect, she thinks, for lunch on this nice cold day. It'll taste good and stick to the ribs. After telling Colicchio of her "veggie, edamame and just a little bit of shrimp stir fry," she pulls out a blender container with some homemade hot sauce, "if you dare," and offers it to him. He dares, and it totally stops him in his tracks -- you can see how spicy it is on his normally stoic face. In fact, it's so spicy that Colicchio blurts, "It's a good thing we're not cooking for the firemen, because that's a seven alarmer." He and Padma clearly have the same joke writer. Colicchio wanders away as his mouth begins to cool -- "finally."
Spike's , and Colicchio restates the chicken/tomato/lettuce/bread blocking strategy ("aren't I super awesome?" smirks Spike) before wondering if he's actually going to use the tomatoes. Spike assures him that he will -- he wasn't going to at first, but thought better of simply displaying them for everyone else to see. He'll slice them and lay them atop a slice of lettuce, and upon this stroke of genius, the chicken salad shall rest.
"Do you like burritos?" asks Richard as Colicchio approaches. Always with the questions, that one. "Depends on if it's a good burrito or not," answers Colicchio. Richard informs him that cops like burritos, every last one of them, so he's doing a burrito with (you guessed it) a twist -- lentils, rice, and quinoa, quick-grilled tuna. He does not want to go home for a boxed lunch. With half an hour left, it's time to begin preparing for transport (oh, the horror) as Colicchio surmises that the chef-testants are actually okay with this week's focus on healthy, diabetic-friendly food, and their skill and creativity should yield some delicious results.
Everything's going swimmingly for Lisa, who's monitoring her brown rice carefully, standing close by with a timer set, until she discovers that her burner is on high. "Somebody has cranked my rice all the way to high," she sputters, burning it on the outside and leaving it undercooked in the center. Brown rice takes time, she says, and she can't cook another batch, so what should have been easy has become terribly hard. She's totally fucked, and the notion that there is a saboteur lurking among their ranks is simply more than she can bear (it's almost like she's most upset that her "cake walk" got interrupted). As Lisa begins frantically scooping rice into a chinoise, Stephanie calmly offers her opinion that there is no sabotage and that some people would rather blame others than accept responsibility for their own mistakes. Dale just thinks that Lisa should calm her ass down because things like that happen in kitchens all the time. That's just the way it goes. Claiming sabotage is a sorry way to cover your own ass. Lisa decides to box the rice with some of the cooking liquid with the hope that it will all steam together in the microwave. Spike keeps dropping metal and making noise (that's it, get in their heads) as they head for the po po.
At the Chicago Police Education and Training Academy -- wow, an education academy! -- people do push-ups and jumping jacks. They welcome Top Chef, but unauthorized persons will be subject to arrest. While they do sit-ups (are these people the calisthenics police?), the chef-testants hand-write their instruction labels. Though she's still shitting a brick about her rice (which is what others will likely do after eating it), Lisa hopes that her reheating instructions will make everything okay. Sure, as long as the final instruction is "DO NOT EAT."
They're each stationed at a small table in the strikingly blue and white cafeteria, and the cops enter en masse and mill about as they decide which healthy boxed lunch they'd like to endure. The chef-testants each work to sell their dish -- poor Andrew must know that word "raw" doesn't sit well with a lot of people. Antonia, free of outstanding tickets or warrants in Chicago, sees the cops as nice, regular people (god love the ones that are), and Richard chirps, "Do you like burritos?" Holy headband -- Richard's decided to pair a thin headband with his ever-upward fauxhawk for a look that I can only describe as...gorgeous. It's really gorgeous. "Do you like burritos? Do you like burritos?" Does the headband somehow signify "parrot?" Spike makes fun of Richard the cheeseball, which he totally deserves.
The cops make their selections, and then they have to go and microwave their lunches in a row of ovens along one wall. Individually. It's annoying to walk into your office kitchen, all hungry and ready to heat up lunch, only to find someone else ahead of you. Imagine waiting behind a room full of people -- I hope they've confiscated any firearms. Then they're all sitting eating together, so there's no way the reheating really happened that way. Spike's come up with the savvy marketing ploy of putting two dishes on his table, hiding the rest (if by "hiding" you mean putting them behind you, on the cooler, in plain sight), and acting like they're vanishing -- only to put two more on the table after they've been snapped up. Paging Donald Trump: This kid's really got what it takes! And it impresses Lisa almost as much as it impresses Spike, so you know it's pure gold.
Officially speaking, Stephanie's serving a mushroom and meatball soup with barley, and a root vegetable puree (butternut squash, celery root and apple) to be topped with a chive yogurt, and it comes in four separate plastic containers. Glad: 1, Earth: Zero. The cops like it in ways that range from "Better than McDonald's" to "It all comes together very well with the onions and mushrooms." The judges (Padma, Colicchio, Ted and Sam) give it high marks as well -- Ted enjoys its kick and its heartiness, and Colicchio finds the seasoning to his liking.
If looks don't lie, Antonia was right about Spike's lack of thought regarding his dish, an uninspired pile of chicken salad with grapes, jicama, and olives (but no mayo, which was smart), pita chips, and some poorly plated raw vegetables. I'm liking Padma's jacket here -- warm, soft yet tailored, golden brown, double-breasted, trimmed with white piping. One of the cops, fooled by Spike's ingenuity, points out that mayo was a no-no, but that the salad is good. Padma, of course, is a tougher critic. She labels it "pedestrian," while Colicchio picks up an entire lettuce leaf, a droopy slice of tomato, and a soggy piece of bread and registers his scorn that this is what Spike chose to do with three of the exclusive ingredients he chose. It's pathetic indeed -- Ted, for some reason almost stage whispering (maybe he's nervous in a room of men in uniform), thinks that if Spike had two hours to make chicken salad, then he probably had time to do something more interesting with the bread and the lettuce and the tomato, now jumbled in a sad pile that resembles the bottom of a deli tray that's been sitting a hot conference room all afternoon.
Dale's offering a lemongrass bison lettuce wrap with brown rice and an herb salad with mint, radish and cucumber. It goes over fairly well, and although Ted thinks it could have used more heat, he does like the colors, the texture and the flavor of the bison. up is Antonia's curried beef (with filet mignon), brown jasmine rice with cilantro and scallion, and fresh berries and figs with Concord grape syrup. The cops like the beef and the sauce ("whatever it is"), and the judges agree, with Ted proclaiming the beef well-cooked, and Padma the flavors "delicious." Sam almost leaps out of his seat as he agrees "one hundred percent." Before handing his dish over to Ted, Andrew wants to emphasize his commitment to health, which inspired him to devise a completely raw dish -- a salmon roll with parsnip-pine nut "rice" and pickled ginger wasabi. That is not a dish that will feed any hungry person who's not had gastric bypass surgery for lunch. Andrew manages to tell Ted that wasabi is good for ("helps prevent," I'll assume he meant) tooth decay before Ted makes a beeline to anywhere but there. One of the cops proclaims it "good, just messy," but for Padma it's "very strange." Ted thinks the flavor just wasn't good, and Padma observes that Andrew did not, as the rules stipulated he must, use a whole grain. So apparently this will be a challenge where the rules matter. You never know these days.
Now it's Sam who must answer Andrew's burning question, "Do you like burritos?" "I do," says Sam. But does he like spring rolls? Because that's essentially what Richard's done, calling them grilled tuna burritos with lentils and quinoa in a rice paper tortilla with fresh lime juice and hot sauce. Ted thinks "it tastes better than it looks, fortunately," while Colicchio digs it and one of the cops offers his opinion that it would make a lovely summer meal. Lisa walks Colicchio through her shrimp (yes, everyone knows it's just "a little bit") stir-fry with brown rice and pineapple hot sauce, fresh berries and Greek yogurt on the side. Lisa should be nervous about her rice because, no surprise, it's undercooked -- "way," grunts Sam -- but the spiciness of the hot sauce appeals to Ted and a couple of cops, one of whom looks like a very blond Jake Gyllenhaal, at least in profile.
Service wraps as Andrew does the robot and expresses hope that the judges will respect the different route he took. Dale cops to being really nervous because for once, there's neither a clear winner nor a clear loser. He just needs the editors -- they always let you know who's going to end up where. In terms of first-impression judging, Sam, who comes from a family of cops, says he liked several of the dishes and he didn't like others. Deep. Colicchio believes that the only way to get people to be healthy is to serve them food that tastes good. Deeper. And with that, they've got their favorites, and it's back to the judges' table.
Back in the stew room, Lisa's still claiming sabotage to anyone who will listen. Spike wonders if they all had to use at least one ingredient from each of the four groups, or if it was merely a suggestion, and the question seems to be resolved in favor of the former -- it was a requirement. This makes Andrew a bit wary, since he didn't (as he now tells the rest of the group) use a whole grain. Padma appears and cuts the chat short, summoning Dale and Stephanie (just two top performers this week) to the table. After it's confirmed that these two did the best, Ted wonders how their idea of a typical Chicago cop lunch informed their dishes. Dale explains that he really wanted to offer something hearty, and Colicchio, highlighting the bison's fifty-percent-less-fat-than-beef factoid, and its beefy goodness, praises Dale for making a nutritious choice that also delivers a familiar food sensation.
Stephanie's biggest challenge was using the whole grain, as she doesn't include a lot of grains on her menus and had never before used barley, but she was pleased with the final results as they left the kitchen. True, says Ted, and even better: The soup was quite well-seasoned, in a season in which a lot of the chef-testants have had trouble with, uh, seasoning. Guest judge Sam gets to choose the ultimate winner. The one who "really embodied the challenge" with a dish that was "a little bit more substantial, a little bit more unique" was Dale. Another victory (well-deserved, in my opinion) for Dale -- and it is nice to see Stephanie back on solid footing. For his troubles, Dale wins a magnum of Rutherford Hill 2002 merlot, as well as two tickets to visit the Napa Valley winery (Padma doesn't clarify if that means entry tickets to the winery, or air tickets to California). Dale doesn't want to brag, so he does -- five wins out of twenty, which is, admittedly, a pretty impressive showing.
Winning comes with a price, though, and Dale must endure the pain of summoning Spike, Lisa and Andrew to the loser's round of the judging, which really hurts. Right, Dale? The beatdown starts with Andrew: Padma asks if he really thought that a salmon roll was a hearty enough lunch for a hungry cop. Sure did, responds Andrew, and then proceeds to dance around the question with a lengthy discourse on bringing something unexpected to the table, studying nutrition, choosing every ingredient in the roll "to basically make you stronger or make you feel a little more energized," leaving your audience wanting more, and eating fist-sized meals every three hours because that's the healthy thing to do. So you think the cops would go for another roll in three hours, wonders Colicchio. Try a candy bar. And then, says Ted, there was also that part about the food actually being satisfying. Andrew wonders if this was in his rule sheet (more on that later), and Padma assures him it was: "Hearty, nutritious, and delicious." Ted wonders if Andrew thought at all about his real audience -- as opposed to the one in his head -- in terms of reinterpreting something familiar instead of striking off for left field, and Andrew maintains that he wanted to showcase something new, which may have been insanely healthy, but unfortunately was also unsubstantial and gross.
Spike likes chicken salad. That's why he made it. And because it wouldn't frighten the cops, those food sissies. Not, he assures everyone, because it would make things more difficult for the competition. Sam questions the level of thought that went into the use of the tomato, lettuce, and bread -- Spike wants to know what was so bad, so Colicchio asks if he chose the ingredients because they were integral to his vision or because he's a schemer (not that there's anything wrong with that). Even if you do make choices for strategic as opposed to creative reasons, counsels Colicchio, use what you choose. Oh, and by the way, the combination of olives and grapes in the chicken salad was rather weird. "Salty and sweet," responds Spike. "What don't you understand about salty and sweet?" Oh, zing -- he really got you there, Colicchio! Except that olives are more than salt, and their flavor simply doesn't work with grapes, you little shit. Spike counters that the people's palate liked the food, even if the smarty-palate judges didn't, and they argue about who's better until Colicchio asserts his "final say" authority and Spike gets a gong from the sound guys.
Lisa makes the judges tell her why she's there instead of going all knee-jerk defensive in response to Padma's question about the reason for her presence. Your stir fry was neither, says Colicchio, and there were so many, many things cooked incorrectly. Long beans, shrimp, and (most notably) brown rice were woefully undercooked, even after microwaving, he continues. This compels Lisa to confess that "somebody fucked with my rice." She delivers her sob story and her conviction that, no, Ted, she did not accidentally turn it up to high herself, because she had the burner set at low and was using a timer, and the rice had about ten to twelve minutes left when the evil agent struck (which is a bit odd, because if the rice only had ten minutes left, wouldn't it be at least partially cooked?). Dirty business aside, says Colicchio, all the other stuff was raw.
"Do you have anything else to add before the judges deliberate?" asks Padma, each word pregnant with significance. Lisa, squirming under the realization that her claims of sabotage haven't saved her from elimination, decides to employ her new-found love of the rules, and a defense for looking out for number one, to call out Andrew on his failure to use a whole grain. "I don't want to point fingers," she says, pointing fingers. "We are aware of it," Colicchio assures her, because we know all. We just like to watch you all implode. Ah, says Andrew, "I've always been against the grain" (ouch) and, when asked why he didn't use one, again focuses on his desire to be different, to do "rice" instead of rice. Colicchio then confirms that Andrew understood the challenge (and was therefore knowingly breaking the rules, as opposed to being unaware). He did, however, lose his rule sheet early in the challenge (I've never seen a rule sheet in any of the episodes, although it does make sense that there would be one), and forged ahead without it. Lisa apologizes for calling Andrew out, and maintains that he'd have done the same to her. He wouldn't, he says, and that's the difference. "If I say any more, I'm scared I'm going to get punched," says Lisa. If only.
Interesting, agree the judges, as Andrew runs an index and a middle finger from under his eyes down his cheeks, freaking out Antonia. Spike wonders, as I do, why on earth she'd insert herself into the argument. Maybe she's craving screen time, since she landed right in the middle this week. Andrew thinks Lisa's seeking vengeance for Andrew's remark about the high cholesterol of her shrimp (which wasn't part of the judging segment, and it's really lame that he'd think Lisa would be angry about something he said during prep, except for the fact that she totally would). She's just competing in a competition, bro.
Speaking of Lisa, the judges think she should have taken ownership of her crappy dish instead of pointing fingers (Lisa again brings up the evildoer in their midst). Ted, citing the "nasty" shrimp, points to problems with her lunchbox that extend far beyond sabotage. As for Spike, Sam again expresses disbelief that Spike created what he did with the ingredients he chose -- a "failure of imagination," says Colicchio, one further compromised, perhaps, by Spike's focus on a substandard chicken salad to the detriment of everything else. Andrew, first of all, didn't follow the rules. That's not good. In addition, the arrogant responses to the judges' questions, says Ted, demonstrate that Andrew did only what Andrew wanted to do, without any consideration for his audience, and even then he didn't make it very good. More footage of Andrew and Lisa fighting. Is Lisa a Top Chef for "calling [Andrew] out under the bus?" Can she stand behind her dish instead of claiming sabotage? Is Andrew a stable individual? If you answered "no," to all of these questions, you are a winner.
The judges come to a unanimous decision. The nutritional requirements, the audience and their usual lunch fare, and "the food police up here," says Sheriff Colicchio, made this a tough challenge, and y'all three blew it. Andrew's nutritional sincerity was undermined by his failure to serve something substantial and tasty. Spike underwhelmed everyone with his unimaginative use of ingredients, and his strange-tasting chicken salad. Lisa should pay more attention to her surroundings if she's so concerned about sabotage, and, for the sake of truth in advertising, should have sold her dish as steamed vegetables rather than a stir-fry.
Ultimately, it's Andrew who goes home for a boxed lunch, and unfortunately he agrees to leave without security, but only after bowing out "with honor and respect" and shaking the hand of each judge. "I look forward to eating your food again," says Padma. "You will," says Andrew because he's going to keep on cooking. He's not going to keep talking to the other chef-testants, however, except for "mad cool" Spike, because those two love each other. Lisa, he thinks, is weak, but she believes the rule-breakers should be the ones sent home -- which, despite the way this season has played fast and loose with the rules, is a legitimate argument. Andrew's proud of his performance on the show, especially since he came in with much less experience than many of the others. Spike laments the loss of his last buddy in the house. This is guy utterly lacking in false pretenses.
"I'm always against the grain," Andrew jokes again, beating that dead pun horse as he congratulates himself for playing with honor, respect and loyalty. And volatility. The question remains whether the judges would have brought up Andrew's whole grain transgression if Lisa hadn't -- you have to believe they would have, but they cleverly managed to avoid any statement to that effect, which just makes Lisa look worse. Based on this challenge, Andrew's probably the right choice, but it's a bummer to see him go over Spike and Lisa. Also, they lied: week is restaurant wars.