- bravo
Tonight at 9 p.m. on Bravo, local heroines/chefs Ashley Merriman (of Branzino) and Robin Leventhal (formerly of Crave) continue to vie for the Top Chef crown. Last week featured:
• Leventhal getting immunity from a complicated team challenge—which involved prepping clams/prawns/lobsters/chops—by pulling a gold poker chip out of a hat borne into the kitchen by approximately 19 spangled/feathered showgirls (the already insanely complicated show is set in Las Vegas, so it’s going! to! involve! more! chance! than! ever! as everyone keeps saying over and over)
• “Jersey Mike,” Mike Isabella, establishing himself as the season a-hole by making at least two completely sexist comments (one of which involved a no-chick’s-gonna-beat-me sentiment, another of which involved calling Leventhal an “old lady” who he “didn’t have to worry about”)
• Ron Duprat (pictured, because look! at! him!) describing his terrifying emigration by boat from Haiti, being somewhat incomprehensible but lovably jovial as well as gigantic, and doing very well
• Ashley Merriman working away quietly, not getting a lot of attention, but looking damn competent
• Wolfgang Puck as a judge hurling doughnuts and being hilarious (“A doughnut should not be like a football”—throws the doughnut in question across the room—”it should be fluffy, like a cloud!”)
• Padma’s cleavage
• The making of a dish using seitan, the maker of which dish then got kicked off the show (“It’s like a vegan bar midnight special,” Padma said in a distinctly underwhelmed tone)
Previews of the rest of the season indicate that Leventhal’s cancer-survivorship is going to cause some nuttiness, e.g., “She told everyone she fucking had cancer—that’s a pretty good way to win.” Leventhal also will lose her cool once or twice, it appears. Meanwhile, it looks like Merriman continues to work away quietly, looking damn competent.
Viewing parties tonight may be found at Faire on Capitol Hill and the Bottleneck Lounge on Madison. If you know of any more, put ’em in comments.
All season six bios and more collateral crap than you can shake a stick at here.
Ashley Merriman is MY hero! Chef it up Ash!!!
Bethany – Holly Smith of Cafe Juanita will be on the Food Network “Next Iron Chef” show.
Um, yeah. FUCK Ron Duprat. That guy was a complete and utter useless tool.
Yeah, women have been cooking for thousands of years while men hunted, but being a chef is a “mans work”
Moron.
Robin is a total sweetheart.If I heard some prick badmouthing her, especially about that, I’d put on my clown suit and break a chair on his head!
Seriously though, these upcoming episode may make me angry.
@3: Did Ron say that? I missed it. You don’t mean Jersey Mike? God. Damn. It.
Is it at 9? http://www.bravotv.com indicates 10, but it’s hard to tell because they’re apparently airing some megamarathon of TC today…
Jersey Mike also queried of Jen, the Chef de Cuisine at an Eric Ripert restaurant, “so, are you the pastry chef?” to which she deadpanned, “I’m the Chef de Cuisine.” A-hole.
Good luck to the Seattle chefs, though I’m of course pulling for my hometown (Atlanta) hero Kevin, who’s Woodfire Grill was my favorite restaurant waaaaay before I knew he was a contestant.
Note: Atlanta chef Hector from Pura Vida in Atlanta landed on the bottom four last episode for his deep-fried, cigar smoke-infused Ribeye with carrot puree and celery cevice. The dish is a special at the restaurant, and I must say that it is uncannily, weirdly delicious, but only to me because I used to smoke a pipe and like the taste of raw, cured tobacco.
@BJC: Awww shit I put the wrong name! I blame my copy/paste skills. I was looking into Ron on ‘the google’ (as the kids say), and didn’t copy Jersey Mike’s name properly (obviously) when I wrote the comment. DAMN!
Ok Re-phrase: FUCK MIKE ISABELLA. There. Sorry to Ron if he read this. My bad.
I miss Crave.
Jersey Mike is definitely the season villain. What a prick. And I think Ashley is going far — she’s working way under the radar which usually bodes well for longevity. I think Jennifer Carroll will make it to the end, too. Wow she’s good.
Top Chef was always one of the few reality shows I could tolerate. Now that it’s set in Las Vegas, I cannot tolerate it.
Ashley is the biggest Seattle cliche. Flannel? Check. Sickly pale skin? Check. Skinny jeans? Check. Self-righteous crying about marriage inequality when she should spend more time on her watermelon vomit? Check.