The Wife:

The final four episodes of this season of House almost made up for Kutner’s random-ass suicide in their inventiveness. Almost. I thoroughly enjoyed the return of Amber as House’s ghostly hallucination and his three-episode quest to discern exactly what’s wrong with him, either way knowing that if he’s crazy, he can’t practice medicine, and if he’s experiencing side effects from his Vicodin addiction, he can’t practice medicine because once he’s clean he’ll be in too much pain. Anne Dudek was delightful has his subconscious manifestation throughout this arc, especially the moment in which she reappears after House thinks he has staved her off by OD’ing on insulin, singing old jazz standards over the microphone at his bar, echoing her first appearance beside his piano. But nothing, really, was more chilling than the final episode, when House realizes he’d hallucinated the entire night he spend kicking Vicodin with Cuddy, ending in the two of them sleeping together. Reliving all of the moments we saw of him flipping coins or examining a tube of lipstick are replayed with Vicodin bottles replacing those objects, suggesting a very powerful drug addiction that has completely taken over House’s life, was pretty brilliant. Frankly, I’d prefer more arcs like this, rather than so many one-off episodes. But what else are you going to do with a 24-episode season? So while everyone else attends Cameron and Chase’s wedding (they spent these past few episodes almost not getting married because a. Cameron kind of got cold feet b. House nearly killed Chase with a stripper covered in strawberry body butter . . . that apparently was made with actual strawberry extract and c. Chase was being a dick to Cameron about keeping her dead husband’s sperm on ice because he took it to mean that she thought they weren’t going to work out, rather than, you know, being the last thing she has to hold on to of her fucking husband), House checks himself in to a mental institution . . . which he will inevitably check himself out of at the beginning of next season because you can do that kind of thing with you are voluntarily committed.

I should have known this was too good to be true . . .

I should have known this was too good to be true . . .

As far as the patients were concerned, I’m often irritated by how precious the conceits are in which every patient is a metaphor for someone on the team, etc. So I totally get why the guy with split brain whose hand was not his hand was necessary for the metaphor of the finale, it was also perhaps added just a tad too much levity, despite how much Thirteen et all tried to tell me it was creepy. The only patient that really got to me out of this bunch was the ballerina who lost her skin. A lot of my research deals with holes in the surface of the body, mitigations of that surface or the abjecta beneath the surface, but I found her skinlessness to actually be quite frightening. Perhaps its because I’ve had skin cancer that I find the idea of losing that much skin so terrifying (which, for the record, makes no sense, because the removal of skin cancers just leaves some awesome scars), but its more likely the fact that, without the mitigation of the surface, the inside is all that much more frightening. We forget that our skin is the largest organ on our bodies, and so it is vital that we take care of it. Losing a little bit when you scrape your elbow or knee is fine, and hardly horrifying, but losing so much that we are exposed so wholly to the world is truly unsettling. And deadly. I shuddered for that poor girl. She’s just damn lucky that Princeton-Plainsboro has so many fresh cadavers from which to harvest grafts. I know the episode wanted us to sympathize more with the possibility that she, a dancer, would have to have her gangrenous hands and feet removed in order to live (Taub managed to revive the tissue, somehow), but the loss of her flesh was something I couldn’t get out of my head. And I doubt I will.

So, damn you, House, you actually got me. Good for you.

Considering how poorly I did at keeping up with House this year, I don’t think I’ll write about it next year. I’ll still be watching, though, storing up dozens of episodes on my DVR to marathon whenever I get a break from my book learnin’.

The Husband:

And so the month of season finales involving hallucinations continue, and between this, Bones, and Grey’s Anatomy, I wonder what else have I not come across? I know how the US version of Life on Mars ends (but since neither my wife nor I have finished watching the second half of the season, I’ll refrain from saying what it is), but what about the shows I’m behind on?

Smallville, of course, always has at least a couple hallucination episodes a season – and more now that they’ve been struggling to find stories in Metropolis, a task that doesn’t actually sound very hard – but will Prison Break get all wonky during its final five-episode run that’s sitting on my DVR? (Michael does have major brain shenanigans last time I checked, so this has potential.)

Does Lie to Me, which we’ve DVRed but haven’t touched yet, turn everything on its head by revealing that Tim Roth is just a figment of our imagination? (Considering he’s been both a futuristic ape and Abomination in The Incredible Hulk, this could be a possibility.)

Is Reaper going to turn out to be an extremely vivid dream concocted by Sock during a very long nap at the Work Bench? Will that explain Andi losing her personality this season?

Is that missing episode of Sit Down, Shut Up an apology to the idiots who didn’t find it funny and complained about the intentionally awkward animation-on-top-of-real-backgrounds?

Motherfucker! Ugly Betty ended in a hallucination, too! What happened here? Is this a veiled backlash against Obama? Did all the showrunners stop taking their medication?

The only time I can remember even the slightest bit of consistency across certain shows during season finales was May, 1996 (I had to check Wikipedia for the year, but remember everything else about the following without any aid.) For some reason, three major shows in my life decided to kind of lose their minds and go way too dark for my young teenage brain. With Seinfeld, it was Susan, George’s fiancée, dying as a result of toxic envelope glue, and when the main cast stopped by the hospital, they pretty much felt nothing and went to go get some coffee. On Roseanne, Dan breaks his diet and he and Roseanne get into one of the foulest shouting matches I’ve ever seen on a family sitcom, devolving into back-and-forth screams of “Fatty! Fatty! Fatty!” (Let’s not even mention the final season, which was all a dream.) And, finally, Mad About You challenged Paul and Jamie’s marriage when she kissed the man she was campaigning for and Paul lusted after another woman but didn’t do anything, leading to a quiet, disturbing fight.

It just seemed like, for no discernable reason, sitcoms ended that year wanting us to feel like absolute shit. So I ask, does anybody have an explanation for this madness in dear old 2009?

Don’t get me wrong, I thought everything with Dudek was some of the most compelling minutes House has ever had, and even without her, the final mindfuck, while hard to avoid in the press after the fact, was still eerily effective, thanks in no small part to Hugh Laurie’s continued brilliance on this show. Does he still not have an Emmy? (Now that Boston Legal is gone, Spader’s absence in the category will help considerably. That is, if Jon Hamm’s John Ham doesn’t take it, which would not be a bad thing per se.)

On another note, do any of you out there seriously care about Chase and Cameron? At all? Boooooooring. How about hiring another intern. I’m fine with that. Anything to get away from the dour blondes.

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The Wife:

So, apparently, Kal Penn asked to leave House because he’s taking a position in the Obama administration.

Okay.

That’s cool.

However, how does that explain why the writers never figured out how to use Kutner at all in any episode this season? There were several opportunities where they could have explored his background (chiefly, an episode with an adopted patient, like himself), but they chose not to. Thirteen got a beefy story about her Huntington’s and her relationship with Foreman and the drug trials and all that. Taub’s divorce and the reasons he left plastic surgery are constantly brought up, but all we really know of Lawrence Kutner is that his parents were shot to death in front of him, he’s kind of a manchild and is now dead. I’m sorry, House writers, but even knowing that Kal Penn wanted out, this doesn’t excuse your laziness. I mean, shit, at least the folks on Grey’s are giving Katherine Heigl a worthwhile exit.

I guess, at the very least, I no longer have to gripe about how the show has neglected to find ways in which to use Kutner well. I like Kal Penn a lot, and I hope the Obama administration can make better use of him than the folks on House ever did.

I just thought I’d get that out of the way first so you all don’t have to wait for my reaction.

Three random POW storylines lead up to Kutner’s exit: a patient who lacks a social-appropriateness filter that makes him say all kind of things normal humans wouldn’t, a ripped-from-the-headlines story about Judy Greer and that cat that predicts death, and Mos Def starring in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly.

I have the least to say about the funniest of the three, “The Social Contract,” because other than presenting us with a person who is like House because he says what other people won’t, which is inherently amusing, the episode doesn’t have much substance to it other than that, save to set up a Taub arc for the next episode. It seems that the POW’s constant harping on Taub’s giant schnoz is enough to remind Taub of his insecurities and failures, including those in his stock portfolio, which lead him to get swindled by a guy who pretends to be a high school classmate, currently under investigation for defrauding doctors of investment money in new surgical tools. (I mean, really, it was a very well put together scheme.) Thinking he’d reclaim some of the former glory he had in his days as a plastic surgeon, Taub goes full-in on the investment and quits his job with House.

For the last time, I refuse to audition for bloody Cats!

For the last time, I refuse to audition for bloody Cats!

Other than that, the DeathCat episode wasn’t all that awesome, either, probing further into House Hates God territory by pitting him against a patient who at first fakes her symptoms because the DeathCat sat next to her, just as it does to old folks who are headed off to the great beyond in the nursing home where she works. On DeathCat’s advice, though, it’s good that Judy Greer came in because she did actually have a cancer in her appendix. By fearing the DeathCat, she managed to thwart her demise. But, of course, having faith in a cat that “predicts” death simply by following up on its natural instincts is absurd to House. When people are about to die, they’re either cold because their bodies are slowing down, thus they are covered in blankets, or are feverish. Either way, they’re warm. And cats like things that are warm. Maybe there’s something to House’s chastising Kutner in this episode for giving the DeathCat the benefit of the doubt that might have lead to Kutner’s demise. But, then again, you’d think peeing on a chair would be enough to cure a guy of any ill feelings toward mean things their boss has said.

I do like cats, though, so one great thing about the DeathCat episode was how pretty that cat was. She’s way more attractive than the real DeathCat, Oscar. How very Hollywood. (Oscar is cute in his own fluffy buttkins kind of way, though.)

As for “Locked In,” I found this episode to be rather excruciating. I think they chose an appropriate way to tell the story, i.e. the Mos Def voiceover and the Mos Def eye camera, however, that doesn’t mean I liked it. The episode got significantly better for me when Taub, trying to earn a spot on the team again, hooked Mos Def’s brain up to a computer after he loses the ability to blink so that he could move a cursor with his mind to answer yes/no questions. That stuff was way awesome, but the rest of it I just couldn’t get into. Not the voiceover, not the eye camera, not the mindscapes where House, Mos Def and Mos Def’s children all chat together. I did like the shot where the team goes over the place Mos Def had been hiding from his wife when he said he was out of town, though, and the scene transfers all Michel Gondry-like to the factory where he took work as a janitor to make ends meet. That was pretty cool. I will, however, try to avoid getting rat-urine-infected paper cuts, though, because I would prefer to not experience this episode in actuality.

Stupid . . . fucking . . . rat pee . . .

Stupid . . . fucking . . . rat pee . . .

And then there’s Kutner’s suicide, which totally overshadowed the POW and shouldn’t have, because the POW is fucking MEAT LOAF! First of all, I loved that Mr. Aday’s character in this episode was Eddie. Although, sadly, my favorite (s)ex-delivery boy was not riding Harleys and wondering whatever happened to Saturday night, but bed-ridden and dying of a weakened heart. Only, when his wife suddenly falls ill, he starts getting better. Taub is in change of tending to the couple, as House and the others are busy grieving/trying to find answers as to why Kutner would kill himself. While at first Eddie’s wife was faking her illness so that she could hang on to her husband for just a few more days, it turns out that she’s actually sicker than he is and needs a new liver. Because he’s only got a few days left, House asks Cameron to convince Eddie to give his wife his liver and die on the table. Even when Cameron discovers that Eddie can be saved (he has a lung infection that weakened his heart, not cancer, as doctor’s previously surmised), Eddie is ready to die; he’s already grown accustomed to the idea and would rather that his wife survive. I mean, it’s Meat Loaf, all. That dude would do anything for love. But Taub instead reveals the plan to Eddie’s wife, who won’t let her husband die for her, even though he wants to. And it’s for the best, really, because when he got sick, he couldn’t take her to Rio like he’d always promised he would, so she went with another man and developed the tropical infection that’s now killing her because it went undiagnosed for too long. Still, I am a little haunted by the imagine of Eddie, reaching out his left hand to hold his wife as she dies, knowing that he loves her enough to forgive her for seeking comfort when he couldn’t give her any.

I completely understand the decision to pair this set of POWs with Kutner’s death, coloring the entire episode in a very particular noirish shade of grey, and presenting two different ways of dealing with death (Eddie’s acceptance vs. House’s need for answers), but I wish the loveliness of Meat Loaf’s story could have been allowed to stand on its own. It reminded me very much of Baccus and Philemon, a myth about a couple who strove so hard to please the gods that Zeus allowed them to remain together forever, entwined as trees. As Mary Zimmerman summarizes it in her breathtaking theatre piece Metamorphoses, as the two began to change, you could hear them say, “Let me die at the moment my love dies. Let me not outlive my own capacity to love.”

It wouldn’t wholly surprise me if Eddie, after his wife died, willed himself to stop living, too. It would be a fitting end to their conjoined-twin like symbiosis, and woefully romantic.

Like I said, that Meat Loaf, dude will do anything for love.

But I won't do that.

But I won't do that.

The Husband:

Curses, woman! I had to correct your reference to Meat Loaf at least five times! His name isn’t “Meatloaf,” it’s “Meat Loaf,” a nickname (origins debatable) he got because of his first and middle name, “Marvin Lee” (which he randomly changed to “Michael Lee” for no discernable reason.) And she’s not the only one. He just happens to be one of the highest-grossing rock and roll artists of all time!

Nehhhhhh…

As far as the other episodes are concerned (I have nothing to say about Kal Penn’s exit other than it was pretty hasty), I only really had the following thoughts in mind over the run of these middle-of-the-road episodes:

1. It’s good that The Shield veteran Jay Karnes (who played the POW without the politeness filter) wasn’t in the DeathCat episode, or he would have strangled the DeathCat just to get inside the mind of a serial killer.

2. During “Locked In,” my mind wandered for a bit, only to come back into focus minutes later, prompting me to mutter one of the stranger things I’ve said in a good long while: “I’m sorry. What just happened? I was thinking about Sam Shepard.” I have a valid explanation for this train of thought, though, but it would take too long to explain and I have work to do here in the office. But it comes down to the relationship between the Mos Def mindscapes and the second act of Shepard’s play The Late Henry Moss.

3. I wonder what Olivia Wilde is going to look like with her Light Suit on in the upcoming sequel to Tron called Tr2n. (Or as I pronounce it, “Tra-too-en.”)

The Wife:

It’s Dine About Town in San Francisco right now, an awesome event in which a number of restaurants in the city offer $35 prix fixe three-course dinner menus. I held off on watching “Restaurant Wars” on Wednesday because my brain had already exploded from watching Fringe a day late (thanks to a Dine About Town outing) paired with the two-hour Lost-a-thon. Instead, I saved this for last night’s post-Dine About Town viewing. Coming off the high of a $48 prix fixe three-course with two-course wine pairing at One Market, “Restaurant Wars” was pretty disappointing. Food? Boring and safe. Restaurant concepts? Nothing exciting. That whole Hosea and Leah drama? Not dramatic at all. This episode made me long for the days of season three’s Big Gay Dale and his idiotic scented candles, or even for the satisfying teamwork between Blais and Stephanie in executing their really sweet gastropub last season. This episode – and these contestants – really need some spice, and not Hosea and Leah flavored.

Padma announced the Restaurant Wars challenge really early on, tying in the Quickfire to the Elimination Challenge, which I liked. She brought in guest judge Steven Starr of Starr Restaurants, for whom the cheftestants would cook a single dish that would showcase the concept for the restaurant they would like to open. Two winners would be chosen and, rather than giving either of them immunity, they would be chosen to execute their restaurant vision in the Elimination Challenge.


The Quickfire Dishes and Restaurant Concepts

  • Carla: seared cod in tomato oil for a homemade, seasonal New American joint
  • Hosea: shrimp with morels, garlic potato puree and asparagus for a Mediterranean seafood restaurant
  • Leah: tempura poussin with soy sauce and dashi for a blandly described “Asian-inspired” restaurant, in honor of her Filipina mother (a fact I never could have guessed, actually)
  • Stefan: an asparagus trio featuring trout, salad and soup for an Old World Meets New concept
  • Jeff: salmon with sunchoke and artichoke puree and grilled corn for a simple American restaurant
  • Radhika: seared cod with chorizo, creamed corn and spice rub for a global restaurant
  • Jamie: chilean sea bass with grilled corn and cherry tomatoes for a seasonally focused restaurant
  • Fabio: carpaccio, roasted veg and a high-end cheesesteak sandwich for a Mediterranean lunch spot (Fabio would punch me in the face for calling his filet mignon sandwich a cheesesteak, but it was a cheesesteak.)


Rightfully, Steven Starr placed Jeff and Fabio in the bottom two. Jeff’s dish was a little too simple to demonstrate a concept, and Fabio’s was just confusing. I do not understand how the three things he served on his plate went together at all. Starr’s top honors went to Radhika and Leah for their more innovative dishes. Looking at the dishes they prepared, these two deserved the win for the Quickfire, however, I think a better set of winners might have been Jamie and Stefan, whose visions for their restaurants were clear in the dishes they cooked and who, frankly, we all know would have ended up being better leaders. When I heard that Radhika and Leah were given the prize of having their restaurant concepts executed, I knew we were in for a fucking disaster. We’ve never seen either of them step up to the plate (Husband Note: The other kind of plate. Not the kind with noms on it.) and express an opinion before, and I didn’t think they were going to be able to start now.

Radhikas winning dish.

Radhika's winning dish.

Things were looking up for Radhika at the beginning of this challenge. She got first pick of teammates and chose Jamie, Carla (why?) and Jeff. As the team talked out the concept, Radhika immediately had an idea for a name for her restaurant: Sahana, a Sanskrit word meaning strength. I would eat at a place called Sahana. It sounds pretty. In fact, there’s a Middle Eastern place in San Francisco called Saha that must be derived from the same root word. Leah, on the other hand, picked Hosea (natch), Fabio and Stefan, her least favorite person. She had no thoughts on a name. Honestly, if you come in to Top Chef without potential names for restaurants you want to open in the future, you are probably not the right temperament to be on a show called “Top” anything. (Husband Note: Except for Top Stupid! Or Top Bad Chef! Or Top Gun…I mean…what was I talking about?)

Teams were given guestbooks for the evening, which was a nice touch, but definitely took away one major aspect of being a restaurateur, and that is promotion. Remember in season three when whoever played Front of the House had to act partly as a carnival barker to get butts in the seats when the restaurants opened that evening? I guess that wouldn’t quite work in New York to form the challenge that way, but I bet it would have made this challenge a lot more interesting. In addition to the guestbooks, teams were given the remainder of that day to put together and shop for decorations for the restaurant spaces. The following day they would get 3k to spend on food at Restaurant Depot and Whole Foods and 6 hours to prep for service. Restaurant Wars: The 24 Hour Edition.

The design process, which has always been an interesting part of the Restaurant Wars challenge, was also practically absent this season. We saw maybe five minutes of the chefs pulling bronze giraffes off the shelves of Pier 1 and Stefan, remembering Big Gay Dale’s mistake, hoarding all of the unscented candles for his team. But that was it. I once again have to point to Restaurant Wars from Season Three where the chefs were given 24 hours to paint and decorate their small restaurants in that Miami retail mall. Granted, the restaurants failed so spectacularly on their soft open that they were given a second night of “opening night” service, but the amazing thing about that challenge was that in between services, a decor consultant came in and gave the teams some small pointers on how to improve the decor to give the diners a better experience. How a restaurant looks and how it makes its patrons feel is a major part of the dining experience, and I didn’t get any of that this year at all.

Instead, I got Leah and Hosea getting too close, which ended up not affecting them at all on service. Why? Because they’re professionals. If I am to believe Tony Bourdain, a lot of shit goes down after service – and even during service – that certain cooks might not want to tell their significant others about. But even if that happens, when you’re cooking on the line, it doesn’t matter if you’re fucking the pastry chef or the hostess or having a ménage à trois with the garde-mange and the grill station. All you are doing when you are in the kitchen is cooking. So, thanks, Bravo. Nice try. I wish you had decided to show me some poor design choices instead. I am actually longing for scented candle and black table cloth disasters.

Other than that, there were some minor issues in the getting of the food stuffs. Fabio and Leah found that Whole Foods was out of the red snapper they wanted, so they bought black cod instead. Jamie and Jeff had a similar problem at Restaurant Depot when Jamie couldn’t find lamb shanks, but Jeff decided to poke about in the freezer on his own and managed to dig up two boxes. Problem solved.

Leah finally came up with a name for her Asian-inspired restaurant, Sunset Lounge, which is pretty much one of the most horrible names for a restaurant I could think of. (Husband Note: How about Syphilis Tumor Island?) I honestly can’t tell if it sounds more like a bar or a retirement community. Either way, I do not want to eat there. This is another reason I don’t want to eat there:

Sunset Lounge Menu

  • egg roll
  • sashimi two ways
  • short ribs
  • coconut curry bisque
  • seared cod
  • chocolate parfait
  • panna cotta


Will someone please tell me how those desserts complement that menu? And possibly why, for an upscale Asian-inspired restaurant, Leah and her team were unable to come up with a menu more elevated than what you might find at your local Hawaiian barbeque joint? Seriously, all she’s missing is a plate of loco moco and some gravy fries. The only thing Sunset Lounge had going for it, as far as I’m concerned, is the fact that they had Fabio taking on Front of the House. I work in North Beach, a part of San Francisco that has hundreds of restaurants with Fabio-esque men asking you to eat there, and I can tell you that it does not hurt to have a pretty Italian man working in the front of your restaurant.

As far as the food is concerned, I’d rather eat at Sahana:

Sahana Menu

  • curried carrot soup
  • grilled scallop with chickpea cake (Chickpea cakes are all the rage now; I went to two restaurants this week that served them.)
  • braised lamb shank
  • seared snapper
  • baklava and frozen yogurts
  • spiced chocolate cake


During prep, Stefan discovered that his freezer was wonky, so he did what you do when in a bind in the kitchen: you find solutions. Rather than letting his panna cotta go to hell in a handbasket, he started chilling small batches of them in ice-filled pans to get them to cool properly. Carla had a similar problem, but didn’t figure it out until it was too late, forcing her to serve her froyos as froyo soups. Leah, meanwhile, ended up totally destroying her cod fillets because the bones were too delicate and she portioned them before boning them, basically ruining her fish.

As far as service itself was concerned, Fabio rocked it out as Front of the House, being charming and attentive, which are exactly the qualities you need to work front of the house at a restaurant. I think he knew it, too, strutting about in his tight white suit and declaring, in a Team Fabio shirt THAT I NEED while in confessional:


“I run the front of the house. We can serve monkey ass in an empty clam shell and we can still win this one.”


Frankly, I would have liked to see that. It would have made their menu more interesting.

I am so on Team Fabio this year.

I am so on Team Fabio this year.

Radhika, on the other hand, was probably the worst person to play front of the house. She was smart in asking Jamie, who actually runs a kitchen as an executive chef, to be her chef de cuisine and run the kitchen for the night, with Jeff on the line and Carla, the pastry chef, on desserts. But I think Jeff, with his Jesse Spencer good looks, would have been better for Front of the House. All Radhika did all night was wander around nervously, dressed in that lavender grey dress that made her look like a rain cloud, harshing the culinary boner of her entire restaurant. She also didn’t seat people promptly, manage her tables well and spent too much time in the kitchen. I mean, really, Radhika, that dress was pretty, but not on you. When I walk into a global restaurant, I expect one of two things: hostess/front of the house/waitstaff all in uniform trendy black or I expect the hostess/front of the house to be brightly attired, to stand out and to represent the kind of vibe you’ll get from the restaurant. I realize Radhika might not have brought a sari with her (and might not own one at all, though I’m sure she’s been to several traditional Indian weddings in her life), but I wish she had worn something that would have made her look more like the feel of the restaurant. A bright pink dress. A bright green one. Anything bright. Just not that sad grey shift. The sadness of that dress just permeated the place. And Radhika herself was practically grim. Bad news all around.

As far as the food served that night, it was all pretty passable. Leah’s fish for the judges came out undercooked, but the worst part of that wasn’t the undercooking, but the fact that Leah gave up on herself and declared that she didn’t care in front of the rest of her team. Then there was Carla’s dessert disaster of runny unfrozen frozen yogurt. Thankfully, Stefan’s desserts were good. So good, in fact, that the judges decided they were the best part of either restaurant. And for that reason alone, Sunset Lounge was called first to Judges’ Table and was declared the winners. The judges also saw fit to inform Leah that her cod was the worst dish of the entire evening, but Stefan’s desserts and Fabio’s excellent service in the dining room got them the win. I really thought they would give the ultimate win to Fabio, but I guess that’s not fair because it’s not a show about being a great Front of the House, so, instead, Stefan was declared the challenge winner and given a suite of GE appliances just like the ones in the Top Chef kitchen.

I would like Leah to go home as soon as possible, given her incredibly morose tone and lack of confidence. I don’t think she could have sounded any less enthusiastic about herself and her abilities when she answered, though several stutters, that she thought her food that night was pretty good when asked her opinion by the judges. She honestly sounds like she doesn’t want to be there anymore. And that’s fine by me. Go the hell home so I don’t have to see you anymore. In my head, when she’s talking, I imagine that she’s the sad little rolly thing from the Zoloft commercials. She can go hang out the Radhika, the Prozac Rain Cloud and have a miserable ol’ time together. Just get her off my fucking television.

As for the losing Sahana team, the judges identified its two main problems: desserts and service. They grilled Carla about her strange dessert decisions, and she grew bizarrely defensive, shouting things about how even though she knew the yogurts were not good, she served them anyway because making them made her happy and she wanted to send that love out to the dining room. What? What? Excuse me? What? That doesn’t make any sense. Tom mentioned to Radhika that it was part of her job to sell the food from the kitchen and if she knew Carla’s desserts were going awry, she should have cleverly started calling them yogurt soups, thus letting the diners know what to expect and saving the menu item. But Radhika has no leadership skills. She reveals that she basically let her team create the menu and work on their individual portions and that she did nothing early on in service to stop the Carla trainwreck from coming to froyo fruition. This, ultimately, proved tot the judges that Radhika did not have the makings of a Top Chef, and she was told to pack her knives and go.

Hooty-Hoo needs to get hooty-home ASAP, as well. Her and Leah are next on my list of people I hate and want to see leave.

You see how disappointing it is to come home to this miserable episode after a delightful meal at One Market? Filled with golden lentil soup with vadouvan and deconstructed mushroom pot pies and well-paired wines? Do you see?

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