Hell's Kitchen’s second show of the season sees Chef Ramsay reading the riot act to the assembled, berating and reminding them a serious prize is at stake, and he is over the incompetence demonstrated last week.
Gordon Ramsay - - London, England © Photorazzi
There are 14 chefs left competing for one spot as an executive chef at Ramsay's new Los Angeles restaurant. The group has no clear cut leader yet. Too soon.
Culinary boot camp is enacted as the sous chefs of Ramsay, Inc. wake the contestants at the early 5:30am hour. The B Roll shows them all in their underwear - and I am not sure they were aware infrared cameras were filming them as they slept. I didn’t need to see Jason’s balls outlined in his tighty whiteys as he slumbered.
It’s time to make a point; food waste equals profit hemorrhaging for a restaurant.
Ramsay orders them to fish out the wasted prime food from the previous night’s service where first-flamed casualty Dominic chucked 30 beautiful scallops. The refuse is picked out of the plastic bags that had been fermenting all night, smelling to high heaven.
The sight of them rooting in garbage, barefoot was as nauseating as an episode of “Bizarre Foods” when host Andrew Zimmern wolfs down braided cow intestines or munches on a fried cockroach. Seriously, these shows are great for killing any after dinner snacking urges if you’re looking to drop a few.
Lesson learned. Off to the showers, back in the saddle as the chef gives them fish filleting tutorial for Halibut, a ginormous fish.
The teams tie, each cutting 41 portions, the proposed tiebreaker tests their 420 skills, pick the perfect six ounce portion. The elected contestants Ben beats Corey, she was off by over an ounce.
To the victor on Hell’s Kitchen go the spoils: Gordon Ramsay gives his challenge winners a taste of la Dolce Vita; these guys are not worldly, they are blown away by Bently and Rolls Royce chariots that whisk them to the yacht, “Mojo,” where a lobster, caviar and champagne lunch awaited.
Back in the kitchen the women are grousing as they work to prep fish stock (a dirty job) and the night’s fish portion.
With a comment for everything, Jen is a motor-mouth Mabel. The rest of the female crew are mutes in comparison to her and Rosann.
Cue the dramatic music: The bad blood between Jen and Corey - the bad weight guesser - begins.
The following night sees the next dinner service. Petrozza is 47, and he natters. The Hen in a Pumpkin creator has heart, but his constant second guessing and obliviousness to “cram for the exam” sets up the dramatic B Roll of the night, he melts down so badly that the black Gordon Ramsay, Bobby, has to talk him off the ledge.
The camera captures Sharon’s melt down too, her face is sliding off in the steamy kitchen and her tongue cannot stay in her mouth.
Jason of the Tighty Whiteys says that a roomful of girls is completely useless unless they're having a Tupperware party. Producers eat it up when contestants are willing to give completely un PC sound bites.
Ramsay picks two teammates to aid Jean-Philippe as a Maitre D' for the evening. Rosann and Craig are chosen. Craig is so bad he clocks a patron in the head with a carried chair, and nunce Rosann pulls a “Lucy and Ethel in the chocolate factory” moment as she hides tickets so not to “overload” her team with dinner orders! She's hilarious.
The men kick out their appetizers out before the women, but the entrees are where the falling knife moments occur.
After a customer sends raw Halibut - thanks to Jason – back, Ramsay loses his mind and shuts down the kitchen. It’s time for Hell’s Kitchen patrons to hit the In-n-Out Burger at Lankershim on the way home.
Ramsay selects the women's team as losers, and deigns Corey as the best of the worst.
Corey has been boning up on Machiavelli's “The Prince.”
Sharon
The stinker picks Jen and Christina to go. Ramsay has a real business at stake here, he takes the reins and overrides her and sends epicurean blight Sharon packing.
The bad blood between Jen and Corey is now as thick as blood pudding, and hopefully with a little luck, we won’t ever see it served on Hell’s Kitchen.
See you next week, donkeys!
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