Is tonight the finale of Top Chef? I think it is. I’ve watched every episode this season alongside my hetero-lifemate Nate, and we’re torn between rooting for Paul the Filipino (at least I think he’s Filipino? Or was that Ed? I know one was Korean and one was Filipino…) and Lindsay, the cute little blonde who works for Michelle Bernstein in Florida. Paul seems to be far-and-away the best chef in the competition, but being men we both enjoy hearing Lindsay’s adorable accent.
We’re also in the minority, apparently, because we enjoyed the Pee Wee Herman episode. Especially the Quick Fire Challenge with his “I have to say, this is the best pancake I’ve ever had” gag. Repetition is funny, people!
Repetition is funny, people!
Completely lost amid the talented chefs and annoying travel arrangements in and around Texas, is that chubby little guest judge Gail Simmons. She’s split time this season with a really arrogant guy who I want to strangle. I don’t mind her sparse appearances because I’d much rather listen to what Tom or Padma or some big-time chef has to say about the food. Plus, Gail’s gotten fat. There’s no denying that now. So instead of being a fiery little hottie with great tits she’s just a frumpy Canadian woman with a yenta’s voice. I can’t believe I ever fake stalked her.
Huffington Post, something I don’t ordinarily read, asked Gail to keep a diary during the busy week before her book launch. Which means I guess Gail wrote a book. Called “Talking With My Mouth Full.” Yet another unattractive quality. Put down the fork, Gail.
Some of the highlights from Gail’s diary:
Monday, 8am: “Getting over a cold so didn’t sleep so well last night. Need a hearty breakfast. I make hot oatmeal with shredded coconut and maple syrup.” – Already this sounds like the most pretentious diary I’ve ever read. I’d rather read Anne Frank’s diary. When I have a cold I can’t be bothered to prepare elaborate breakfasts like you, Gail, so I grab a latte and a breakfast bar and that’s it. We don’t all have time to labor over pots and pans on stovetops when we’re sick. Shut up about your oatmeal.
Monday, 7:30pm: “Knicks Game at Madison Square Garden!!! … Jeremy Lin kills is. Knicks win against the Utah Jazz 99 to 88. Lin scored 28 points. Move over Manning, NYC has a new hero. Hooray!” – Really? Your’e going to write that a kid who’s played ten basketball games — during the regular season — is a bigger hero than the quarterback who beat the Patriots twice to win two Super Bowls? Stick to cooking competition, babe. You know nothing of sports.
Tuesday, 2pm: “Allison and I work on updating my Google+ page. I can admit that I have been slow to most social media. I mastered Twitter early on, but really don’t spend enough time on Facebook and the rest.” – Oh, you mastered Twitter alright. Enough to block me from following both “professionally” (don’t bother, I don’t update it) and personally (bother, I update it!). Well played, Gail. But little did you know that in return I blocked you from following me! Good luck staying informed when it comes to the hustle and bustle of my life!
Wednesday, 9:30am: “We eat bagels and cream cheese…” – Ugh. Could you be a more repulsive cow? Cream Cheese? Gross. Eat your bagel like a real Jew: smothered in self-loathing.
Thursday, 7pm: “Time for the gym. A necessary evil. I got to the YMCA. It’s for EVERY BODY.” – First of all, considering the amount of food you cram in your nog hole, you should be working out more than once a week for an hour. This is why you’ve put on so much weight since Top Chef started. And what’s with the weird cryptic capitalization of “EVERY BODY”? Are there tons of gyms in New York that deny access to certain people or body types?
Friday, 11:30am: “…early lunch at Buvette in the West Village. I have been wanting to go here for so long and have heard so many great things. It lives up to the expectations. I have a Croque Madame with mushrooms and spinach, an extra-large latte, and a glass of blood-orange juice.” – Way to put that gym visit to the test, Gail. Ever heard of egg whites? Maybe with more vegetables than ham and bread? No? Okay…
Friday, 8:30pm: “Date night with Jeremy! We go to Hangawi in Koreatown, one of my favorite restaurants. It’s vegetarian and the menu is vast, with so many delicious choices. Korean food is so spicy and satisfying. We order kimchee, mushroom and leek pancakes, the Hangawi salad, a tofu hotpot with ginger, the kimchee brown rice bowl, and extra spicy rice cakes with vegetables.” – All due respect to New York, Los Angeles has the best Korean food in America. And what’s with the order? No Bibimbap? You do realize that ‘bap is the one of the greatest Korean culinary innovations ever, right? And why would you go for Korean food if it’s vegetarian? No Galbi? No Bulgogi? I mean, those are only some of the tastiest dishes in the entire world. Enjoy your rice cakes.
Saturday, 1pm to 8:30pm: “I need to find some clothes for my upcoming book tour…We find one thing but I am not totally satisfied…The gym. Again. In a cab on the way to a friend’s birthday party in Nolita I learn that Witney Houston has died! And I will ALWAYS love you. Period.” – Let me see if I follow this chain of events properly. You went out for a breakfast/brunch and ate dumplings, steamed pork buns, egg rolls with pastrami, spring rolls, Kung Pao chicken, pineapple and arugula salad…and then you went dress shopping? That sounds like a recipe for disaster. Oh well, at least you made it to the gym for another hour of exercise so you can shovel a few thousand more calories into your mouth. And then you got your period? Are you seriously telling us about your menstruation cycle? I’m pretty sure this isn’t supposed to be that kind of diary.
Sunday, 1pm-6pm: “I take the F Train to Cobble Hill, Brooklyn to cook a long boozy meal with [insert names of media bigwigs and their vanity-project children with names like Rainen and Sabine]. Nilou brings a fantastic Iranian potato and egg pancake called Koo Koo, we grill three huge rib eyes, stew Turkish lentils with lots of garlic, cumin and dried spearmint, toss up a arugula & tomato salad, a few fried eggs for the kids, grilled zucchini, roasted cauliflower. All while guzzling bottles of Lambrusco and Brooklyn Local 1 ale.” – Sounds like the worst lunch I’ve never attended. My favorite part was when Nilou showed up with the Koo Koo! And did you really “stumble home happy and full”? All the way from Cobble Hill to Chelsea? That’s one long stumble.
Sunday, 7pm: “I signed up for a SoulCycle class three days ago and now I have to go.” – Odd, you didn’t put that in your diary three days ago. Did you really go SoulCycling? Or is this one of those things fat girls say to make us think they work out three time a week? I’m sure in reality you’re just sitting around watching the Grammy’s and eating ice cream while wondering what it’d be like to look thinner. Enjoy the book release Gail. Keep on keepin’ on. I’ll write you again the next time you do something embarrassingly self-aggrandizing that warrants my attention.
Pallbearer – Gloomy Sunday (Billie Holiday) [MP3]
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