Good evening, my little shrimp tacos, and welcome to the conclusion of Hell’s Kitchen! ”Tonight. Is. The night,” said Chef Ramsay at the top of tonight’s episode, immediately evoking memories of my time as a camp counselor, when the owner would begin every session with the same four words, kicking off another two weeks of Tribal Competition. Red vs. Blue! Caddo vs. Osage! The smell of lighter fluid and melodramatic torches on a hot Arkansas night! Wait, where was I?
Ah, yes, I was in hell. Or its kitchen, rather, for the very last time. After a surprisingly restrained intro of only two minutes, they slammed us right into the action on this, ”THE” most important night of Christina and Petrozza’s cooking careers. At the end of last week, both were caught in the web of suckitude woven whenever freakin’ lunatic Matt and raging bitch Jen are on the scene; in the resolution of that surprisingly decent cliff-hanger, Petrozza had first pick between the two disasters, and for reasons that only he can explain, he chose the BBJ. ”I definitely know the reason I was picked second to last is because of how strong of a leader I am, and they don’t want to be outshined in their kitchen,” she said, delusional to the very end. ”Thank God Petrozza took Jen,” Christina said, obviously convinced that through her encouragement, Matt would still be crazy but might actually produce some food.
Back at the dorms, the new teams planned for service. Christina won over a reticent Matty by claiming to have created a risotto station just for him. (”He bought it hook, line, and sinker,” she smiled.) Sadly, there was nothing but villain music playing over on Petrozza’s side, where Bobby expressed reticence about working with Jen. I can’t imagine why. What’s not fun about egotistical glowering? Especially when your head chef has nothing prepped? ”I’m a tiny bit overwhelmed,” said Petrozza. ”Being a prep chef for Petrozza is like people playing the violin when the Titanic was going down,” said the BBJ. Ah, Jen. You have these flashes of brilliance. How great you might have been.
With six hours to go, both restaurants were still under construction, the better to generate false tension with, my dear. Meanwhile, Jen seized this opportunity to ask Chef Ramsay for a letter of recommendation. ”You know, whatever you think honestly of me,” she told him. ”Minus my big mouth.” ”I hate her. I officially hate her,” was all Corey could say from across the way, before turning her attention to Matt, who’d begun singing to the food. ”Christina, for your own safety, you need to tell this guy to get serious,” she said. But Kung Fu Panda was too far gone for that. Meanwhile, Jen had put her career aspirations on hold long enough to turn up the poopy attitude: After Petrozza tossed an extra ”sweetheart” into their request for risotto, she came back with ”My name is Jen, not sweetheart, and it’s a minute and a half.” In case you’re wondering, it was right about now that I sort of stopped caring about tonight’s result, and just wanted the bitch-fest to be over with.
NEXT: Matt attack!