Classic Dishes...

You Donkey

We’re in the fifth go-round of Hell’s Kitchen, right? It seems to me that the show’s been around long enough now to be established.

So why is it that none of these people can, you know, cook? And I’m not talking about highfalutin’ complicated dishes, I’m talking basic staples.

If I’m going to throw myself at the mercy of Chef Ramsay, there are three things I’m damn well going to make sure I know how to do flawlessly before I even fill out the application:

  • Cook perfect scallops
  • Make a risotto
  • Prepare Beef Wellington

Five years in, Chef has those three items on EVERY menu he’s EVER had on the show, and we still have jackbags who can’t pan-fry a freakin’ scallop. Come ON.

Look. If I’m going to be on Survivor, I’m damned well going to make sure I know how to make fire. I’m not going to go on The Amazing Race if I’m agoraphobic, because I know at least one task is going to involve being up really really high. And I’m not going to be on Big Brother unless I know how to jump into a giant salad dressed like a cucumber. (Wait, what?)

(Aside: could that BE a more frightening picture of Julie Chen? And Les Moonves has to hit that. Yikes.)

Now Batting…The Catcher…Seymour…Butts

Apropos of nothing, but I was playing The Bigs on the Xbox tonight ($10 at NewEgg, yo!) and it struck me:

Wouldn’t it be funny as hell if ten or fifteen years down the road, Albert Pujols is being inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame, he takes the podium to deliver his acceptance speech, and says:

“Hah! All these years I’ve fooled every single one of you! It’s a hard ‘J’, morons!”

Public address announcers across the major leagues would be jumping out of second-deck windows. Sportscasters would be slitting their wrists. It’d be awesome.