We got a glimpse at the menus: Christina had some ''delicious'' sliders that needed sexing up, her ''signature'' strip steak 'n' succotash, and a ''fantastic'' tropical sundae. In general, Ramsay appreciated her food, encouraging her to ''go the extra mile.'' But Christina, wisely, had put together a menu that it would be very hard for her team to screw up, albeit a not-very-glamorous one. Petrozza, on the other hand, started with lobster strudel, which Ramsay found a bit ''curdled,'' then added his ''signature'' filet mignon — this time with caramelized risotto! — and a soufflé with whiskey crème anglaise, whatever the hell that is. [Thanks for the fact check, reader Lajean.] Ramsay deemed the menu as a whole ''brave'' and ''dangerous,'' then started doing his annual impression of the late, great Steve Irwin, if Steve Irwin had spent his life trapped in a cooking reality show.
The dining rooms were finally ready, and it was time to open Hell's Kitchen for the final service: Christina's comfy L.A. bistro versus Petrozza's rustic ladies' department-store bathroom, er, Hamptons-style club room. Both chefs called out their first orders nicely — those acting lessons a couple weeks ago really paid off! — but while Christina's apps made it out of the gate, Bobby was left rearranging Petrozza's stuffed intestines, er, lobster strudels on their plates only to bring them to the pass cold. This provoked what I consider to be possibly the greatest comment in the history of this show, if only for what I get to say after it. ''Stick your finger in everything!'' yelled Petrozza. ''Touch everything! Taste everything!'' All together now: That's what she said.
Soon enough, however, Bobby got the strudel sorted, just in time for Christina's side to get backed up. Why? Simple. ''Matt sucks,'' said Louross. And suck he did, incapable of making even salad. He also could not sufficiently cook a monkfish, which he brought up to the pass raw, raw, raw. (Unlike the steak that came back from the dining room, which was just ''lukewarmish.'') Both Ramsay and Christina yelled at Matt, and he decided this was the right time to start telling people to shut up. For example: ''How can you do that to her?'' Ramsay wailed. ''Shut up already,'' Matt responded. ''Concentrate!'' hollered Louross. ''Oh s---,'' I wrote in my notebook. Sadly, this was all nipped in the bud before Kung Fu Panda could get tossed out on his ass, and mostly just resulted in lots of yelling from Christina. (Yelling at incompetent cooks in hopes of making them cook better = honking in standstill traffic? Discuss.)
But not even the Matt fiasco could match what was happening in Petrozza land: First, the Titanic ran out of ingredients for not one but two of the appetizers, a problem Bobby rectified by coming up with a brilliant plan to make lobster risotto instead. (How ever did he think of that dish, do you suppose? Surely not because it's one of the two things any HK chefling can cook!) (Second thing: Wellington.) (Sort of.) But then the BBJ's bad attitude really kicked into high gear, and she proved incapable of frying a single crunchy onion ring. ''Come on!'' moaned Petrozza. ''Put up a decent onion ring!'' Oh, I could listen to that man say ''onion ring'' all day. I am also fairly certain even I could cook an onion ring sufficiently (maybe even with one arm tied behind my back), and you're talking to a girl who, just this morning, rendered cereal inedible by accidentally pouring cranberry juice in the bowl. (I didn't get much sleep last night. Thanks, obsessive personality that kept me up rearranging commas in a 1,800-word document until 5 a.m.!) Anyway. Ramsay came right out and told Petrozza he had ''one awkward bitch'' in his kitchen, accused Jen of sabotage, and told her there was no need to be ''f---ing disrespectful.'' I for one would pay the Fox Television Broadcasting Network a large sum of money to read any letter of recommendation he'd care to write for that girl.
NEXT: Christina gets a big head
