Top Chef: New York
Well, we've got the winner for Top Chef: New York. But let's face it -- the fact that Hosea took the title is less relevant than how Carla and Stefan lost it. Oh, Carla -- why didn't you stick to YOUR food? Sob!
Top Chef: New York becomes Top Chef: New Orleans, and the Big Easy is a lot more difficult than some chefs anticipated.
The Final Five cook for culinary gods this week on Top Chef: New York, and some of them crack under the pressure. No, really: there's an audible crack, and a digit at an unnatural angle. Ouch!
Hey, chefs! If you're ever invited to a surprisingly luxurious lunch on a show like Top Chef: New York, pay close attention to what you're eating. You have to know it's going to come back and bite you before you've even had time to digest.
Top Chef: New York showed the perils of overconfidence this week. First, it brought back some of the cockier chefs from days of yore (I'm looking at you, Spike!). Then, it showed the consequences of letting arrogance flavor your food. Tasty!
Top Chef: New York contemplates the vital questions of our time: Is it better to have decent food and a lousy host, or a great host and lousy food? Plus, whose bright idea was it to put the introvert in charge of guests?
Given a choice between farm-fresh ingredients and crap in a can, you'd expect a good chef to produce a superior meal with the first one, right? Not on Top Chef: New York. Dishes made with Spam get raves, while those made with fresh lamb are dissed. What's going on?
Top Chef: New York finally complies with Reality Show Law and introduces the Obligatory Acerbic Brit to the judging table. Plus, the cheftestants get to do some judging of their own -- and boy, is THAT going to lead to some uncomfortable conversations back at the house.
Top Chef: New York channeled all the best Christmas specials this week. The Heat Miser took up residence in one of the fridges, prompting all the Cheftestants to pitch in like Peanuts characters around Charlie Brown's pathetic tree. Plus, Tom Colicchio subbed in for the Grinch, carving up the chefs' egos like so much Roast Beast.
