You poor, poor man.
You really got shafted, didn't ya?
Really, to be a big boy and to be stuck with a name like Hefter. It's awful when you think about it. Sort of like Rachael Ray plugging Heifer International. Worthy but...unfortunate.
And then to get stuck as guest judge on the episode where the tears and f-bombs flew. We feel for you. You got barely a passing mention. No acknowledgment that you're the genius behind the renaissance of Spago while Wolfgang Puck is off gallivanting around, cultivating his Austrian accent, tending to his Oscar catering, and getting his face on frozen food packaging.
Your tasting menus are legendary, and as Jonathan Gold noted last week in the LA Weekly, your influence is all over Puck's latest, the haute steakhouse Cut. And still that mixologist lady in the Quickfire Challenge, the one with the bazooms, got a bigger build-up (if not a bigger build) than you.
And then to be fodder for all sorts of Tom Colicchio MaxiMe/ MiniMe/ Replicant/ Doppelganger jokes. It's terrible.
All we can offer in the way of advice is this: Think about a two-button jacket; the deeper V is infinitely more slimming. (We confess that we are grateful for, and relieved by, your example, and that of Tom Colicchio and Domenico Dolce; we now know that when we turn 40 we must shave our head and start wearing jeans with a black two-button jacket; it's so comforting to know one's future.) Oh, and another way to look slimmer. Don't stand next to a scrawny bitch in a mustard-colored dress.