Showing posts with label CJ Jacobson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label CJ Jacobson. Show all posts

Monday, August 18, 2008

New York City Possums: Wanna Have a Ball with CJ Jacobson?




















Well, possums, it is Heterosexual Monday on Amuse-Biatch, and in that spirit, what could be more apropos than free beer and barbecue, music by Islands, and the company of a 6'8", "ungay" former beach volleyball player? Yes, indeed, possums, CJ Jacobson, the cheftestant cum Padma Lakshmi crush object from Top Chef: Miami is joining forces with New York Magazine to host a Highbrow BBQ this coming Saturday, August 23, in New York City (have a look at the flyer below for details). A ticket costs $25, and if you would like to purchase tickets, have a click at www.nymag.com/nyxny.

But...

We have a pair of tickets to give away. So, if you live in New York and are free this Saturday, do throw your hat in the ring.

This being a Highbrow BBQ, we figured we ought to ask a highbrow sort of question. So, what is the name of the cake or cookie that unlocks memory when dipped in tea in Marcel Proust's Remembrance of Things Past? The first person to email us with the correct answer wins the tickets; deadline is 5 p.m. Eastern, tomorrow, Tuesday, August 19. Bonne chance, possums.



Thursday, May 01, 2008

Padma Lakshmi Grateful No Hot Guys on “Top Chef,” Lest She Be Unable to Control Herself

Though it may hurt self-avowed metrosexual and pretty-boy Ryan Scott to hear it, that is indeed what we learned, possums, from Padma Lakshmi's appearance yesterday on the execrable Morning Show with Mike and Juliet. 'Twas a doozy, it was.

It begins with Padma doing shilling so shameless that it hasn't been seen since, well, Top Chef. On the pretext that the blonde hostess has "allergies" (to what? intelligent conversation? self-respect? good clothes?), Padma presents her with a glass of orange juice, which she accompanies with this no-doubt entirely sincere and genuine statement:

These are these new juices from Tropicana, and they’re amazing. They’re like the whole burst of sunshine in your mouth. Aren’t they good? I mean, we’ve all grown up with Tropicana.













Then, as Padma rushes to make "Mexican" cornbread (with that most typical of Mexican ingredients, dill), the most interesting exchange takes places between Padma and hostess Juliet Huddy. Possums, it's all about the mens, and, as with so many of our straight-girl friends, the model of choice seems to be tall and forgettable:

JH: Where are all the hot guys this year?

PL: I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s just as well, ‘cuz I’m not supposed to fraternize with the contestants at all.

JH: Last year, though, that big tall guy…

PL: I know, you have a little crush on Sam. I could tell the last time we were here.

JH: Oh well…But no, there was a big tall guy. What was his name?

PL: Sam.

JH: No, the other guy.

PL: Oh, CJ, CJ, CJ.

JH: So many I can’t keep up.

PL: I know, I know.

And somewhere in the Midwest, CJ Jacobson feels as though he's been kicked in the ball.

Padma then refuses to tell Juliet the outcome of Top Chef, but does drop this hint: "Well, the women are really strong this year, that’s all I can tell you. "

Thanks, Padma.

Then, and only then, are we made privy to Padma's messianic accomplishment as regards this great nation of ours:

Well, I’m happy because I feel like I’ve taught the country what an amuse-bouche is, you know. I go, and I wait for a taxi on the corner, and people say, “Amuse-bouche.” “Amuse-bouche, too, to you, too.”

Quick, someone get her her own quarter coin and a commemorative stamp.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Chicago Gains Another Skyscraper, L.A. Gets Another Douche

Our pal Lesley of Eater LA got it straight from the ungay mouth of the 6'8", one-balled Jolly Green Giant himself: CJ Jacobson is moving to Chicago to help the very gay and two-balled Dale Levitski open up his restaurant, Town and Country.

And because L.A doesn't have enough to worry about with earthquakes, wildfires, and paparazzi, Ilan Hall is moving out here to open a tapas bar on wheels, or a "tapas truck." Forget about the historico-cultural implications of a city ruled by taco trucks, the creole food, being invaded by a tapas truck, fruit of the imperialist colonizers. Instead, ask yourselves, possums, is justice even possible in L.A. when the bacon-wrapped hot dog is illegal, but Ilan Hall's "tapas truck" might be allowed? Somebody call James Ellroy before Ilan rewrites this into L.A. Confideontial. *


*If you still remember that Ilan's dish of fideos from the romantic-dinner-in-Santa-Barbara challenge is still Padma Lakshmi's favorite Top Chef dish of all time, we urge you to step away from the Bravo and get some help.

Sunday, September 30, 2007

Angry Big MFMan Calls Out "Angry Little Man": Who's the Bigger Man?

As you may remember, possums, a debate of culinary-theological import has been raging: Hath Hung a soul or hath he not? Thus far, there has been no Bartolomé de las Casas to plead on his behalf, no Paul III to issue a papal bull declaring he has a soul.

Until now.

All at once, Hung Huynh is neither automaton nor heathen, for none other than Brian MFMalarkey, he of the soul patch, has stepped forward to attest to the existence of Hung's soul.

Hung has a soul, MFMalarkey concedes to Grub Street, but it's a "really young, immature soul. He’s not focused on the right things in life."

(Such as "luxury living," "gold," "diamonds and jewels," and "CA$H money"? Are those "the right things in life"?)

Continuing his disquisition, Brian says, "There’s no point in being an asshole, and that’s how he comes off. When he was watching CJ die cooking at the airport, I was like, 'Hung, help CJ,' and he just sat there and washed his knife, and I was like, 'Oh, you little asshole.' I think he’s an angry little man."

Well, with all that washing, Hung's knife must be shinier than the pot and the kettle, n'est-ce pas?

At any rate, possums, do be sure to read the interview, in which Brian manages the, er, hat trick of being condescending to cowboys ("I didn’t want to scare them with fancy words and chocolate sauce.") and implying Bobby Flay is not "a refined, amazing chef." Well-done and well-braised, possum!

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

A Surprisingly Contrite Hung Huynh (Who Knew Bisexuals Could Feel Remorse?) Disowns Monkey, Looks into CJ Jacobson's Soul and Sees a Loser

It seems, possums, that after the Brian MFMalarkey interview, there is still more delighted squirming to be had, this time from his bisexual little brother, Hung Huynh.

In an interview with The Albany Times-Union, Hung performs an "act" of contrition:

“I regret talking back to Tom Colicchio,” Huynh says, about one of his reactions to criticism. He’d also take back a comment that a rival’s dish was so easy that a “monkey could do it.”

Is Hung disowning his macaque? Say it ain't so! What's a good bisexual villain without his evil anthropomorphic familiar?

“I was a (jerk) at times,” says Huynh, on the telephone from his job as executive sous chef at Restaurant Guy Savoy in Las Vegas....Huynh says, “I was an exaggerated version of myself on TV, as a strategy. … If they were worrying whether I was being a (jerk), they weren’t concentrating on their cooking. I knew none of those guys could outcook me.”

Aw, possums, isn't it sweet that a newspaper can't bring itself to print the words "asshole" or "shit"? "But wait," said Miss XaXa, "does this mean Hung isn't really a certified professional asshole, that it was all an act?"

"Possum," we gravely replied, our forced insouciance masking a gimlet-eyed, vodka-gimlet-soaked lifetime of experience, "he's a bisexual. They're always pretending to be something they're not."

Lest we lose hope entirely, though, Hung comes back with a last Gong Li stab:

He says he does not dislike his fellow contestants – but then mentions C.J. Jacobsen, a 6-foot-10 Californian who has been trashing Huynh in inteviews. Huynh dispatches Jacobsen with a comment as sharp as a knife blade: “C.J. … has been saying that my food is soulless. Well, his food had so much soul that it couldn’t keep him here (on the show). I’m still standing.”

Um, first of all, it's JacobsOn. Second, he's 6'8". Third, meeeeow!

But might the bisexual bitchery have an explanation, a narrative that could be used as fodder by Top Chef's editors? We think so.

Today's Union-Times article tells us:

He grew up in Pittsfield, Mass., where his mother, Tran Thuong, has long owned the eatery in which he learned to cook, Kim’s Dragon Restaurat. His 33-year-old brother, Huy, is now the chef there.

And you'll find Hung saying tonight that he owes everything to his mother, and that he didn't see his father until Hung was nine years old, because of the aftermath of the Vietnam War.

When we did a little digging earlier, we came across a little something that we knew would be useful for the armchair psychologist. It's from a 2005 article in The Berkshire Eagle:

Fans of Kim's Dragon Restaurant on West Housatonic Street were quite upset when the place closed a year ago after an oil tanker and dump truck collided in front of the restaurant, spilling thousands of gallons of oil into the parking lot.

Legal battles and the subsequent poor health of the owner's wife (the sole chef), left everyone guessing as to whether it would ever reopen.

Happily, it has. Huy Van Huynh, son of the eponymous Kim, has taken over the helm and is now, literally, chief cook and bottle washer.

He refers to himself as just a puppet and a slave to his mother's recipes, but is really is more than that.

"My mom tells me what to do and I do it," he says. "I can't argue with the old school. And she's getting old now, about 62!"

While his father, Kim van Huynh, is off enjoying the warmer climes of Florida, his mother has remained here and, when feeling well enough, still helps in the kitchen.

When asked if he misses his father, Huy replies, "Everything but his yelling."

"So," said we to ourselves, stroking a Herrdoktor's goatee, "Hung has a very close relationship with his mother, and an absent father who yells. Very interesting. That would explain a lot in a cheap psychological way, nein?"

And then there was the tragedy of the oil spill on the restaurant, a tasty little narrative morsel. If Hung doesn't get kicked off tonight (as some conspiracy theorists are predicting), this will be the strain of sympathy used to make him a palatable winner. Mark our words.

Out of the MFMouths of...: Brian MFMalarkey Refuses to Be Your Kid-Tested, Homo-Approved Pawn!

Sometimes, possums, even we are taken aback at the sheer deliciousness of certain statements made by cheftestants. We practically squirm with delight.

We don't mind confessing, then, that there was a good deal of delighted squirming when we came across this interview with Brian MFMalarkey. Herewith, the tastiest, squirmiest bits:

* "I was apprehensive about doing the show," Brian said. "First it was a challenge of if I was going to get on the show... Once I got on I really had to think, 'Do I want to do this?'"

"I called up the day before I was going to ship out and said no... I don’t want to be edited. I don’t want to be your pawn... I was really nervous about the whole process," Brian added.


[MFMalarkey showing signs of being confused and "undecided"? Color us shocked.]

* Brian, who said he's very popular with kids, older ladies, and the gay community, had a feeling from the start that he'd make it to the final four.

["Wait a minute," said Miss XaXa. "Wasn't Liberace the last man to be very popular with kids, older ladies, and the gay community?"]

* Either way, Brian said he was confident he'd make it to the final four because he has a lot of diversity in the kitchen and is quick on his feet.

[Well, possums, let us not be so skeptical about his "diversity." It's true he was ever so devoted to sausage, but sometimes it was fish (seafood) and sometimes it was fowl (pheasant). Being torn between fish and fowl is perfect for MFMalarkey, n'est-ce pas?]

* Why else did Brian have a feeling he'd make it to the final four? "A lot of the challenges don't really come down to the cooking skills, but your charisma..."

["Honey," said Miss XaXa, "your charisma was seriously undermined by the soul patch, the thumb ring and the asshats."]

* All joking aside, while Brian said, "CJ's definitely going to be my best friend that I'll know for a lifetime," he also said he has a "really strong bond" with the other members of the final four... "even Hung."

Even Hung?

"[The viewers] have horrible opinions of him. I was a roommate and kind of a big brother to him. He'd start saying the most ridiculous things, and I'd say, 'Hung, Hung, you're on TV,' and he'd listen to me."


[Frankly, possums, we were shocked--shocked!--by Brian's admissions. The idea that a fratty white beach boy would become best friends with a fratty white beach boy is truly surprising. And the idea of Brian, beloved of the gay community, playing "big brother" to little bisexual Hung, well, it's enough to restore one's faith in humanity. It's a fine example of living up to the ideals of Be Kind to Bisexuals Week.]

Now, a teensy potential spoiler alert pointed out by an astute anonymous Amuse-Biatch commenter. On his blog today, Raggaydy Andy says, "After tonight's episode, I will be live at Bravotv.com for 'Watch What Happens' with one of tonight's eliminated chefs and Gail Simmons - call us live!" MFMalarkey's MySpace page says he's off to New York for his birthday, and his birthday is today. Donc, MFMalarkey is in New York today, and thus going on "Watch What Happens" tonight as one of the eliminated chefs. What a way to spend your (35? 30?) birthday!

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Padma Lakshmi Stalker Alert, Part II: If "Cancer Boy" CJ Jacobson Makes a Wish, Does It Have a Foundation?

Well, possums, it seems Padma Lakshmi's got all the menfolks nuts about her.

First, she was being stalked by a man with huge balls. Holy sagging elephantiasis, possums!

And now, she's being stalked by a man with one ball.

Seemingly the only person in the world who loves the word "wanton" as much as we, CJ Jacobson tells our pally pal Josh at Grub Street, "Did you see the wanton and sad expression Padma had when I walked off stage? She’s running from me now, but..."

However, CJ saved the best of his bitchiness, wantonness, and post coital melancholia for our West Coast pal Lesley at Eater LA:

Did you ever dream you'd make Padma breakfast in the morning?
Yes, I dreamt several times that I would cook her breakfast.

It seemed like you two had a special bond. She practically broke into tears when she told you to pack your knives, and she blurted it out instead dragging it on as she usually does.
Yes, I saw that same wanton look in her eyes.

No, um. Not wanton, sad. She looked sad.
Oh, that was sad? I guess the crying comes after the wanton. She looked way sad, like when someone has to make a tough decision. You do get to know each other well on the show. You bond with the judges as much as anyone else. You know, really, I don't think she liked being in Newark any more than I did.


CJ also tells Lesley about not wanting to be "cancer boy," about Joey Paulino's less-than-stellar pizza, Anne Hathaway's birthday party, and missing the show's g/l/b/t crowd, which was a bit of a surprise, coming, as it did, from Mr. Ungay.

It's That Guy Again
















First, it was this. And now this.

Seriously, it's driving us crazy. Who is this guy, and why is he wearing flipflops? And where are their hands? Is this the mysterious male Shannon that Lee Anne Wong refers to in her blog? Inquiring minds want to know more than ever. (And he does bear a resemblance to CJ Jacobson, so that might explain a lot.)

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Jowly Green Giant CJ Jacobson Takes His Ball and Goes Home
















Oh, come on, possums. As if you all weren't thinking the same thing. At any rate, farewell to the big crawfish, who at last fell awry.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

"Alien v. Predator" Finally Has a Worthy Sequel: Spice Rack to Take On the Jowly Green Giant















That's the scoop that our pal Lesley of Eater LA brings us. On Sunday, October 14, in Los Angeles, California, Betty "Spice Rack" Fraser will go funbags to (smaller) funbag with CJ "Jowly Green Giant" Jacobson in a cook-off.

CJ, possum, you'd best be careful. You may have survived Arianna Huffington, but Spice Rack is a real ball-buster, a giant-killer.

"Hell, she's a man-eater," Miss XaXa concurred. "Just look at that picture. It looks like she's eating CJ's remaining..."

"Now, now," we hastened to interject. And with good reason, for Lesley has another scoop up her sleeve (she could work at Baskin-Robbins). But don't click unless you want to view an extremely plausible spoiler alert about the finale.

For those of you who don't care, go fish.

Friday, August 24, 2007

Jowly Green Giant Killer?: CJ Jacobson Goes One-Ball-to-the-Wall with Fellow Cheftestants

Ah, the Jowly Green Giant, possums. He's tall, 's got one ball, and wants it all, and our pal Lesley at Eater LA finally caught up with him to find out whether he's just a mellow beach boy or really a Machiavellian mastermind.

We've always been of the belief that CJ Jacobson's whole "ungay, laid-back, blond volleyball player from behind the Orange Curtain with the peculiar syntax" persona is merely a smokescreen.

Remember how he was always there as a one-man, monorchid Greek chorus of disapproval and moral rectitude (Sandee didn't barbecue, Dale used mashed potatoes)? And remember how last week at Judges' Table he agreed with Andrea Strong about everything, saying she was on-point about Brian's sweating, etc., and this week told the judges that Tre's bread pudding was boring?

Hmmmmm. Possums, let us not forget the Huffington Past. Yes indeed, he worked as a personal chef for Arianna Huffington (who certainly knows from ungay by now, and ought to have a little talk with Diane Von Furstenberg). Need we say more?

Lesley manages to get deep, John from Cincinnati quotes such as, "You can only judge yourself when times are tough, you know?" but the Jowly Green Giant denies any master plan to cast Tre Wilcox as the executive chef in order to get him kicked off. He also is tickled by the idea that people think he has a "dynamic...character." And then he goes all biatch and condescending on the remaining contestants:

Casey and Brian are coming around, and Dale is surprising me also.

"Coming around"? "Surprising"? Meow! Well, it must be easy to condescend when one is so tall.

Still, when Tre's crawfish fell awry, CJ wasn't there to pick it up. And guest judge Geoffrey Zakarian can't quite overlook that. Talking to our pal Maddy at The Miami Herald, Zakarian had a few choice words for him:

"He had the ability to help out and decided not to. You need someone to watch your team if you're not firing on all pistons, had a fight with your wife or you're hung over, which doesn't happen often. I don't think CJ is a leader. He wouldn't help you over the wall. He'd jump over and say, Call me when you get here. His lobster salad was something you'd throw together at your house in the summertime. You have to be really careful when you dress something, keep tasting it. And if it's too salty, throw it out. It's like he just thought, Well, everybody likes lobster, so I'll do this."

Alas, even our boy Dale didn't escape the Jungle Red-sporting claws of the attired-like-a-yachting-French-gigolo-in-a-stripey-top Zakarian:

"You should always try to dress better than the patrons. I have a real problem with sweating, too. Get a grip. "

Well, we've always thought sweating and getting a grip were incompatible, but no doubt we had a different context in mind. (Wrestling, of course.)

At any rate, we've had Howie sweating, Brian sweating, and now Dale sweating. Perhaps it's time to bring on Right Guard or Degree as a Top Chef sponsor.

(Miss XaXa, of course, has the last word. Reminding us of the adage that "horses sweat, men perspire, and ladies glisten," she wondered which category Howie, Dale and Brian would fall into.)

Monday, August 06, 2007

Jowly Green Giant Wins Frozen-Food Challenge (Natch), Comes Out as One of the Ungay (Snatch)
















Possums, the Ungay--they walk among us.

We learned this from our pal Lesley at Eater LA, who in turn learned it during her exclusive interview with the Jowly Green Giant, CJ Jacobson:

You mentioned that a friend told you someone in a chat room asked if you're gay. They actually said, "So is this tall drink of water gay?"

Those fuckers. I almost have a problem being too ungay.

"Oh no he di'in't," we thought to ourselves.

"Fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood of an insecure man," said Miss XaXa, snapping her fingers in her best RuPaul.

Well, actually, we were confused more than outraged by his statement, so much so that we tried to diagram the sentence on the back of an envelope, just the way Mrs. McDougal taught us when we were wee bairns, new to this country and learning the lingo. All to no avail.

As we have mentioned before, CJ has the most peculiar and interesting syntax and vocabulary, well worthy of study if representative of SoCal surfers and volleyball players, something along the lines of, "The Crawfish Fell Awry: A Study of Fricatives and Metaphors Among the Tribes of Palos Verdes."

But this statement is just a masterpiece. We start with "ungay," and figure he must mean "straight," and then "too"--too straight? Is that possible? And then he has a problem with being too straight? Does that mean being too straight, whatever that means, gets him into trouble? Or does it mean that he has difficulty being too straight? Oh, but wait, there's another modifier. He almost has a problem. So does that mean he is too straight, but doesn't have a problem? It's enough to make Wittgenstein (who was gay) weep and say, "Told you so."

"Please stop; my head hurts," pleaded Miss XaXa. She gets worried when she sees that gleam in our eye, a worry that was not dispelled when we argued that CJ's statement is actually a publicist's goldmine, and that he ought to license it for use by high-profile Hollywood actors, so that when anyone goes asking questions of, oh, say, Tom Cruise, John Travolta, Wentworth Miller, or Jake Gyllenhaal, they can all say, "I almost have a problem being too ungay." It's genius, chloroform in verbal form.

We turned for enlightenment and analgesia to UrbanDictionary.com:

1. Ungay

(or Un-gay) Heterosexual

Don't trust him, after all he's one of the ungay!

2. Ungay

(Pronoun, adj.) equivalent to the words "undead" and "zombie", however, used to describe a zombie which is gay. Also may be used to define a homosexual who has crossed over to the straight world. The word originated one late night at a Dennys in San Diego, 2002, during a topic about independent zombie films.

This town has been overrun by the Ungay! They rose from their graves and started humping everybody!

3. Ungay

To make less gay.
To make straight.

That remake of Straight Up by Halifax is way better than the original. It's ungayed
.

4. Ungay

an action taken by people to try to correct their previous sentences from sounding gay or gayish. often ends up in no avail.
(usually implied in instant messages and chatrooms)

(C and E are guys)
C : why didn't you bring your phone, at least the vibrations will wke you up.
C : *realises and begins process of ungay-ing. oh shit, i mean the vibration in your pocket when you receive messages
E: wtf?


Ok, so CJ's not gay. He's a zombie. Well, that clears things up.

Then we remembered CJ's exchange with Howie on the last episode, where Howie looked like even more of a "douche" (another favorite terms of the PalosVerdians) because he, like, didn't get that, like, OC good ole boy CJ was, like, being sarcastic.

"Well, maybe he was joking," we said to Miss XaXa. "Perhaps we ought to give him the benefit of the doubt."

"As long as we know that we don't want Don't Ask, Don't Tell turning into Don't Ask the Tall."

OK, CJ, so you got the benefit of the doubt. But just in case, the Feather Boa Brigade and the Glitter Squadron are on standby and ready to attack the Beanstalk and the Magic Beans. Ok, Magic Bean.

Friday, July 27, 2007

Dispatches from the Department of the Obvious: Bisexual Villain Hung Huynh Is a Snake and an Airy Fairy

Oh, settle down, possums. It's not a biphobic relapse we're suffering from; it's astrology we're talking about.

As per a fascinating report we happened upon, Hung, who was born on January 25, 1978, is, according to the Chinese zodiac, a Snake. His birthdate also makes him an Aquarius, which is, paradoxically, an Air sign. Hence the "airy fairy" of the headline.

Other revelations? CJ Jacobson is a Rabbit, which means we may have to start calling him Harvey instead of Jowly Green Giant. (Honk if you love Jimmy Stewart movies.)

Brian "Asshat" Malarkey is a Rat, but don't expect us to call him Ratatouille any time soon.

Dale Levitski's an Ox. "Bull!" calls out Miss XaXa, though we can't decide whether she's vehemently disagreeing or merely purring a corrective.

Fittingly, Howie is a Dog and Joey is a Rabbit. "Down the Rabbithole," sasses Miss XaXa.

Unsurprisingly, Tom is a Tiger (and Bear, oh my!).

But the most interesting thing of all is that Gail Simmons is a Blank. According to the website, it's "impossible to find birth info for Gail Simmons, the JD Salinger of the table." And that, we think, is the best title ever.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Jowly Green Giant: "Top Chef" Left Me with Body-Image Issues!

Well, possums, Lesley of Eater LA has scored another coup, an interview with CJ Jacobson, the Jowly Green Giant himself, in which he dishes about the lasting body-image issues left by Top Chef:

"...And they make me look really huge on the show. I mean, I get it, I'm a tall guy. But I'm always standing next to Hung or Howie, the shortist [sic]people in the room. It made me completely reassess how I see myself."

CJ also tells Lesley that Howie Kleinberg might have been fired, discusses Hung Huynh's "assness" (we continue to marvel at what a linguistic treasure CJ is), and notes that Hung, who said some bitchy things about CJ, could simultaneously be "a dick" and "an ass," which led Miss XaXa to wonder, "Is that an elegant way of saying Hung can go fuck himself?"

Friday, July 20, 2007

Lilliputz Takes On the Jowly Green Giant

Possums, as you know, we have yawned and scoffed at attempts by diminutive, eyebrow-plucking, wannabe-Puerto Rican cheftestant Hung Huynh to turn himself into the show's great Gay Villain.

His attempts at cattiness are so rarely successful that we were genuinely thrilled when we read the interview that the intrepid Lesley of Eater LA conducted with Hung, in which the Lilliputz took on the Jowly Green Giant himself, CJ Jacobson:

When we talked to CJ, without naming names he said the most difficult personality to deal with was "the one-dimensional, self-centered person who didn't have a life outside of food."
It's not my hobby, it's my life. That's why he doesn't have a job right now. This is my job. This is what I enjoy doing. He can't hack it in the real world.


Well done, Lilliputz! Meow! Especially considering that the unemployed, 6'8" former volleyball player could easily pick you up and punt you over the net.

In other examples of serviceable cattiness, Lilliputz called guest judge Maria Frumkin "a loser. Who is she, a replacement? A fill in?", dubbed Joey Pickles the real asshole ("You can see in his eyes that it's real negative energy. "), and more or less called Marcel a coward.

Gong Li would be proud, possum. We are just left with one lingering doubt: should it be "Lilliputz" or "Huynhnm"?

Monday, July 09, 2007

First Reaction, Part 3: Discomfort Food

Now comes the much-hyped hot tub scene, which is remarkable mainly because Brian “Asshat” Malarkey actually gets into the hot tub without his hat. We’re shocked. As it is, we sort of envision his headgear as a kind of talking, Harry Potter-style Sorting Hat, whispering into Brian’s ear, “You’re so money, baby,” and we can only imagine the distress at their parting. After all, what’s an Asshat without his hat? Merely an ass. In a brilliant example of Bravo Foreshadowing™, Asshat jokes how it’s all fun and games until you’re before Colicchio during Judges’ Table. Cue Bernard Herrmann.

It’s the next day, and everyone is at the Elks Lodge. Tom is doing his troop inspection, during which he learns that Camille loves “chuna.” We remain fascinated with her speech patterns, the way she speaks…so…slowly, and the way she pronounces her “t”s. We still remember how, during one Quickfire Challenge, she talked about how she loves to flavor things with “cheese,” only to realize, as she kept talking, that she meant “teas.” We’ll get to our fascination with her eyebrows in a different post.

CJ mangles yet another French word in this episode. Having set him straight on “froots de mare,” we feel compelled gently to point out that “tuile” is pronounced “tweel,” not “twill.”

Sara and her chicken à la king are joined by Howie at the oven, and we clearly hear her ask Howie to “turn it up to 300 for [her].” She returns later to find that the oven is on cool-down. Hung tells the camera that he turned the oven off after his chickens finished roasting, but he tells her that he didn’t turn anything off. It’s a fabulous, eyebrow-plucking, Gong Li move, but be careful, Hung, lest someday the chickens à la king come home to roast.

CJ confesses that he is struggling. He is having difficulty plating his dish, which repeatedly crumbles: “I know it’s not going to totally stay up; it’s not going to stay all erect.”

Of course, we chortle, as Bravo no doubt intends us to, but then we wonder whether it is right for Bravo (and us) to make erectile dysfunction jokes about a man with a Neuticle.

And Miss XaXa reminds us that there was female imagery as well: “My sauce broke” and “When I added the tuna, it leaked out all its juices.”

He greets the judges (Alfred Portale, Tom Colicchio, Ted Allen, and Padma, Lady Rushdie) thus: “Hello, chefs and Padma.” There’s something quite right and quite droll about this, everything in its place; Ted can be a chef, but Padma can’t. And then he mispronounces “tuile” again. Ted pronounces CJ’s dish “very grassy, green,” which prompts Miss XaXa to yell, her eyes atwinkle, “Of course! Jowly Green Giant, that’s what we’ll call him.”

The other chefs present their dishes, and then it’s Micah’s turn. In introducing her meatloaf, she notes, “I know Americans like to put ketchup on…” and Alfred Portale and his slender-fingered musician’s hands, crossed across his chest, are not pleased with what he terms “a little attitude.” Verdict: “It’s terrible.”

Asshat—did he think the old folks would look kindly on the retro chapeau?—presents a lobster dish, but, surprisingly, no cutesy name for it.

And we’re back at Judges’ Table, where Ted Allen describes CJ’s dish as a “big, green blob.” Ho, ho, ho, Green Giant indeed. Tom torpedoes Micah’s dish as “the meatloaf that keeps giving.”

“Like herpes,” Miss XaXa chimed in.

The two favorite dishes are Howie’s and Dale’s. Having been in the bottom, and now in the top, Miss XaXa points out, makes Dale officially versatile. Good news, Gays. Nonetheless, the dead father narrative arc wins out, and Howie is the victor of the challenge.

There are five people in the bottom this time around, Micah, Sara, CJ, Lia and Brian. Fittingly enough, with five people and CJ standing right in the center, it looks like a giant middle finger being given to the judges.

The Bravo Foreshadowing™ is justified by Asshat’s presence in the bottom five, despite having immunity, and by the dressing down Tom gives him: “You’re gonna have to start looking at meat at some point.” Asshat resists the obvious comeback, as do we. It was all fun and games and stupid hats, wasn’t it, until he was indeed in front of Colicchio. Asshat silently swears (we surmise) never again to joke in the hot tub.

The U.S. citizen who went to middle school and high school in Massachusetts and who admitted in an interview to having made turkey meat loaf for her clients pretends never to have seen meatloaf before: “They showed it to me yesterday and it was just a round of ground beef and brown gravy.”

Sara also tries the foreigner defense for not being familiar with American comfort food: “I’m from Jamaica.” Ahem. Why, then, didn’t she pick the fried chicken and macaroni cheese when she had the chance, since, as she told the Jamaica Gleaner News, “Both my grandmothers were excellent cooks. One was a very rustic cook. She was from the Turks and Caicos Islands, so she cooked macaroni and cheese and fricassee chicken and all that good stuff”? In other words, she knew how to cook mac ‘n’ cheese and all that good stuff. Indeed, as the paper points out, “[s]he started out making French toast and muffins for her family as a four-year-old.”

Portale tells CJ that his dish was “so green, so green that it was frightening.” Yup, Jowly Green Giant is definitely sticking.

Lia is chided for not doing enough, which prompts her to utter the immortal line, “I guess I didn’t really understand how complex franks and beans are.” Honey, welcome to Gender Studies 101. FTMs across the land salute you.

There’s a commercial break, and then Bravo is about to announce the results of the phone poll as to whether Joey or Howie is the better cook, but not before showing Padma spanking Tom with what looks like a wooden spoon. “Oh my,” says Miss XaXa. We’ve got it taped, but if anyone has a screencap, we’d be mighty grateful.

In the end, Fauxmicah is pykagged and, rednosed and crying, manages to stir the depths of Jamie Lee Curtis’ soul in a New York bar.

And so it goes, possums.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

It's the Day After, and Amuse-Biatch Is Still Looking for Fireworks

Possums, do forgive our late start today (something to do with the powerful combination of Roman candles and sangria), but while we rouse ourselves, we wanted to solicit your help (though not for hair of the dog).

As you are all-too aware, the Wayward & Biatchstein investigation into Fauxmicah's meatloaf-less past was split wide open by our very own Deep Throat, a faithful Amuse-Biatch reader with a yearbook and a scanner.

In that spirit, we would like to ask any of you who might have gone to school with any of the cheftestants this season (and who have the pictorial evidence thereof), to drop us a line with the relevant evidence. Mind you, we're not looking for scandal (though if you have stories about how, for example, CJ Jacobson tattled on people during Home Ec class or Casey Thompson failed to win the Miss Sweet Potato crown, we'd love to hear them); we're just looking for mullets, braces and zits, Who They Were Before They Became for Jamie Lee Curtis the Symbol of All That Is Wrong in America.

So, possums, if you fancy being our very own little Sore Throat (Miss XaXa feels it's more dignified, and yet dirtier, than Deep Throat), we'll be sitting by our inbox nursing a Bloody Mary.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

First Reaction, Part I: Dick Around the Conch Tonight (Apologies to Bill Haley and the Comets)














Oh possums, never, not even during the run of “Sprockets” on Saturday Night Live, have we wanted to touch anyone’s monkey less, and yet, following this week’s episode (which we have subtitled, “Elks and Whelks”), Hung Huynh’s monkey is all we can think about. As Miss XaXa put it, “Is it a rhesus piece or is it a macock?”

And yet, it was in part thanks to his monkey that Hung made another stab at transforming into Hatsuhomo, demonstrating that he’s still in the running towards becoming America’s Next Top Potentially Gaysian Villain. (This made up somewhat for last week’s performance, where the self-anointed CPA, Certified Professional Asshole, acted more a like a real CPA and less like a real asshole as he helped Sara Nguyen figure out that 20 times 10 equals 200, and that she was using up her whole budget on meat, thus helping her into the top three during the Elimination Challenge.)

As Hatsuhomo, Hung finally answered the question, What Would Gong Li Do?

Well, for starters, how about hogging shellfish, leaving defenseless crayfish to die on the floor, turning off ovens, referencing your monkey, and dissing Beard Award-winning chef Alfred Portale as not getting the concept? In fact, as we learned, it takes big croutons to mock Alfred “Master Chef of the World” Portale.

We were introduced to Chef Portale during the Quickfire Challenge, announced by Padma as “catch and cook,” which unforgivably reminded us of that horrible Jennifer Garner movie. (We were extremely impressed by the flourish with which Lady Rushdie pulled the cover from the fish tank holding the live seafood; it suggests a history, or a future, in game shows and magic acts.) Upon seeing Chef Portale, we thought he looked vaguely familiar. “Doesn’t he look like Adam West’s gay, nerdy accountant brother?” we asked hesitantly. “Gayer than the original Batman?” scoffed Miss XaXa. “I don't think so. Besides, Alfred was the butler on Batman. Try Stanley Tucci in The Devil Wears Prada.” Why, of course!

Joey Pickles helpfully informs us that Chef Portale is known for his plating techniques, and references the Sistine Chapel, making this the second Michelangelo reference of the season. Given what happened to Micah, the first person to reference the old sonnet-penning, marmoreal poofter, we wonder about Joey’s fate in the next two weeks. Is there, as Carrie Bradshaw might type on a PowerBook filling the screen, a Michelangelo curse? (“Make that a Micahlangelo curse,” suggested Miss XaXa.)

The contestants had mere seconds to scoop up shellfish from the tank with a net. Hung went first (though we’re not quite sure why; is it because he won the last Quickfire?; if so, how was the rest of the order determined?), and demonstrated a thing or two about Vietnamese fishermen. Even Sara Nguyen was forced to say, “Save some for the rest of us.”

A crayfish plunged to the ground from Hung’s heaping bowl, or, as CJ puts it, the “crawfish falls awry.” (He’s got the oddest locutions; is it an Orange County thing? Linguists of the world, get to it.) Mr. “How You Walk, How You Talk, How You Approach the Ingredient Tells Me Who You Are” apparently doesn’t believe in the five-second rule, and, in a move designed to endear him to PETA, leaves the wee beastie gasping for air, shell(fish)-shocking and awing the other cheftestants. Hasn’t he ever seen The Little Mermaid, or Finding Nemo? Doesn’t he know? It’s the perfect Hatsuhomo move, demonstrating his contempt for crustacean life to his competitors (Hung the Merciless!) and creating a potential slip-and-fall, premises-liability issue to wipe one of them out. He’s almost like a villain in one of those godforsaken Jackie Chan-Chris Tucker movies.

Invisible Gay Dale Levitski takes off his Invisibility Cloak, giving us the best line of the night, “I don’t really have time to dick around with a conch,” which sounds better and gayer with a Chicago accent. Indeed, it almost sounds like his coming-out statement, or, as Kanye West might have put it, “I ain’t saying he a conch-dicker, but I never seen him with no clam-digger.”

“Actually,” Miss XaXa reminded us, “clam-diggers are all he seems to wear in the kitchen.” Well, we’ve never let truth stand in the way of a bad Kanye West pun.

Hatsuhomo dismisses his competitors for mixing shellfish with white wine because “my monkey can do that.” We can’t decide if this is of the “Aw, snap” or “Meow” variety. In any event, Hung still has a ways to go in the “cutting remarks” department of Gay Villainy. Where, oh where, is George Sanders when you need him?

Pretentiously-behatted, alliteration-and-assonance-addicted poseur Brian Malarkey tells us that he had better win this seafood Quickfire, since he works in a seafood restaurant. If he didn’t win, his employers would fire him and his whole world might dissolve. “Actually, Brian,” Miss XaXa snarled at the television, “my whole world might dissolve if you don’t take off that fucking hat. Asshat! You’re losing your hair, deal with it.”

Howie, who’s got the cockteasing Bravo Redemption Edit™, makes ceviche, and, since this is a Quickfire, speeds the “cooking” of the seafood in citrus juice by adding salty sweat dripping from the end of his nose to the dish. CJ serves “fruits de mer,” which he pronounces as “froots de mare,” which in turn positively gave us the vapors. CJ, possum, it’s pronounced “FROO-EE,” like “Phooey” with an “r”; hell, you could even get away with pronouncing it “free.” But “froots”? Froots?!? We sat there clutching and kneading an antimacassar for a good five minutes before we calmed down. We won’t go so far as to say that if you can’t pronounce the name of the dish, you probably can’t cook it, but we do say, If you can’t pronounce the name of the dish, why don’t you just call it what it is, e.g., “assortment of shellfish”?

In the end, though, Asshat, his soul patch, liberal use of white wine, and his fucking habit of giving cutesy names to everything (“eyes with fries,” “medusa,” “electric venom soup,” “tres rios” [WTF?]) prove too powerful, and he and Hung’s white-wine-addled monkey win the Quickfire Challenge, which, though it makes our world dissolve, grants him, alas, immunity from elimination.