Amuse-Biatch Kudos: Padma Lakshmi's "Accent Aigu" Situation No Longer "Grave"

We believe in giving credit where credit is due, and so we congratulate Padma on the newest edition of her blog, just published tonight. We've seen nary a typo, and every hyphen appears to be in place. And French or French-derived words even sport their jaunty accents aigus, which positively made us purr. Félicitations! See? Was that really so hard? It's no less than all of us as Bravo viewers and readers deserve, mais quand même, it's nice to see. And so, Amuse-Biatch is standing down for the week.

Fan Mail from Padma Lakshmi??: Better Grande Latte Than Never

Possums, we are taking a moment from our busy careers as baristas at Starbucks (we heard you, lady; your damned Frappuccino is coming right up!) to address you.

We are crying as we write this (we promised ourselves we wouldn’t do this, sniff), so you’ll have to forgive us if your latte tastes a little salty. We’re even a little [sic] to our stomachs. You just can’t imagine what came over us when we received this missive in our mailbox (reproduced in full below):

I was just wondering what kind of satisfaction you derive from taking cheap shots at people who have the guts to put themselves out [sic] into the public eye. I mean, there must be some kind of sad pleasure you derive from berating people with your mean-spirited attacks while you sit in front of your computer screens and televisions night after lonely night [sic]

I guess the old adage is true. "Those that [sic] can't do... [sic] teach." I'll add two more. "Those that [sic] can't make it as writers...[sic] blog" and "Those that [sic] got beat [sic] up in [sic] the playground create a reality television site."

Charlus, at least your partner had the guts to post her picture so her skinny lips and stringy hair can be seen by all. But you didn't even have the balls to do that. And yet you have the audacity to sit back taking pot shots [sic] at people who have a real passion in their lives?

Maybe your true passion is to try and hurt others so you will feel better about yourself. It's a lot easier to do that than to really [sic] extend yourself, isn't it? Now why don't you write about what you do for a living and where you work so we can all examine your life and publicly rip you apart. I doubt it would be very difficult.

Something tells me that a bit of personal scutiny [sic] would cause you to cry and quit your job at Starbucks.

Grow up and take the high road, would 'ya [sic]?

For a split second, our little stainless-steel, walnut-sized hearts stopped. With all the [sics] we had to insert, was it possible that our Padma Lakshmi had written us a fan letter? We have, after all, written more about her than her husband, Salman Rushdie (we don’t actually count The Ground Beneath Her Feet as writing).

And then we saw the signature:

Love, Mom

Oh.

“If that’s your mother,” said Miss XaXa, “no wonder you turned out the way you did.”

“Indeed, darling. We’re quite proud of the family resemblance.”

“But I thought when you were 12 you had her committed to Miss Ernestina Thesiger’s Kozy Asylum for the Kriminally Insane after she made you watch Suddenly, Last Summer and Mommie Dearest in a single weekend?”

“Well, she shouldn't give people ideas. And there was also the business with the stable hand, and the little matter of Papa’s inheritance, but yes. She must have escaped. But how?”

“Maybe she got kriminally kozy with Miss Thesiger?”

We shuddered. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d ever seen her. Mustache above, mustache below. We shouldn’t like to see that snake pit.”

Oh, "Mother," you really do love us. You took time out of your busy, purpose-driven life to read “a reality television site” and write to us because you “love us,” “loathe us,” “think we personify the decline of Western civilization,” “worry about our mental health,” and “want to pray for our immortal souls.” (Isn’t [sic][sic][sic] the Sign of the Beast?)

You know us so well, "Mother," since we were born, as Saint Augustine put it, inter faeces et urinae. And we are ever so glad, Mommie dearest, that we could give you a taste of the “kind of satisfaction…derive[d] from taking cheap shots at people who have the guts to put themselves out [sic] into the public eye,” a little espresso shot (on the house!) of the “sad pleasure…derive[d] from berating people with your mean-spirited attacks while you sit in front of your computer screen[….]” And we're disappointed that you didn't send any photographs, "Mother"; we haven't seen you since we were 12, and have but a vague memory of your features.

So, "Mother," you take the high road, and we’ll take the low road, and we’ll be in Scotland afore ye.

And now, back to that Frappuccino.

Padma Lakshmi Continues to Defend Marcel Vigneron; Amuse-Biatch Continues to Defend the English Language

From the last, as-yet-uncorrected portion of Padma Lakshmi's Cogent™ Blog:

We've all had that kid in school who [sic] everyone loved to pick on and I do think somehow this group has decided that he's there [sic] bespectacled Piggy in their Lord of the Flies [sic] scenario. I felt bad for him watching the tape of the show. I saw what he said to Betty and he didn't snap at her, [sic] he just told her to wait firmly enough to get his point across. The voice you hear telling Marcel to "hold up" is the voice of our Assistant Director Sean [sic] who relays when the cameras are ready to film the one and only time that food is served to that bunch of live waiting dinner guests, and if Marcel hadn't waited of [sic] told Betty to wait loud [sic] enough, we would have missed the shot. And Betty and others know that. They just decided that whatever little thing he did was an excuse for them all to behave in that way. Whoever [sic] heard of kitchen folk being that thin-skinned? If you don't like being barked at now and again, you should really get out ot [sic] the kitchen. I do think they're a little frightened of him and his skills, where as [sic] they aren't threatened by, say, Mike -- who [sic] they seem to help along one [sic] more than one occasion. I'm not saying that Marcel is completely innocent, but watching tonight's episode, I was shocked by the level of aggression on everyone's part. I do hope this doesn't continue to be the case. This is supposed to be a professional environment, not one where personal attacks are commonplace.

Poor copy editing skills and grammar aside, we think Padma hit the nail right on the head. We thought it particularly interesting, when viewing the episode again, that part of Ilan Hall's tirade is an injunction to Marcel go to another school and to go to New York and have Ilan teach him how to cook. This was of interest because, at least according to the Bravo bios, both Marcel and Ilan attended the Culinary Institute of America (and we seem to remember reading somewhere that their tenure there overlapped). So is Ilan knocking the quality of his own education? As for teaching Marcel how to cook, Bravo's own bio says that Marcel was a teacher's assistant at CIA, so why would that be necessary? Furthermore, Marcel is a "master cook" at the U.S. flagship restaurant of international superstar chef Joël Robuchon, whereas Ilan is a "line cook" at Mario Batali's tapas joint. Padma, we think your analysis is spot-on. You done good, girl.

Padma Lakshmi's Alliterative Assault on Spice Rack?

"Also the savory and sweet layering of Sam's flavors [during the Quickfire Challenge] was more sumptuous and inviting bite after bite than Betty's green grub. Betty lost sight of the taste, the presentaion [sic], everything. I know it's only half an hour, but so? Her competitors came up with much more interesting, and delicious and adventurous plates."

We wonder, is it merely coincidence that Betty "Spice Rack" Fraser's restaurant is called Grub?