The 12 Days of Bitchmas -- Day Nine: Ted Allen: Lucky Bitch, “Rice” Queen, Master Bear Baiter? Plus, Tom Colicchio’s ‘Wichful Thinking

Possums, one of the things we are looking forward to in the new season of Top Chef is the return of judge Ted Allen, a glitter-bespattered, cannibal gayrdian angel to this blog (and pictured here with his boyfriend, Barry Rice). (Ted, possum, we had no idea he looked like that; who can blame you for being a Rice queen?)

However, we have not posted this photo merely to publicize our very gay flouting of the Tenth Commandment (“Thou shalt not covet… thy neighbor’s [ahem] wife, nor his [ahem] manservant,… nor his [ahem] ass…” Exodus 20:17).

No, possums. We have posted this photo as Exhibit A to prove that, notwithstanding his protestations of ignorance, Ted Allen is a bear chaser.

The admittedly farfetched importance of this fact will become apparent all too quickly.

(Oh, and by the by, possums, does Barry Rice remind you of any other shaven-headed, barrel-chested, fortyish man with a penchant for dark suits and unbuttoned shirts?)

What with his being our cannibal gayrdian angel, we took umbrage on Ted’s behalf when we read this interview with Tom Colicchio. When asked, “Who is the most enjoyable judge to have sort of by your side at the judging table?” Tom replied, “I’m always more comfortable when Gail [Simmons] is on my left. I mean, she’s not a guest. I know I didn’t answer the question. But that’s when I’m most comfortable.”

Alright, fair enough. But then, when asked, “Will Ted [Allen] and Gail [Simmons] ever be at the judging table at the same time?” Tom replied, “I think the world of both of them. I just - I like it when Gail is on my left and Padma [Lakshmi] is on my right. It’s a nice little sandwich I have going there.”

Ah, Tom, spoken like the creator of sandwich shop ‘wichcraft. But if that sandwich has a name, it is surely ‘Wichful Thinking. (A Gail-Padma sandwich wouldn’t even need meat; the Cubans, after all, refer to lesbian sex as a “pan con pan” (bread with bread). Not every midnight (medianoche) has to have a pickle.).

But back to our umbrage. Tom, Tom, Tom, we didn’t think it possible, but is there just the teeniest implication that you’re uncomfortable when Ted is sitting at your left? Is there a soupçon of gay panic in the rhetorical mayonnaise that binds that sandwich? Or have we completely lost our minds and given in to our most conspiratorial urges? Wait, don’t answer that.

Tom, just because Ted is a bear chaser and you look like his boyfriend doesn’t mean he’s going to cop a feel. There’ll be no wire hangers and no soap-dropping at the judges’ table. Fear not.

And anyway, Tom, why won’t you be one of Teddy’s bears? Is it because Teddy once said he’d “like to see you cooking in stilettos and a teddy?” Or is it because Ted once publicly declined to eat you? And what, pray tell, is wrong with a Manwich? After all, even with Gail and Padma, a sandwich is a sandwich, but a Manwich is a meal.

The 12 Days of Bitchmas -- Day Eight: Ryan Scott Tosses Salad; Can a Spurt of Ranch Dressing Be Far Behind?, or Special Sauce, Lettuce, Cheesy Smile

Oh possums, honi soit qui mal y pense.

"Brings a whole new meaning to Hidden Valley Ranch," said Miss XaXa, but of course that's not what we meant. We were referring only to Ryan's Bravo video interview, during which he says, "My favorite junk food would have to be ranch dressing."

"Brings a whole new meaning to junk food," purred Miss XaXa.

(Sorry about that, possums. Once she gets started, she turns into Barbara Standbackwyck in Double Entendrety and it's hard to stop her.)

At any rate, Ryan confesses during his video to his fondness for putting ranch dressing on pizza, which may well be a clue to his choice of topping--

"Don't even think it," we hastened to interrupt Miss XaXa.

--during the Quickfire Challenge on the show's premiere episode, which consists of a Pizzeria Uno-sponsored throwdown for deep-dish pizza.

"Special sauce, lettuce and cheesy smile aside, he probably has very nice sesame-seed buns," concluded Miss XaXa with a sigh.

The 12 Days of Bitchmas -- Day Seven: Food Network Once Again Blinded by Big Tits, British Accent

No, possums, we are most definitely not talking about Nigella Lawson, who, were we so "oriented," would be the ideal woman for us--well, except for that whole business about marrying Charles Saatchi.

But we digress.

We are, naturally, referring to Robert Irvine, who's been dropped like a hot potato from his gig on the telly. It's old news by now, of course, but we try as much as we can to have as little as possible to do with Food NOTwork, so we're only getting around to it now. (Ah, Food NOTwork: big tits and an accent, and they'll offer you a show. Yes, we mean you, Ingrid Hoffmann.)

We have ghastly memories of Christmastime last year, when, whilst channel-surfing, we came across Paula Deen in another of her Tennessee Williams moments, hanging lasciviously off Irvine's biceps while participating in the Food NOTwork holiday special. 'Twas very Rose Tattoo of her. Her libido was practically palpable onscreen, and a whole lot of palpating she did, too. Indeed, Paula did everything short of bringing out the nipple clamps for him. It was train-wreck television that made us ask ourselves, Is Paula Deen a small-town Southern gay man trapped in a former agoraphobe's body?

But, again, we digress.

So Robert Irvine lied, lied, lied about being a knight, and having a castle, and working on Princess Diana's wedding cake, and so many more things. And now that Food NOTwork has gotten rid of him, what will Paula Deen do the next time she, er, gets a hot flash in the pan?

Bonus Game:

Possums, take a gander at the photo and have a little fun with the semiotics, ironies and implications of a heavily muscled man holding a Rubirosa pepper mill.

"Are you talking about small privates?" asked Miss XaXa.

"No, darling. Chef Irvine was in the Navy. I don't think they've got privates, just sailors, and no matter what the Village People say, sailors and privates don't fraternize."

Bonus Footage: We tried to find footage of the holiday special, but couldn't. Still, even this clip from another show will give you a taste of what we mean.

The 12 Days of Bitchmas -- Day Six: Wayward & Biatchstein Investigate

Possums, we are all too aware that we have a reputation for being suspicious and conspiratorially minded. Eh bien, what can we do?

But remember les affaires Clippergate and Fauxmicah from seasons past, and so cut us a little slack—even if only so our tinfoil hats will fit better—and listen to the question we are about to ask about two of this season’s cheftestants.

Zoi Antonitsas and Jennifer Biesty:












A couple of lesbians?

















Or a lesbian couple?

Let us examine the evidence, shall we?

We knew from AfterElton.com that, although there are no openly gay male cheftestants this season, “there are lesbian contestants.”

Then we came upon this story, which contains the following statement: “In the case of this season’s Top Chef, there’s a the [sic] lesbian couple - who don’t really shock anyone since there are plenty of lesbians in the restaurant industry.”

Curious, n’est-ce pas?

We happened onto Jen's MySpace page, which, as you can see from the screencap below, states that Jen is a lesbian and is in a relationship. Among her MySpace friends, none other than Zoi holds the prime spot.

















Curiouser and curiouser, non?

Zoi's profile status is set to private, so we were unable to find anything there. However, both Bravotv.com and Eater SF confirm that Jen and Zoi reside and work in San Francisco.

And then, rooting around Jen's MySpace page, we found what would seem literally to be the clincher, the photo of them posted above, in which they appear to be an adorable couple. Is it conclusive evidence? Perhaps not. But we're not honorary lesbians for nothing; our 'dar is a-tingle.

If these two are indeed a couple, Zoi--who in the photo reminds us of our favorite, and now-deceased, character on The L Word, Dana--is a lucky gal. Though her spelling isn't the best, Jen has excellent taste in literature; Jeanette Winterson and Sarah Waters are two of our favorites, and Corby Kummer of The Atlantic Monthly is a superb food writer.

Our worry is that, if true, this smacks of stunt casting on Bravo's part. It would certainly be a novelty to have a couple competing on a Bravo reality show, but it does bring all sorts of complications. Bravo senior vice president Raggaydy Andy Cohen, a well-known fan of The Amazing Race, which does just this sort of thing, has previously gone on the record to reiterate Bravo's prohibition against contestants "doin' it" with each other, for fear of STDs and liability. But does this prohibition extend to preexisting couples? Or are the producers counting on LBD? (Ask a friendly neighborhood Sapphist to explain that to you, possums.) Either way, is it fair? And what about the strain of such a brutal competition on the couple? And what about the rigors of competing against each other, rather than, as on The Amazing Race, against other teams? Oy, what a tangled web.

Still, as Jen's favorite, Jeanette Winterson, might have put it, it's a good thing that Jen and Zoi are around, because on this season of Top Chef, oranges are the only fruit.

The 12 Days of Bitchmas -- Day Five: Mythology: Ryan's Hope Becomes Ryan Idle

Well, that was short-lived.

While watching Ryan Scott's video profile on Bravotv.com, Miss XaXa was driven by exasperation to quote Edina Margaret Rose Monsoon from AbFab: "You only work in a sandwich shop, you know; you can drop the attitude."

Well, possums, it seems he doesn't even work in a sandwich shop anymore.

Eater SF is reporting that Ryan is leaving his job at Myth Cafe. His last day making sexy, seasonal, simple sandwiches will be next Friday, March 14, two days after the premiere of Top Chef.

Eater SF also reports that Ryan is starting a new venture called Ryan Scott 2Go: "No further details are available on the enterprise, though you can probably make some inferences based on the name alone (surely, an escort service)."

Undoubtedly untrue, that last bit, but people can dream, can't they? For her part, Miss XaXa wonders, "2Go where? And is there a list of toppings?"

The 12 Days of Bitchmas -- Day Four: San Francisco Chef Emerges from “The Baths” Conspicuously Ungay, Pleads Not to Be Hated Because He's Beautiful

Jean Cocteau once wrote that “les privilèges de la beauté sont immenses,” but no matter how great the privileges of beauty, we almost—and it may simply be old age, possums, or a touch of the black bile—feel sorry for the purtiest cheftestant of all time, San Franciscan Ryan Scott.

“Oh, come off it,” snapped Miss XaXa. “He certainly picked the right city to have such a purty mouth in. Not to mention those handle-ears. He’s like a soup mug.”

Well, so much for the Kelly LeBrock of the reality food television world.

As The Modesto Bee is only too immodesto to tell us, Ryan Scott was born in the titular city, but soon enough moved to Los Baños, which, should your Spanish fail you, possums, means, “The Baths.” Of course, it also means, “The Bathrooms.”

“Wait,” said Miss XaXa, who has personal experience with the Central Valley of California, “doesn’t that mean we can say he’s literally from the dumps?”

Oh dear, yet another strike against the shit-eating grin. And the bonnie lad already has so many strikes against him.

Eater SF, which has breathlessly and gleefully chronicled all things Ryan, dug up a “(more-than- ) slightly ridiculous video” in which Ryan, dubbed “Sexy Chef,” oleaginously discusses fish and brags about his time in Hawaii while cheesy porn music plays in the background. Eater SF also caught Ryan training as a waiter at Pier 23 Café, despite being the chef at Myth Café. And our pal Josh Ozersky of Grub Street, who watched an advance copy of the new season’s first episode, describes Ryan as possessed of “such surpassing smugness that [he is] already rooting against him.”

Add to that the porn-star name, the pink-flowered shirt, and the perfectly groomed hair—it’s hard to tell if it’s slicked with gel or self-regard—and it becomes hard to see the pretty boy for the strikes.

Not that it means anything, of course. In his Bravo profile video, Ryan is the only one who hastens to invoke his girlfriend: “I don’t take longer than a half an hour when I cook at home for my girlfriend and I [sic].”

Ok, Ryan, got it. Though you are the chef at Myth Café, your girlfriend is anything but mythical (though ours always were).

In a show of mock-humility that must have required a great deal of energy to perform, Ryan declares in the same Bravo video, “I’m a little hidden in the back, which is fine, actually; that’s the way I want it.” Oh, falsely modesto bee, no one who looks like you or grooms like you is fine with being hidden in the back.

But this, Ryan, possum, is exactly why we can’t wait to be entertained by you throughout the season. Now if we could only settle on a nickname for you.

We suggested the Immodesto Bee, but Miss XaXa favored Soup Mug, or “Mugs.” We countered with Little Pitcher, since, as you know, possums, little pitchers have big ears, but Miss XaXa responded, “Actually, he looks like a catcher.”

What are we to do? It may, in the end, come down to Ryan’s Hopeless.

Suggestions, possums?

The 12 Days of Bitchmas -- Day Three: Mrs. O’Leary’s Cow to Lodge Complaint Against Bravo for Insensitivity, Ignorance of History

"Let the Flames Begin...Chicago"?!?

We were shocked, possums, shocked.

Someone at Bravo obviously didn't do well in American history at school.

"But wait," said Miss XaXa, "maybe Bravo is just relying on the American public's historical illiteracy?"

Well, we had to admit she had us there.

Alright, Bravo, we'll let you off. But we still think an apology is due to Chicagoan judge Ted Allen and, of course, to Mrs. O'Leary's cow.

“Gal” Pals' Stunning Declaration: If You Can Stand the Heat, Get in the “Kitchen”

As you know, possums, the old adage advises leaving the kitchen when the heat gets to be too much. Fortunately, our dear friends The Gals—epicurean adventuresses, Top Chef chroniqueuses, tongue-in-cheek PhotoShoppeuses, and incurable gourmandes with a deliciously telling fixation on the undergarment choices of the high, the mighty, and the merely notorious of the food-world establishment—are nothing if not cussed, strong-minded females, which, doggone it, is just how we like our women.

These karma chameleons have therefore built themselves a new kitchen and decided to crank up the heat. Their new abode is called The Karmic Kitchen, and you are invited to pull up a chair. The Gals will, naturally, still dish up their trademark Lucullan Top Chef coverage, but will also discuss all things culinary, gustatory, and gastronomic.

The table is set, the oven is hot, so come on get some in The Karmic Kitchen. If you’re good, the Gals will even let you break the dishes.

The 12 Days of Bitchmas -- Day Two: More Memoirs of a Gaysian?

Possums, it really is our fault.

Given our day job, we ought to have parsed the language more carefully before surrendering to despair.

The bit from AfterElton.com that caused all the gnashing of veneers says that “there are no openly gay men on this season….” (emphasis added). But of course!

Indeed, once Miss XaXa had a proper look at the picture of cheftestant Dale Talde that Bravo posted on its website, in which he exhibits a case of gayface so pronounced that it might as well appear in a medical textbook, she turned on one Louboutin heel and said, “Mmm-hmmm!”

Then, taking our hand and talking gently to us, as if we were a dimwitted child, she said, “His name is Dale. He’s from Chicago. Do the math.”

Then, on Eater.com, we found postings in which Dale Talde is described as “rude,” “evil,” “brilliant,” “temperamental,” “mean,” and “totally nuts.”

Ladies, gentlemen and possums, we have a winner.

And last season we were proven right about Hung Huynh in this respect, so you never know.

Still, isn’t it a tad lazy on Bravo’s part to give us another potentially Gaysian villain in the kitchen? If the judges or other contestants start talking about how Dale’s cooking is technically accomplished but lacks soul, we’re going to call for somebody to be given the Chinese water torture.

Oh, and confidential to Dale: Possum, we would be angry with Bravo not just for the gayface pic--and the belt buckle thing; remember this picture of Gaysian Top Design contestant Goil Amornvivat? Coincidence?--but also for this line in your profile: “A motto that drives Dale is ‘expect perfection ,[sic] because if you fall short your [sic] left with greatness.”

On second thought, by your logic, that sentence isn’t perfect, so it must be great.

The 12 Days of Bitchmas -- Day One: Let the Flaming Begin

Possums, before Top Chef premieres 12 days from now, we might as well come out and say something to you, and to Mr. Andrew Cohen of Bravo, aka Raggaydy Andy. We, for one, intend to complain to the FCC, the FTC, and the FFC—

“Wait, what’s the FFC?” interrupted Miss Xaxa.

“The Fairies & Fruitflies Commission.”

“Is that a federal agency?”

“No, but that won’t stop us from making a federal case out of this.”

And what are we going to complain about?

Why, false advertising, of course.

For several weeks now, we’ve been bombarded with ads for the Chicago-filmed fourth season of Top Chef featuring Tom Colicchio and Padma Lakshmi moving slowly and ominously, as though in a Madonna video, through an orange set that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the original Starship Enterprise. How any of this is supposed to signify Chicago is beyond us, but it’s the tagline that gets us: “Let the flames begin.”

For, you see, possums, we learned that “there are no openly gay men on this season (a first since Season 1).”

Qué what???

“Wait,” said Miss XaXa, “isn’t this Bravo?”

Exactly.

Oh, Raggaydy Andy, what will you say when Kathy Griffin asks, “Where are my gays?”

We had a look at all the cheftestant bios and videos, and nary a homosexual among the chaps. In fact, most of them seem rather dull. Let the flames begin, indeed! ‘Tis false advertising, we say.

Bravo makes a Classical allusion with its “Let the flames begin” tagline for this season, but, having had a gander at the cheftestants, we fear that another Classical tag may be more apt: We who are about to die—of boredom—salute you.

We haven’t abandoned all hope for the season, of course. Still, as RuPaul might have commanded, “Flambé, chantez!” Raggaydy Andy, you’d better work.