Britain's Beelzebub of Cooking, Gordon Ramsay, welcomed a fresh batch of culinary recruits to his seventh circle of the stove last night with the third season of "Hell's Kitchen."
The first episode was pretty much a repeat of the last few seasons: The cooks are a bunch of screw-ups who can't cook eggs or pasta. Ramsay goes ballistic, wrinkles his face like a Sharpei , diners wait endlessly for their meals and complain that it's taking too long. Someone stabs someone in the back. Someone goes home. End of this one-note show.
Ramsay's bark and his short-tempered school yard bully routine plays old after 15 minutes. As Bonnie, the nanny/personal chef put it "he makes me want to pee my pants." Bonnie, wear a diaper. Ramsay offers no sympathy and clearly can't stomach anyone who can stand to lose weight - he was a former professional soccer player. You just know that the Aaron, the overweight, crybaby retirement home chef isn't going to fair well. Too early to tell who will emerge as fan favorites, but I kind of like Eddie, the 5 foot 2-inch line cook from Atlanta, who calls himself "a bulldog in a Chihuahua's body," Melissa, the New York line cook and Rock, the executive chef from Spotsylvania, Va.
Hopefully, this season will fair better than Ramsay's New York restaurant which, as detailed in a recent New Yorker article, is getting a lukewarm reception from diners and critics.
No comments:
Post a Comment