So You Want To Be A Waiter

The best book on waiting tables that you have never read – yet

Top chef returns…













Oh my.

This could be a mess.

I was going to post a blow-by-blow, but I had to stop the DVR when the showgirls came in for the first quickfire challenge. I’m definitely going to have to wait  until the light of day to finish watching this first episode because I’m afraid that, lacking any garlic and crosses, I might be in serious peril. After all, I’ve already invited it into my home.

I will say this – I didn’t like the opening sequence very much. They’ve done some retooling graphics-wise and, well, color me underwhelmed.

They keep upping the talent pool, now throwing in James Beard winners and Michelin star awardees. They have someone  who’s trained with Eric Ripert. Quite a few of them seem to own their own restaurants (this is a trend that’s been accelerating as the seasons go by). They’re not in a dumpy warehouse in a back alley of Miami, they’re in a hotel. And the house…the house…it’s a little McMansion, probably temporarily rescued from foreclosure from some formerly wealthy Vegas entrepreneur bordello owner. I only got a glimpse but I’m guessing that the Ikea budget is quite healthy.

Collichio has a wicked look in his eye as he welcomes them to the sixth Terrace of Purgatory (Gluttony, where only the finest, newest, shiniest GE stainless steel appliances are fitting for the preparation of excess), a place whose food court he has happily been a part of for a few years now. In Vegas, there are express escalators to the various other Terraces and one moves freely between Avarice, Envy and Lust and I’m sure that the show is going to exploit each of these sins with glee.

So, time will tell if I’ll be able to maintain the running commentary that I hoped to employ. This is the first season that has run in the life of this blog and I was sooooo looking forward to it. However, after seeing this lot (and this is the shallow, insensitive part of my character), I actually wanted to drive tattoo needles through my eyes. I hate myself for saying it, because I like the idea of real people, not eye candy, but there are some scary people on this season.

The elves that put on this show will probably find a way to hook me. We have a brother act, the requisite gays, bears, punctured and tattooed outsiders, players, token pretty girls and girls next door, foreigners, and amateurs. The Bravo demographic is certainly covered here. We have bitches and bastards, sensitive types and, in a reversal from previous seasons, only one New York City chef. Time will tell what sort of social experiments will brew this time. With brothers involved, will we see a threesome develop? Will we have a cheftestant have to quit because of a latent gambling problem? Will restaurant wars see someone deliberately sabotage the team in order to get rid of a strong cheftestant who volunteers to be Executive Chef?

At this point, I don’t even have the energy to look at the first five minutes to figure who’s going to get the first axe and have to pack their virtually unused knives. That’s Vegas for you. I’m already tired of the video collages of fake Eiffel Towers and faux Venice canals. I’ll bet Frenchy is going to have some juicy litle confessionals and sound bites.

Am I being overly pessimistic? Perhaps.

As I said, time will tell.



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