God bless Howie. He went down in a blaze of turtle turd appetizers, or as Hung so gently put it: unappealing dog diarrhea. Howie had plenty of fight left in him, however, saying, "I will be in control of my own destiny." Bye, dahling. You made for fab t.v.
As for Casey's win: Well, knock me down with a feather! I'll accept the judges decision, but, er, didn't they see how laboriously she sliced her frozen beef? This win doesn't bode well for this Top Chef season. However, Casey was so happy, she decided to change into her bikini once again and cook herself under the sun.
Hung, God Bless his stubborn soul, taught us and Tom Coliccio a lesson in the history of gastronomy. He nearly convinced me that serving Mastodon tartar on prairie grass tartlets is de rigeur.
What a fabulous episode, dahlings. Now, let's all petition cheapskate BRAVO and ask them to cough up a few more dollars for their cooking competitions. $350 for 60 people? Why that's Ms. Place's budget for her weekly restaurant nights out! And none of her favorite haunts are on a yacht.