With the departure of Roshni last week, Blue team is back to being a sausage factory, and a volatile one, at that. Royce is gunning for Patrick, Patrick is gunning for Clemenza, people seem to be gunning for Brian at random, and everyone hates Royce. Justin has managed to suck exponentially less than everyone else, and therefore barely exists.
The Red team is a hotbed of dramatic bullshit, and can barely keep it together on a daily basis, but they’re pretty cheerful and confident as they head upstairs. The exception to the hot mess rule seems to be Christina, who is getting individual kudos from Gordon, on top of working it out pretty hard in the kitchen on a nightly basis. She’s had a few screw-ups here and there, but nothing near the tomfoolery we’re seeing from the rest of her team. For the moment, everything is cool, though, and Kimmie informs us how amazing they are.
Clemenza and Brian are smug, but Patrick is pissed at Royce, who of course—UGH! I forgot what I was going to say there, because I was just treated to a shot of Royce’s pale, doughy, shirtless flank. The guacamole I ate earlier just surged back into my mouth, and now I’m afraid that flavor is linked to Royce forever. I love guacamole. Used to. Fuck.
The next morning, Kimmie treats us to some rhymes she wrote…because she apparently has a side thing in the Memphis rap scene. Oooookaaaaaay. I guess it’s nice that she’s trying to boost morale, but I’m going to go ahead and make an executive recapping decision, and it is that we’re going to relive that travesty as little as humanly possible, and never speak of it again.
Everyone on board with that? Okay, good.
Back in the kitchen, Gordon has a gold curtain set up, behind which is a slot machine of sorts. You know, to go with the whole Vegas thing. The ingredients for the challenge will be determined by the slot machine, and each team will present five dishes. This naturally leads to an issue for the Red team, because they have six people left, and Gordon tells them to pick a person to sit out. Dana immediately asserts herself as a strong player, and Kimmie volunteers to sit out, mostly to avoid conflict. Kimmie needs to stand up for herself—she talks a lot of smack, but when it comes down to brass tacks, she lets the others shuffle her into the background. I’m thinking the Red team should maybe sideline Robyn, but my opinion based on pure logic, and I know that’s asking a lot.
Wow, what could be under that sheet? Not another gimmick, they wouldn’t do that.
Dana and Patrick approach the slots first, and they will each be working with flat iron steak, potatoes, mushrooms, spinach, and blue cheese. Sounds like dinner! Dana says she doesn’t know how to work with flat iron steak because she doesn’t cook it at home. Excuse me, but aren’t you supposed to be some kind of chef? Did these people not go to culinary school, like, at all? Patrick has no issue with the ingredients, or if he does, he keeps them to himself.
Christina and Royce are next, and for the record, they get hanger steak, yams, eggplant, asparagus, and crab. It really doesn’t matter what they get, though, because I think we all know who will dominate this particular round. Even Royce knows it, but he insists he’s going to eventually beat her. “I won’t stop until she’s crying,” he says. He probably says that to his reflection in the mirror before a date, too.
I’m thinking Royce just has that effect on women in general.
Brian and Barbie pull New York strip, celery root, tomatoes, cauliflower, and shrimp, while Tiffany and Justin get filet, beets, carrots, zucchini, and chorizo. Apparently that’s a shitty draw, because Justin lets us know that it sucks as bad as his luck. Justin has bad luck? Well, I wouldn’t know, because this is the first concrete detail we’ve gotten about his ass in nine episodes. Seriously, it’s like he’s an extra on this show.