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McBitchyson has finally come up with a concept for her dish, which is a mixture of chicken and quail breasts. StacheBear is still lamely trying to distract her while she’s cooking, and she expertly ignores him, getting her plates composed in plenty of time to present to the table…
a.k.a. identicluck cousins
McBitchy basically talks about how her mother made a lot of hearty homestyle foods, especially chicken, and those homey flavors were what influenced her early on. Hey, it makes more sense than crediting a magazine article read in a gay porn setting. After she leaves they dig in, and nobody says anything for a while, which Daddy Tom eventually comments is a sign of a good dish. Boy Toy Roy says it looks like a very simplistic dish until you dive in and start breaking it apart, and then there are a lot of layers and textures and temperatures, and he is sensing the weight of all McBitchy’s ancestors in the skin of the quail, their energy is infused in the chicken…
all those old dead white people are delicious
Mrs. Guv agrees that every bite had a wonderful flavor to it. Wolfie says hiz onlee cridisizm eez da qvail bwest vaz overcooged… bud eef zis eez how Bwooke’z muzzer coogs, hee vould ztill come over to her houzz. Daddy Tom thinks McBitchy accomplished what she set out to do with elevating her mother’s basic cooking. Boy Toy Roy pipes up to tell them all that McBitchyson was actually a prodigy in the L.A. culinary world starting out very young, and I’m sure that ringing endorsement won’t influence the Judges’ decision at all, do you?
Back in the kitchen, StacheBear’s torchon has not turned out the way he wanted it to at all…
unless slices of squishy liver-turd were what he was going for
For the first time he mentions having made two other versions of foie gras, and says they look great on his plate. Why he didn’t just leave off the shitty one is beyond me. Instead, he’s hucking it into the freezer in a desperate attempt to make it harden. Plus, he’s hoping that the news of his brand new BabyStache will garner him enough sympathy that they won’t send his fat ass back home on the verge of making it to the Finale. Then he tells his whole exotic made-up fois gras story, once again making it sound like Oklahoma has a border wall erected all around it to keep out anything refined or slightly effeminate…
and Gail doesn’t look like she’s really buying his butt-kiss about the magazine