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Hell Is Heaven - TVgasm

by B-Side

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risottoLadies and gentlemen, I have a new guilty pleasure: Hell's Kitchen. Granted, I'm a bit biased towards the show, if only because I had been looking forward to its airing since I first caught wind of it back in October of last year. As last night's premiere episode loomed closer, I did have a few worries. Okay, actually only one big concern: would this reality series adopt the same highly-scripted (and highly lame) style as seen on other Fox fare such as Trading Spouses, Renovate My Family, Nanny 911, My Big Fat Obnoxious Boss, or The Simple Life? Well, I don't know the degree to which the show is scripted (it's safe to say that all reality series have at least some scripting), but for the most part, I'm happy to report that Fox has finally realized that it might just be entertaining to maintain some semblance of reality (if a contrived premise in an even more contrived environment can be called that). Yes, Gordon Ramsey's bullying gets repetitive. Yes, he sometimes feels like a jerk for jerk's sake. And yes, he's not nearly as charismatic as Simon Cowell or Donald Trump. But when a neophyte chef dares to make an endive salad as her signature dish (paging Hillary Clinton), you know there's fun times ahead...

The premiere began with a perfunctory introduction of Gordon Ramsey. The narrator modestly referred to G-Ram as the KING OF ALL CHEFS (pause for timpani and gongs) but then some slick footage of the cook speeding away in a sports car revealed that he was also the bad-boy of the culinary world. Sadly, we did not see Gordon crashing through a restaurant window on a Harley with long, rebellious locks blowing in the wind. I guess that's because being the bad-boy of the kitchen really doesn't carry the same caché of an actual rockstar or athlete. Something tells me that not even the most hardcore of chefs has ever uttered, "Dammit, my souflé collapsed. NOW LET'S TRASH THE HOTEL ROOM! ROCK AND ROLL!!!!"

Nevertheless, the oh-so-serious narrator introduced us to the "hot new restaurant" -- or soundstage, as we like to call it -- that would serve as the backdrop of this show, and then it was time to meet our future Iron Chefs. As the contestants mingled in the empty restaurant, the narrator informed us that "food is their passion." And, well, reality stardom too. But that's neither here nor there. Anyway, we first met Jessica, a bleached blonde headhunter who seems to have taken hair advice from Linkin Park. We didn't really get to learn much about her personal life, but something tells me her dishes will feature more clams than sausages, if you know what I mean (wink wink, nudge nudge).

Next up on the rainbow of diversity that is Hell's Kitchen was Dewberry, an effeminate, rotund (er, obese really), and not-so-nimble pastry chef who nearly became a human bowling ball after tripping down some steps. Luckily, the only damage was some sloshed champagne (and perhaps a few floorboards). Like Jessica, we didn't learn much about Dewberry (thanks Fox official website for not having the bios up) except that he's from Georgia, which leads me to hope that there might be some dramatic moment later where he'll declaire "Well, I never!" and then faint.

DEWBERRY Do The Dew...berry

Next up was Andrew from New Jersey, a young whippersnapper whose dreams are to be a state senator or open a restaurant. Well, congratulations Andrew! By appearing on this reality show, you've ensured that both will not be coming true! Bravo!


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