Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!!!
Okay, so you know how, on Top Chef, Tom Colicchio’s always like, “You’re a good chef, but we just don’t see consistency out of you”???
HA HA HA HA HA.
So, um, on Monday, Michelin — one of the premiere restaurant ranking agencies in the world — took away one of Tom Colicchio’s stars at his restaurant Craft.
“It doesn’t mean that the chef has less talent. It’s just that the consistency was not there,” said Jean-Luc Naret, the director of the Michelin Guide.
Am I the only one who finds this shit hilarious???
Padma Lakshmi, perhaps best known on the Top Chef set as the resident herb enthusiast, is divorcing her much older husband, controversial author Salman Rushdie. A rep for Rushdie stated today that “Salman Rushdie has agreed to divorce his wife, Padma Lakshmi, because of her desire to end their marriage.”
The New York Post seemed to catch a whiff of trouble before the news officially broke. On June 29, they noted that “Lakshmi was spotted hanging out into the wee hours at the Rose Bar at the Gramercy Park Hotel with a well-known chef who was there without his spouse.” The kids at Gawker have decided this means Padma’s having an affair with Anthony Bourdain. All together now: Ew.
Here’s something funny: the permalink for this story on TMZ is the following:
This is, of course, hilarious, but the story actually ran on the site with the headline: “Padma to Rushdie: Pack Your Knives and Go,” which is less hilarious. I wonder why they changed the original headline.
Padma’s not the only Top Chef host to be married to a much older man; Billy Joel’s child bride, Katie Joel, hosted the first season, and we’re been hearing murmurings of trouble in their marriage over the past few months. Is there a Top Chef curse? Or is there just, you know, a Marrying a Much, Much Older Man Until You’re Famous and Wealthy in Your Own Right curse?
I don’t know who at Gawker decided to Photoshop this picture of Top Chef hottie and resident Marcel-hater Sam Talbot, but I sure am glad they did. I thought I was having a bad day. I was wrong. This is awesome.
They photo was created to supplement a story about how Sam is opening a restaurant in NYC, some sort of burger joint, he’s not sure he can get a liquor license, lock up your wives, etc etc etc, but most importantly would he like to have sex with me? I think he has a girlfriend, but a girlfriend is not a wife. Sam? You should call me. We’re hiring … um … a chef here at Evil Beet. Someone has to feed Lars. He’s a growing boy. We think you’d be perfect for the job. Get in touch.
According to sources on the set, Top Chef host Padma Lakshmi often indulged in a joint on the set every now and then — or, you know, “fairly regularly.” As the Best Week Ever folks point out, this explains a lot, like how she usually seems only marginally involved in whatever’s going on, how she speaks very slowly, and how she married Salman Rushdie.
It’s also disappointing, though, because we could have pushed this storyline much further. Pot brownies have been done — can we see someone attempt a duo of Mary Jane foie gras and sirloin? With pot potatoes on the side? Can Marcel make a foam out of it? Or mix it with xantham gum? I can’t believe no one thought to try that. It would have made for one hell of a judges table.
Apparently Top Chef’s Ilan has recently quit his job at Spanish restaurant Casa Mono. Hmm. Is this because he won?? Oh man, please say he did. Because if Marcel won, I’m going to have to, I don’t know, throw a bottle at him or something.
Well, a girl and a bottle, technically. I guess it really takes a woman to do a man’s job. According to Page Six, someone finally did the bodily harm to the scrawny contestant that Sam, Cliff and Ilan had dreamed of for months. “This girl came up to me at a nightclub and asked me if I was Marcel from ‘Top Chef,’ ” Marcel says. “The next thing I knew, this bottle struck me, and my friends had to rush me to the hospital. I needed 30 stitches.”
Here’s what surprises me: Marcel has friends. Not just friends, but the kind of friends who rush one to the hospital in this situation, rather than high-fiving the bottle-throwing girl. I wonder what type of bottle it was. I hope it was beer, and I hope there was foam in it.