LAST EDITED ON 06-18-06 AT 05:20 PM (EST)

LAST EDITED ON 06-16-06 AT 09:59 PM (EST)

Once again summer is upon us. Temperatures are rising, the mayflies are dying in droves, mosquitoes line up to make reservations at human buffets, our skin is crisping in the sun, and it’s time for our ears to blister, once again, as Gordon Ramsay attempts to make world-class chefs out of bumbling, incompetent masochistic DAWs. It’s time for Hell’s Kitchen”.

We open with the Black Hell’s Kitchen bus cruising the streets filled with happy, excited DAWs acting like they’re off to summer camp instead of entering their own private Hell on earth.

Sara, 31 yr. old Deli Manager gets the first CT while on the bus. Bubbling as she tells us “I want it soooo bad.” I think that’s a given She will definitely get “it”. They all will. It just remains to be seen what “it” is, exactly.

They arrive at the doors of Hell’s Kitchen and we are treated to the sight of an annoyed looking Ramsay checking his watch and clicking what looks suspiciously like a stopwatch setting. Game on. Maitre D’ Jean Philippe pops open a bottle of bubbly as they enter. I hope they enjoy it. They’re gonna need it. They walk around the restaurant agreeing that Hell doesn’t look so bad, while Jean Philippe grins and rubs his hands with glee at the prospect of new minions.

Keith, who will eventually be known as “Mouthbreather”, 28, a Chef/Bartender is next in the CT chute, telling us that he wants to prove that an adolescent frat boy party animal can “hold it down and kill it in the kitchen”. I’m betting that one of the first things he’ll learn is that the bill of a baseball cap goes in the front. Cut to Ramsay, looking at Keith’s photo, CTing that he looks “slightly demented”.

Virginia, 25, a “Salad Chef” (whf?), is shown applying her make-up and telling us that her work at the restaurant involves applying lip-gloss and mascara. Her promotional shot shows that she’s telling the truth. She’s shown putting make-up on while standing in the middle of the kitchen. She thinks Ramsay is “hot”. Uh oh. Ramsay’s first reaction is decidedly lukewarm.

Jean Philippe calls them all together for a toast to Hell’s Kitchen as a purposeful Ramsay strides down the hallway to the strains of background music that would have worked in “JAWS”. Entering to cheers he introduces himself and tells them that there are 12 of them (just in case they can’t count – and he could be right), but that only one will win. And, they’ll win by “impressing me”.

Smiles fade as he screams for them to get into the kitchen and start cooking their signature dishes. (Note that he distinctly uses the word “cooking”.) One of our hapless DAWs thinks twice about taking another sip of her champagne and glasses are hastily dropped as they scramble to flee from the sight of Ramsay, face now contorted into the visage of the devil incarnate as he screams for them to MOVE.

Credits of DAWs we have yet to meet roll over the screen to the strains of Ohio Players’ “Fire” album. (Song used: “Fire”, other choices from the album include “Running from the Devil”, “Smoke”, “What the Hell”, “I Want to be Free”, and “It’s All Over”. Gee, pretty much sums up the whole season.)

Enter our calm and erstwhile narrator to tell us that the contestants have 30 minutes to prepare their signature dishes. Chaos reigns in the kitchen as 12 DAWs, unfamiliar with the layout or the availability of utensils, scramble to obey their master. It seems that everyone remembered to bring knife sets, but no one – NO ONE – seems to have thought of bringing a corkscrew.

Tom, soon to be known as “The Schvetter”, a 43 yr. old stock broker, hacks open a wine bottle with the back of his chefs knife, pouring white wine and broken glass into his skillet simmering on the stove. Yummy. Methinks that there will be more than one trip to hospital this season.

As Tom slips in the wine he’s spilled all over the floor others scream “OY, OY, OY” and exhort their food to cook by calling it names and poking at it with their fingers. Gabe, 27 yr. old Marketing Executive, tells us that everyone can see his heart beating through his neck. Interesting placement if he can keep it hidden from Ramsay.

Our DAWs line up at attention as Ramsay surveys 12 silver salvers set out for his review. First up is Keith’s “Leaning Tower of Pisa”. Keith stammers that it’s called “Cha Ching Sesame Crusted Tuna”. An incredulous Ramsay makes him repeat himself and define “cha ching”, which evidently means that it’s “slammin’ and it’s money”. Uh, yeah. Remember that incorrectly worn hat? It comes in handy as Ramsay dumps the upper story of the tower into it and hands it back. Taking a bit of the mess remaining Ramsay informs Mouthbreather that “this is you on a plate”. His sauce is piping hot – and he doesn’t mean that in a good way. Informed that he should “dip it with care” he prefers to stop eating it with care. Mouthbreather CT’s that the inside of his hat is soiled but it’s still wearable. He pops it back on his head sideways and stares at us slack jawed. We can just about see the big “L” branded on his forehead.

Next up is Rachel, 39. A personal chef wearing a shirt with a devil on the front and the word “Sinner” emblazoned across the back. She drawls that she’s proud of something unintelligible and says she “doesn’t have to be the big dog, but isn’t going to let anybody run over me.” Um… Attitude meet Ramsay. She informs Ramsay that her dish is “Butterfly Shrimp in Chocolate Sauce”. Ramsay, trying to rub away his rapidly developing headache, greets this announcement with “S**t!”. Our first swear word and it took all of 6 minutes of airtime, including commercial breaks. We are treated to two more swear words - of the “F” variety - in the next 12 seconds, after Ramsay finds red chili peppers covering the dish. He tastes it anyway and pronounces it “weird”. Although the prawns are quite nicely cooked there is far too much chocolate obliterating the dish. Rachel CT’s that she’s sure that kidney pie would taste like crap to her. Okaaaay.

Movin’ on we get to a cup of something. Ramsay lifts it as one would a dead rat and calls forth Polly, who tells him that she’s been cooking most of her life. She’s a 43 yr. old caterer who believes that Hell’s Kitchen will be nothing to her after having cooked naturally for a sick son. Where do they find these people?

It appears that the cup contains dipping oil meant to accompany undone foccacia bread. Ramsay declines to take a taste saying he’d rather eat “poodle poop” than put it in his mouth. (Which, of course, is bleeped and blurred. But, that’s what he said, nonetheless.) Polly is banished back to the line.

Our Fishmonger, Larry, is up next. He’s 38 yrs. old and he hasn’t figured out how tall he is yet. He’s serving “Potato Crab Cakes” with an Asian flair of soy and peppers. Ramsay informs him that it’s very hot and undercooked. Larry CT’s that if you piss him off you’ll get a pit bull. Keep that in mind for later.

Maribel, 31 yr. old cafeteria chef, is next in the pit. (Cafeterias have “chefs” where she’s from?) She’s serving an Argentine plantain soup which Ramsay promptly spits into the garbage can waiting by his side. He declares it garlicky, hot, and looking like “baby vomit”. Now that would be an interesting menu description designed to ring up sales. Maribel at least realizes that it was a disaster, but refuses to believe that it was too spicy. Instead, she blames Ramsay for being a wimp.

Blowing out his cheeks, Ramsay utters another expletive and declares that he feels sick. Frankly, I don’t blame him. He’s not sure if he wants to go any further and announces that he’s praying that it can’t get worse. We’re treated to a display of DAW’s in various poses of seriousness, slack jawness (Mouthbreather). Tom is literally dripping with sweat running unchecked down his face. But, Ramsay knows, as do we, that he must go on. Otherwise, we’ll never get to meet the rest of our happy little masochists.

The top comes off yet another silver salver, revealing what looks like shrimp with pasta in a cream sauce with a green blob of something on top. It belongs to our sweaty Tom who becomes the first contestant to utter the “F” word on air. Tom’s a self-confessed “schvetter” – just what I like to envision preparing my dinner. How ‘bout you? He’s schvetting so badly that Ramsay is afraid he’s ill. It turns out that the dish is shrimp scampi, and the green blob is Caesar salad. Cooked Caesar salad. Ewww. Ramsay is of the same opinion and Schvetter falls all over himself to thank him as Ramsay serves the salad into his outstretched hand. Seems the scampi wasn’t much better, as it follows the plantain mush into the garbage can, and Tom returns to the line with his handful of cooked salad. Wearing a hat is looking like a better idea all the time. Tom deceives himself that Ramsay shows that he cares by breaking his chops. It never occurs to him that, maybe, Ramsay is the resident sadist who just happens to like breaking chops.

Next up is Heather, soon to be known as Heroine, a Sous Chef who presides over a brigade of 12 men. At 25 she holds her own among the men, but she’s serving chocolate-raspberry empinadas. Ramsay declares it thick on the outside and therefore, gulping hard, difficult to digest. But, he also declares it the best thing he’s tasted so far. One point for Heather.

Garrett is a former Prison Chef, a skill learned while serving 5 of his 27 years in prison for check kiting. With typical prison attitude Ex-con declares, in an expletive ridden CT that he plans to out-asshole Ramsay if it becomes necessary. Yeah. That’s a plan. Garret hasn’t told Ramsay what he was in prison for, so, thinking it must have been for poisoning someone, Ramsay calls forth Gabe to play the roll of taste tester. Gabe, our Marketing Executive, shows that he’s learned his management skills as a professional back-stabber well. He CT’s that he’ll use any opportunity he can to undermine an opponent. He struggles to act like he has to work to choke it down and declares it overcooked. Ramsay agrees with him and declares that they may be a group of lousy cooks but that there’s one honest one. *snort* One very po’d Ex-con returns to the line.

Ex-con gets some satisfaction as Ramsay next turns to Backstabber’s dish. Some kind of fish which Ramsay declares raw and declines to taste. Ramsay suggests that Backstabber should call it sushi and sends him back to the line in disgrace.

Wanting to get this travesty over Ramsay reveals two dishes at once, calling forth Giacomo, 21 yr. old Pizza Maker, and Sara. Giacomo first up with “fuiti de mari”, which I may have misspelled, but recognize as Italian for “fruit of the sea”. A mixed fish and shellfish dish in a tomato based broth. Ramsay offers it to Sara who declares it very nice. Ramsay agrees and thanks God for finally finding something edible. Giacomo is rewarded with a handshake to go along with his expletive.

Sara’s dish is herb-crusted salmon with peekytoe crab pasta. Ramsay declares it a big bowl of mush and Sara returns to the line feeling good that she didn’t make him barf. Well, if that’s the criteria for good, I’m not sure how much longer she’s gonna be with us.

Our “Salad Chef”, Virginia, serves up – what else? Salad. Remember that bit about Ramsay wanting them to “cook” their signature dishes? Well, the nuts are toasted. An incredulous Ramsay profanely points out that she’s toasted nuts for 49 minutes and then grated a coconut. Not what he had in mind, I don’t think. He declares it fine, “for rabbit food - all raw and crunchy.” In quite possibly the funniest CT yet, Space Cadet declares that she’s proud of her salad and thinks that rabbits might like it, too. But, she’s not sure that rabbits like coconut milk. *Cue Twilight Zone theme song.*

Ramsay declares himself deeply concerned, which everyone there promptly ignores in their glee to hear that the winner will become the Executive Chef with a share in the profits of a brand-new, multi-million dollar, restaurant. Rachel is already planning, as I’m sure the others are, as well, to pack her things, sell her house, and go. I hope she doesn’t contact a broker quite yet.

Sous Chefs Scott and Mary Ann are introduced. The teams are broken into men vs. women (Ramsay obviously has learned nothing from The Donald) and Scott is assigned the men’s team - Blue, while Mary Ann gets the women - Red. Both men and women are happy about the team split, with Schvetter glad that he won’t have to worry about offending someone and Sara looking to prove that women can work together without being catty. Good luck to both of ‘em.

We’re now 17 minutes into the show. (I knew I was being set up when I agreed to cover the premiere. But, now that introductions have been completed, it should go faster.)

Our narrator steps in to point out that living space will be shared, and the women get together to agree that they want 2 women at the end.

Ramsay tells them that the restaurant opens up in 24hrs. and that they won’t get much sleep tonight. Time to prep. Which would be easier if Polly knew what mirepoix was. It’s the classic mixture of small-dice celery, carrots, and onions. Polly thinks that she doesn’t know what it is because she hasn’t been to culinary school. Neither have I, but I know what it means.

The men, meanwhile, just want to get out of there before the women. That task is made more difficult when Ramsay spots Tom schvetting and dripping into the vat of tomatoes he’s stirring. He warns that they are in danger of being shut down before they open and orders the tomatoes dumped into the bin. He has a delightful ewww reaction going on as he does this. Tom solves the problem by fashioning a babushka out of a bandana.

The women finish, supposedly, while the men still have considerable prep work to go. Result, next morning the women are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, while the men, having had 45 minutes of sleep, are dragging.

Ramsay asks for volunteers. Multiple women immediately raise their hands, while the men stare at each other. Giacomo finally steps up to the plate and puts his hand up. Heather and Giacomo are given the positions of “donkey”. It will be up to them to keep their kitchens clean and step-and-fetch-it for their teammates. Giacomo is ticked and reluctant. Heather is willing to do her best at whatever task she’s given. Rachel is upset about losing Heather, but still says they can win. Heather is pumped about being the cleaner, organizer, and motivator.

First ticket for Blue team. Next one goes to Red. Ramsay rattles off the orders at a rapid-fire pace. Blue sends Giacomo to fetch ladles, and he slowly wanders off in search. Meanwhile, Heather is busting her butt.

Appetizer orders up the women all huddle around Polly and try to help her. On the Blue Team Tom labors alone and strives not to sweat into the food. Women finish first, but the risotto sticks to the bowl even when he turns it upside down. They start over. Tom serves scallops – but they are still raw. Into the bin they go.

One hour into service and the only food the diners have gotten is bread. Now the mini-DAWs start to show up in the form of the diners. Having seen last year’s show they know what’s going on and decide to get their screen time by making snide comments and heckling.

Ramsay wants to know how long the appetizers are going to take from the women. Sara keeps saying 2 minutes to everything she’s asked. Polly, who’s station it is, says 6 minutes. In disgust Ramsay demands to know who’s in charge. Polly says she is, and the risotto will take 6 minutes. In one of the funnier CT’s Sara whines that if she is going to help you out on your station, with your risotto, you shouldn’t “crawl up my butt like a hemmorhoid”. Bwahahahaha.

Polly serves it up and tells Ramsay she thinks that it’s bland. Not unsurprisingly Ramsay orders it thrown out and tells them to start over. After all, if the cook thinks it’s bland, why would he serve it? Meanwhile, Tom manages to actually get an order out of the kitchen and on its way to the dining room. The men are on a streak and get 3 tables served before one of the mini-DAWs just can’t stand being left out of the limelight.

After having consumed the majority of pumpkin risotto on his plate – as Jean Philippe points out to him when he starts his very vocal kvetching - our mini-DAW has a public melt-down because there’s no pumpkin in the risotto. Mini-DAW marches his plate back to the kitchen and demands to know why there is “no pumpkin in my risotto”. Ramsay tells him to go away and calls for service. Now mini-DAW interrupts to demand that he be served the next pumpkin risotto ready. Ramsay asks if he intends to continue being rude and mini-DAW whines that “I just want more pumpkin.” What is it? Is the pumpkin really missing from what he was served, or does he just want more of it than they are serving? Ramsay politely offers to get him more pumpkin and ram it up his {censored}. He offers him a choice between whole or diced before calling for security to get him back to his seat. Mini-DAW is led away by an impassive Jean Philippe, still whining about not getting more pumpkin. Actually, I’d have paid to see Ramsay deliver that pumpkin – just as he offered.

Ramsay is calling “Four minutes to the window” and points out to Tom that he’s on fire. Tom acknowledges this and blows ineffectually at the growing flames. The kitchen disappears in smoke and flame and we cut to commercial to the sound of Ramsay screaming “Tom. TOM. TOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!”

While Tom’s fire slows down the men, Polly still hasn’t managed to serve one appetizer in an hour and a half. Ramsay orders Heather to take over and Polly to the donkey position. Ramsay repeats the order for Heather’s benefit and she gets moving. Tom is now trying cook on a stove that is off. The pilot light went out when they poured water on the fire. Ramsay notices this from across the room. Tom didn’t notice that even though his pan was stone cold and the food was doing nothing. Tom finds this amusing.

Ramsay turns his wrath on the hapless fishmonger. Larry is simply standing around doing nothing and, while Ramsay says he realizes there isn’t much for him to do yet it would be nice if he looked a little more engaged. Larry’s new nickname is now “Statue of Liberty”.

Three minutes after taking over Heather has appetizers at the window. Sara starts to cheer loudly when Ramsay okays them for service, while Heather tries to shush her. Too late. Ramsay is not pleased that Sara is celebrating like a cheerleader when it’s taken them 1 hr. and 40 minutes to produce any edible food. Heather looks grim and disapproving. Sara cries that she didn’t deserve to be yelled at.

Looking for entees, Gabe offers up the excuse that the Wellington isn’t cooked and he won’t offer up uncooked meat. Ramsay isn’t pleased, but he’s less pleased when Virginia chooses to offer him uncooked meat. Maribel wishes she were working the meat station because she could do it, as opposed to Virginia who is collapsing from the criticism. Ramsay wants to know when the entrees will be finished. Virginia doesn’t know. She starts to describe the degree of doneness that they are, and what the pastry is doing, to the kitchen as a whole. Heather tells her what to do.

Ramsay demands to know why they bothered to open. Virginia completely loses it and declares that she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t know what is wrong. She doesn’t know the menu. She doesn’t know the times. Heck, at this point I don’t think she knows her name. Virginia CT’s that she got “miscombobulated” while a more reasonable mini-DAW plaintively cries “Whatever they can make 4 of – we’ll take it.” Heather steps in and takes over.

Oops… Red Team’s Lamb stock is way too salty. Virginia tries to talk the Blue Team into donating some of theirs. Like that’s gonna happen.

Three hours in and most of the mini-DAWs are sloshed. They begin to bang their fists and flatware on the table while chanting, in unison, “I want my food. I want my food.” As we cut to another commercial break we see Giacomo putting away a broom, a fire breaking out in Red Team’s kitchen, and Gordon Ramsay curled into a fetal position rocking back and forth behind the service counter.

Unsurprisingly to everyone except the mini-DAWs, Ramsay orders the kitchens shut down and the mini-DAWs out. One slurringly CT’s that this is not what she would consider fine dining. Duh? That’s what you get for being a mini-DAW. Now, go buy a Micky D’s.

In CT’s we find that Mouthbreather Keith doesn’t think they, or he individually, killed it. It was just tough. Heather confesses that she was completely embarrassed about the service. I’m betting that her attitude will take her farther.

Our narrator points out that they’ve set a record. Never before in Hell’s Kitchen have so few people been served so little in so much time. Yet, Ramsay has to pick a “winner”. Otherwise, the show would never end and it truly would be Hell on earth.

Red Team gets lambasted for cheering over getting 2 dishes out in over 1 ½ hrs. Blue Team gets lambasted for just standing around staring and slack jawed. He wisely chooses to announce a loser, rather than a winner. Red Team loses, but Blue Team did not win. The only glimmer of hope on Red Team was Heather. Ten minutes after she was called in to take over they had food. She is the “Best of the Worst”. It’s now up to her to choose two of her teammates, one of which will be eliminated.

Back at the dorm the women are discussing what happened. Mirabel wishes she had had the meat station. Polly says she wasn’t about to lie to Ramsay about the time a dish would take. Heather agrees that, although she likes Sara, she needs to shut her mouth. She points out that if you tell someone that a dish will take 2 minutes, and you have to repeat it 15 times for the same dish, it’s NOT 2 minutes. We cut to Heather’s room where Sara, of the 2 minute fame, crawls in to apologize for the high-5. Heather CT’s that she couldn’t believe that Sara would consider their performance worthy of a cheer. The kitchens she trained in were silent. She doesn’t even see how someone could smile after that, as your dreams could be taken away in 5 minutes.

Virginia is upset with herself and Heather says she doesn’t want her to go home. Even though she suggests (why, I’m not sure) putting up Maribel, she doesn’t do it.

She may be ticked at Sara, but she’s off the hook this time. Standing at attention in front of Ramsay she chooses Polly, as she believes they can go farther without her, due to her lack of experience. Polly looks resigned. Virginia is her second choice for not doing as well as she could. Virginia looks shocked.

Called out of line to stand and deliver, Ramsay asks Virginia why she should stay. She wants to stay because she wants to succeed. She knows she makes mistakes. She has a problem with temperature. But, she wants to learn. She doesn’t want to leave “knowing that I can’t get a temperature right on frickin’ meat.”

Polly wants to stay because she has maturity and depth the other “girls” might not have, even if she doesn’t have the culinary knowledge. She has proven over her life that she has depths and can rise to a challenge.

Unfortunately for Polly, culinary knowledge is a requirement for being able to cook. She hands over her jacket and gets out of the kitchen. Her CT is about how surprised her family will be that she lost, but she’d rather lose being nice instead of conniving.

Ramsay is worried. None of them deserve a win right now. Virginia is convinced that her whole team hates her. She even hates herself. Tom thinks Ramsay may be singling him out, but that if he can get it together we might be rooting for him. Heather says the only place to go is up. Garrett realizes that it’s Hell’s Kitchen for a reason. Trying to break you and make you give up. He won’t. Sara cries that people that said the girls couldn’t do it were right.

We end the night, and the first episode, with Polly’s jacket being impaled on a meat hook.

We’d normally end the first episode’s summary with a look at what’s coming up in the next episode. But, since they decided to splice together 2 separate episodes into one 2-hr. premiere the next episode just happens to air after a commercial break. Since I agreed to summarize the whole clusterfest, I’m not about to write about it twice. So, you’ll just have to wait for the next installment, coming soon (as soon as I can relax my fingers from the cramps they’ve developed) to a message board near you.

Puppy Lvoe from Tribe blogging's scary
Edit to remove a very proper English word for a body part. I dunno why the network censored it, but if they did, I suppose I should, too.