Hells Kitchen, for the uninitiated, is a show where 16 chefs compete for big bucks and a golden new career. On season 8 episode 1, one of the competing chefs presents her signature dish which makes Ramsey throw up almost his entire intestinal tract with occasional bouts of 'bloody hell--uuurrrp; brraarrf.' The next morning, during kitchen prep, the contestant goes into the storage room and falls to the ground in a spasming heap. Cut to medics. Cut to an ambulance and loud sirens. Cut to commercial.
For a moment I was surprised to not hear the opening theme from House. The more I thought about it, the more I relished the idea of Dr. Gregory House going toe to toe against chef Gordon Ramsey. who would win? would there be blood? whose wry barbs would cause the other to collapse into a quivering blob? would they, could they, erupt into a passionate frenzy of Brokeback-esque manliness while Wilson takes blackmail pictures? A rich imagination kept me busy and content for many bizarre and happy minutes.
Perhaps this is not what one would consider conventional wisdom, yet, perhaps, wisdom is the back of the hand to thinking thoughts that no (wo)man has thought before. til we meet again....
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