Time to get a horse in this race.
Alright, enough with the dancing about. Let’s draw some lines in the sand. But before we do that an quick observation: Ryan is one cheesy mother-scratcher, and I’m thrilled (though shocked) that he got the boot this week (especially given the massive fumbles by both our Hobbit-looking Australian friend and Nikki. Luckily, none of those three are my dog, to borrow a phrase from the once rotund Randy Jackson.
The way I see it, the best chefs are Spike, Richard, Andrew, Stephanie and Dale, with Andrew being far and away the most fun to watch on screen because you always get the feeling he’s one forgotten Ritalin away from the nut house (or at the very least detention somewhere). My favorite Andrewism is when one of the judges criticizes his food and he immediately gets this look of complete puzzlement and then cocks his head slightly to the right while tapping his lips with his index finger as if to say, “Ah, what you are proposing I was not aware of, though I could see how something like that could certainly be the case.” I love it. That being said, Andrew is not getting the full-fledged MMF-endorsement. No, that distinction goes to another. Find out who after the break…
