This morning, Moleskine II and I thought we had entered an alternate universe where Just Desserts was still taking up valuable space on our DVR's hard drive. A cookie quickfire challenge? Really? We were annoyed that we had roused ourselves out of bed a whole hour early merely to watch the cheftestants work with gluten, gluten, and more gluten for a full twenty minutes. We had just begun to consider retreating upstairs with a cup of coffee and a good book when the guest judges appeared and we became enthralled.
First, a proviso. The Kid Squid, having been raised in Other Places, was never a Sesame Street fan, having emigrated Stateside at too advanced an age to appreciate the educational programming provided by the good people at the Children's Television Workshop. This is not to say he was not a huge fan of the Muppets - we all were, chez Fractured Amy, and remain so to this day, still sitting down from time to time to enjoy their rousingly masterful rendition of Treasure Island (I would like to declare for the record that Tim Curry makes the best singing and dancing Long John Silver in the history of the world). What I am trying to say is that the Squid never went through an Elmo phase, and for that I have always been truly thankful. I have always imagined that Elmo is excessively cutesy, annoying, shrill, and not a little self-satisfied with his role as the Conscience of America's Toddlers.
Well, all that changed this morning when I saw him metaphorically bitch slap Pads down a peg or two and tell the cookie creators just what he thought of their efforts. In fact, all three Muppet quickfire judges (let's not forget Cookie Monster and Telly) were just about the most awesome ever to have graced the Top Chef kitchen. Moleskine and I returned to our favorite chair to watch the fun.
Of course, most of the cheftestants claimed to be too highly trained (see Douglas Adams for reference) to have ever baked in their entire lives anything so banal as a cookie. I knew we were in for a ride when Cookie Monster, surveying the subsequent dessert devastation, observed that 'they are just throwing stuff into bowls and hoping for the best!' Oh, dear sweet Cookie Monster, truer words were never spoken by a Top Chef Judge.
The Furry Ones continued their trenchant commentary throughout prep and wreaked not a little mischief on the sweet-making scrappers: Richard took Elmo's advice by attempting to make a treat out of zucchini that Cookie Monster dryly pointed out 'was not technically a cookie' (way to go, CM, with the middle school vocabulary!) while all three heckled Dale mercilessly for the use of potato chips in his batter. Telly, it transpired, has a keen palate for texture while Elmo seemed to be more interested in visual appeal: we rewound and rewatched the Little Red Rogue's description of Antonia's 'cow chips' about thirty-two times. Oh, Elmo, no you didn't!
But the very best part was their response to Pads' attempt at educating the troops on the origin of spices and other culinary trivia. I am aware that she's a new mother and all, and therefore probably has pedagogy on the brain. I know she's always wanted to come across to viewers an an intellekshooal. Nonetheless, her cringe-making attempts to catechize the Tickly Trio soul-satisfyingly backfired like Leo the Mailman's delivery truck. The Marvelous Monsters just weren't having it: when Elmo dismissed her with a 'TMI' and a disdainful wave of his skinny little arm, turning his back on her erudition, Moleskine and I wept with joy. It was beyond priceless.
The Cuddly Critics seemed to have a beneficial effect on at least one competitor: Dale, miffed at their disapproval of his cookie ingredients, bit his tongue and refrained from talking back in his usual profanity-laden way. The judges rewarded him with the win (potato chips and all) and the Tuff One TH'd, with a tear in his eye, that the quickfire had been one of his top three experiences ever.' You and me both, Dale - I am now a bona fide Elmo groupie.
The Tar-zhay elimination challenge that followed was notable only for the fact that the superstore's appliances (and bottled spice blends, apparently) were so crappy that all most of the chefs could manage was soup. Dale's earlier reincarnation as a benevolent sufferer-in-silence provided sufficiently good karma for him to win the day - the most competitive, belligerant, and hard-to-get-along-with culinary contender converted to sweetness and light by the Muppets.
Oh, the power of Sesame Street.
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