Let me preface this post with one thing: having just been out to 100-degree Las Vegas for a bachelorette party, trust me when I say that you do not want to be doing any sort of cooking (or eating) in that weather. Period. So I have to give props to the chefs for breaking brunch down canape-style for Holly and her Playboy crew -- and managing to stay focused for that matter.
If only I could say the same for the judges. For once in my Vegas party girl career, I was outdone by James, who like a hormonal Lance Burton managed to get the guys' shirts off in the blink of an eye. The two of us tag-teamed any party poopers during cocktail hour, coaxing them out of their shells—and their clothes. And as you saw, it was worth it.
But all those washboard abs weren't the only eye candy around. Some of the dishes were downright stunning: Lorena's Venezuelan buñuelos (which I had to repeatedly coach Curtis to pronounce properly in his darling Aussie accent) were little fried gifts fit for the gods, and even the dieting Playboy bunnies couldn't turn them down. Then there was Art's burger, which defied the oh-so-dry reputation that the turkey burgers have come to carry. His drop biscuits, were doubtably bikini body-conscious, but totally worth the carbs. And then there was Chris' tuna bacon dish with compressed watermelon, which was just plain smart. Perhaps it was bit too complex for the audience, but I loved its cerebral boldness. The mushiness of the tuna, melon, and tomato could have used some crunch though, as I mentioned at Critics' Table, but other than that I thought it was clever of him to cook to the occasion.