Got it now, conspiracy theorists? "Heart" does not mean "nice rack". "Soul" does not mean "looks like Jennifer Aniston". The woman is GOOD. How many times does she have to prove it? Give her the respect she deserves.
Back at the ranch -- with the country's premier seafood chef in attendance -- it was time to cook up a whole mess a' elk for some rodeo dudes. Why, exactly? I don't know. Is the rodeo a major sponsor? I doubt it. While former rodeo clowns constitute a major part of MY show's demographic (they like to watch on satellite from their meth labs), I don't really know what they were doing in the semi-finals of a cooking competition. It was confusing. Not just to me -- but to the contestants. Were these REAL cowboys? Or post-ironic cowboys?
Dale and Hung seemed particularly baffled; Dale not sure if they'd show up in ass-less chaps demanding Bellinis -- and Hung simply deciding to cook for the judges. Casey, a Texan, appeared comfortable and in her element, while Brian embraced the beast in its entirety, putting on his suspiciously-at-hand cowboy hat (what did he have THAT along for -- all season?), startin' a campfire of burning sage and morphing seamlessly into Walter Brennan. I don't know on what range cowboys get frequent hankerin's for Gorgonzola -- but I'll leave that till later. I'm sorry to fixate on this -- but in my long experience of travels and frequent book tours, REAL cowboys these days are more likely to be found eating at Chili's or Cinnabon than gnawing on elk jerky. But what do I know about the mysterious ways of television?