The third episode of Top Chef: Texas opened up in the Top Chef house, with Beverly Kim affixing a sheet she had printed out to the bedroom mirror. It reads, in like 36 pt. Arial, “Congratulations, Beverly Kim Clark!!!! You have won Top Chef Season 9 and $125,000!!!!!”

Aside from the 9 exclamation points, it’s brutally antiseptic and devoid of any feeling whatsoever. In a voiceover Kim tells us in a gratingly quivering voice that, “If I can believe it, I can achieve it, and… I’m just going to keep telling myself that.” Well you go right ahead. You just go right ahead.

Maxing out with Chuy Valencia and Austin’s own Paul Qui we find the opposite of Kim in Keith Rhodes. He’s explaining how he spent the night snuggling throw pillows because he misses the company of his special lady (okay he said wife, but it sounded so much like “special lady”) and in his get-to-know-you-voiceover Rhodes tells us in his deep, smooth, Southern drawl that he spent some time in prison as a young man but that “cooking saved [his] life.” This James Beard finalist is here “to compete against some other guys that think they’re the top chefs in their area too.”

Unfortunately, at this point in the era of reality television programming, we have to recognize that that kind of sentiment must be heard as foreshadowing. Unless a contestant has Kim’s scratch-your-eyes-out sense of want, they’re probably not long for our living rooms.

Our final shot in the contestant’s house offers the third competition show archetype – the team. We see Chris Jones and Richie Farina of Chicago’s Moto—the Pink Team!—and hear Jones (he of the hachimaki) explain how they’re “brothers in arms”: though they are, in the strictest sense, competing, that they will carry on just like they’re back at home in Chicago, bouncing ideas off of and helping one another along. Richie seems the weaker link, and we’re left with the feeling that when he and Jones inevitably have to compete head-to-head (or hachimaki to hachimaki) that he will fall first.

Quickfire

In the Top Chef kitchen the chefs find Padma standing next to an aquarium and crates lined up on the tables. For this Quickfire, they’ll be cooking up some rattlesnake, because outside of the shots between scenes of a sign advertising 2 for $.99 bean tacos and a guy dancing in a luchador mask, Top Chef hasn’t done a lot to earn the $400,000 it was reportedly given by the Texas Department of Tourism and Economic Development.

After the requisite fits of herpetophobia and Grayson staking her annoying claim on this challenge to prove herself, we are introduced to the guest judge, Johnny Hernandez of San Antonio’s La Gloria. Well-known for his cooking of wild game, Hernandez explains the how-to’s of cooking rattlesnake.

“It’s a delicate meat that can take a lot of spices, but one that requires a gentle touch,” he explains. Is he not going to tell them that the disemboweled body snake will slither out of an ice bath, and so the bath must be tightly covered? Or that a decapitated rattlesnake head can bite for hours after its been removed? Tell them all, just please don’t tell Grayson.

The chefs open the crates to find that the snakes have been bled and skinned, which is no fun at all. Within minutes Richie’s getting help from Sarah Gruenberg of Chicago’s Spiaggia. Farina is breaking down the snake meat a la Chef Stone and Gruenberg explains, “You gotta cut it into sections, Richie. Break it down into smaller pieces so you can work with it.” Hi, obviously.

“Richie’s style is like ‘fun and whimsy,’” she tells us, “and the total opposite of what I cook.” Her background in Italian cuisine moves her to “keep things very simple,” because “that can really be the best tasting dish.” In this short exchange our suspicions about Richie have been confirmed, and Gruenberg has established herself as the kind of condescending, two-faced competitor that like Beverly Kim will be in this competition much longer than many would like to see.

Padma calls time and she and Chef Hernandez make the rounds. There are a few standout dishes. Beverly Kim’s rattlesnake nigiri seems inventive and looks delicious, as does Paul Qui’s BBQ rattlesnake with peaches, fried peanuts, and Southeast Asian spices, but it’s starting to seem like there are a lot of one-trick ponies at this rodeo. Qui makes Southeast Asian street food at its best, but is that really the right preparation in this instance? Dakota’s up after Qui and provides us with an answer. “If I think rattlesnake, I think beer,” she says, in a dazzling display of free-association, explaining her tempura-beer battered rattlesnake, warm succotash salad, and zucchini-almond gazpacho.

Keith made a sweet corn rattlesnake griddle cake that it seems was as pleasurable to hear about as it was to eat. While Padma asked Chef Hernandez if it was alright to double dip Rhodes’ accompanying beer battered rattlesnake crudité in his tequila-poblano queso fondue, I didn’t have to ask anyone if I could rewind the DVR once or thrice to hear Keith rattle off his dish’s name in the earnest, Barry White bass that has endeared him so deeply to me.

While Richie offers the judges his grilled jerk-seasoned rattlesnake with roasted corn, Chris Jones looks on, smiling and standing tall like a proud parent. Once again he’s wearing sunglasses on his head and glasses on his face, and when coupled with his expression, the look mutates from possible hipster affectation to clueless parent style. I’m hoping that the look goes before Richie does, but the results of the Quickfire make it seem like it won’t happen in just that order.

“The goal of the challenge was to showcase rattlesnake,” Chef Hernandez explains, and falling short of that goal were Nyesha, Richie, and Paul. Nyesha’s snake was overcooked, while Richie’s was overpowered with citrus flavors. Paul’s plate exhibited a great display of color and showed solid technique, but the Southeast Asian flavors overpowered the delicate meat. Hernandez’s opinion was that Qui “played a little maybe to [his] personal style.” It will be interesting to see how Qui will adapt in upcoming episodes, given this criticism (and perhaps even more interesting to see how he’ll bring what he’s learned to Austin).

In the top three were Beverly’s “elegant” nigiri, Dakota’s “good nod to Texas” fried rattler, and Sarah’s simple snake preparation. In the end Dakota’s "good nod" earned her the $5,000 and immunity for the elimination challenge, and hopefully started earning Top Chef production their $400k.

Elimination Challenge

After announcing Dakota as the winner, the terms of the elimination challenge were given. The chefs were split into two teams (Green and Pink) after pulling knives from the Top Chef butcher block and told that a chef from the losing team would be eliminated. The challenge? Cooking elegant Mexican for the quinceañera of Blanca Flores.

(I’ve got to figure out how to get Top Chef to cater one of my parties. I mean, seriously?! 16 of the country’s best chefs cooking for your 15th birthday? Not since Best Coast’s video for “Boyfriend” have I wanted a quince this bad, so, at all.)

The Green Team meets with Blanca first and is unofficially led by Chuy, who grew up "halfway between Mexico and California." He might be short on geography but he's got the cuisine down. He knows all the right questions to ask, even though he never got to have a quince himself.

At 15 “boys are just taught to slaughter a goat,” he explains, but this is information that will prove handy nonetheless, as the Green Team decides on a menu that includes cabrito. The Pink Team has Chuy-Light in Lindsay Autry, who lived in Mexico for three years while working for Top Chef regular Michelle Bernstein. The first dish Blanca asks for is cochinita pibil, or pork shoulder cooked in banana leaves. It was Autry’s first food love in Mexico.

With a budget of $1,500 the two teams are off to shop. Each splits between Top Chef sponsor and Texas-born Whole Foods Market and the Mexican meat market Culebra. It seems like Beverly Kim has ended up in the wrong store, because she’s looking for kimchi. Lots of kimchi. From Culebra she asks her teammates at Whole Foods for six jars of the brand with the “Korean lady’s face” on the front, while pointing to her own. Oh a Korean lady’s face. Got it. Except wait, you want kimchi to prepare something for a quince? Hopefully this sends her home.

There’s also trouble brewing with the Pink Team. To save a dollar a pound Lindsay leaves it up to those at Culebra to purchase the shellfish, which she is going to prepare as a shrimp cocktail. There’s about four members of the Pink Team at the meat counter, and when Keith orders fully cooked shrimp, no one says a thing, except for Chris Crary, who gives him the go-ahead. Keith explains that he got pre-cooked shrimp to save time and money, which are considerations that a chef running a restaurant has. But not a chef in a cooking competition. I mean, Keith's my guy, but this is a pretty big misstep on his part, and it will come back to haunt him.

We cut back to the Green Team at the meat counter at Culebra, and Beverly Kim is running around yelling like there’s a baby on fire. “I’m sorry we need to get someone here please,” she exclaims, “this is very, very important!” She runs around 3 of her teammates and screams, “This is the most important dish here!”

Yeah, no. Most important dish.

What she’s just yelled out settled in on her at about the same speed it did the audience, and she spins around to her teammates and says, “I’m sorry, I know you all have stuff to do, but this is, this is the most important.” Is. This woman. Serious. Without missing a beat she spins back around and tells the butcher to just start piling up the short ribs she so urgently needs, and with four minutes to go the last purchases are being made, including prepackaged flour tortillas. What is it with these people? Why do they not think that anyone will be able to taste the difference? The judges have been selected expressly for their ability to taste the difference. Take the high road, take the long road, or stay home.

Back in the Top Chef Kitchen it’s not long before the issue of the shrimp comes up. Lindsay opens the bag of shrimp and looks at the already cooked crustaceans like they’re mutilated body parts, and Chris wastes no time in letting her know it was “all Keith.” It was not “all Keith,” you weird ferret with a bad hair cut. He asked you and you said go for it. Granted Keith should have known that precooked shrimp were an absolute no-no; I mean, he is a seafood chef. Seriously? Keith's my guy, but this mistake is a little hard to understand. No one wastes any time trying to understand it, immediately commencing with smack talk, taking every opportunity to hang Keith out to dry.

Lindsay and Sarah are bitching in the key of schoolyard mean girl and whispering behind his back. I feel like Keith maybe hasn’t told them about the prison thing. He loses all the teddy bear in his voice when he says, “I see Lindsay, and she over there talking shit. Is it me with the team, or is my team against me?” I know Keith's going to take the high road on this one, but it is fun to imagine him getting a little jailhouse justice on these two harpies.

Prep time ends with little word from the Green Team, who’s resting heavily on Chuy’s tasting to ensure that they can deliver authentic elegant Mexican cuisine.

Back at the house, Keith’s calls for input continue to fall on deaf ears. Everyone keeps agreeing with him even though he’s offering options that are beginning to border on being amateurish. He keeps asking for input and no one disagrees with him. “I don’t well with a bunch of BS,” Keith says in voiceover, with an air of resignation beginning to come through in his commentary. “I’m just hoping to wash this all away tomorrow, and win this contest.” I know they won't tell you Keith, so I will: It doesn't work that way on reality TV.

The tasting at the quinceañera begins with Ty-lör’s fire-roasted summer fritter with avocado mousse. “It was good but you couldn’t even really taste the avocado,” offers Bianca, who has in thirty seconds offered more culinary insights in one episode than Padma has all season. “It was very dry,” says Tom. Hugh Acheson, looking dashing in nubuk lace-ups (no seriously) criticizes, “I mean it’s a hush puppy, what do you want.” You can’t make food that’s boring, Ty-lör. The jokes just write themselves.

The rest of the passed appetizers leave plenty of room for criticism. Richie’s carnitas made his chicharróns soggy, and Keith and Lindsay’s pork huarache is too hard to eat. “We’re still struggling with execution. We’re still struggling with presentation. ” Paul’s ceviche is a highlight, and it seems that the Green Team is pulling ahead.

During the Pink Team’s entrée round there’s much consternation over poor Keith’s enchiladas. While he did well flavor-wise, he used a flour tortilla instead of the traditional corn. “Like it or not,” says Chef Acheson, “Keith’s made a burrito.” The rest of the dishes leave a lot to be desired, from Nyesha’s mealy ceviche to Lindsay and Sarah’s lackluster cochinita pibil. Ty-lör’s carne asada was a win, but Chris’ corn salsa was the round’s winning dish, which is a shame, because Chris sucks and was mean to Keith.

The Green Team’s entrée round goes much better, with everything from Edward Lee’s tomatillo gazpacho with watermelon, jicama, & pork rinds to Chris Jones’ green chile, mushroom & oxaca cheese empandas earning great reviews from the judges and guests alike. The best of the group were Chuy’s braised goat birria, with cabbage, red peanut salsa & handmade queso fresco, and Beverly’s Korean-Mexican fusion of tequila marinated beef short rib asada with pink kimchi. “Sounds like a food truck,” says Tom with a smile, which officially makes that a compliment. The least favorite plate came from my least favorite contestant. “Mole is a very elegant sauce when it’s done properly,” Chef Hernandez explains, “It needs a skilled hand.” Grayson’s pulled chicken mole was mushy, according to the judges, and the guests agreed. “The chicken tasted like cinnamon,” says Blanca, wearing an incredulous expression like only a 15 year old can.

Though Michelle started out as a pastry chef, her experience proves no match for the heat of a Texas kitchen at the end of service. Her tres leches cake is sliding hard to the side, and it looks like it was served without a moment to spare. What she lacked in style she made up for in flavor, with Dakota’s overfrosted cake falling just short of Michelle’s messy tres leches.

The Green Team is not surprisingly named the winner, but that’s okay with Keith. “People loved our food,” he tells a barely-listening Sarah. “I know it’s the judges that matter, but I feel happy about that.” Keith’s showing himself to be more and more defenseless as each minute passes, and when he says he’s nervous to go in front of the judges it’s not hard to second the feeling.

Judge’s Table

“This is my first judge’s table,” whines Sarah, “and I don’t know what to expect. I’m worried because whenever you take on a leadership role, you have to be ready to sink with the ship.” It’s this kind of deeply un-self-aware sentiment that makes this kind of TV so addictive, but in this case it feels especially wrong. It would be really nice if Sarah would tuck Lindsay into bed like that mom in Titanic and both go down with the ship. But it just isn't going to happen that way.

Sarah explains that they didn’t use their menu planning time wisely, and Lindsay that they should have chosen a leader. But… in the… Sarah said… she was… going down.. with the.... Oh. So instead of going down with the ship Sarah takes the first opportunity to bring up the shrimp, and Keith stands right up and confesses. He says that the pressure got to him and he was thinking about food and labor costs. It’s a solid enough argument with the exception of one thing — those the only two things that don’t figure into this competition. Hugh feels for Keith but ultimately sides with Lindsay and Sarah, even though their cochinita was so lackluster. Even Ty-lör’s boring fritter gets blamed on Keith, as the stand in for the shrimp cocktail Keith made it so impossible to serve. He had so little time to prep and cook it, Ty-lör explains, because Keith, Keith! Keith. “Certainly that wasn’t the reason it was dry,” pushed Colicchio, which forces Ty-lör to admit it was just a “cooking failure.”

But it’s impossible for Keith to escape the spotlight, with the judges returning to his use of flour tortillas in his enchiladas. In his region, Keith explains, he’s never seen an enchilada with a corn tortilla. Sarah chimes in with a story about how having grown up in Texas, she had never once, never ever even one time, seen an enchilada made with flour tortillas. When Padma rightly inquires about the long-forgotten team element of the challenge, Sarah wells up with tears, committing the worst reality show villain move of all time – crying when you’re called to task, and denying responsibility for everyone else’s mistakes. She is grade-school evil (there is nothing more evil than a second-grader) and conniving, and it seems like the judges are buying it. Keith isn’t. “You love driving the bus… and hitting people.” He is just too pure for this world.

When making their decision about who to send home, the contestants’ resumes are considered more than their dishes are, and ultimately it’s Keith that’s told to pack his knives and go. Sarah’s on notice, and so is Lindsay, but at this point the field is so wide that they’ll probably have a chance to redeem themselves.

Before he leaves the stew room, in a masterful display of poetic justice, Keith pulls the girls in for a hug and tells them he loves them, and forces them to lie to his face just one last time as they say “I love you,” back.

Hopefully Lindsay, Sarah, and Chris Crary's chickens will come home to roost, but in the meantime we'll just be left with the hole in our hearts, once filled by the most soulful man to ever grace a Top Chef kitchen.