"Steven, jacket off, your time is done. Short and sweet. Thank you. Sorry, but I can't go through that again." Steven walks through the doors and towards the light. He says it's embarrassing being the first one kicked off. Probably partly because if he figured if he were going home already, he'd have worn something more than the wifebeater under his chef's jacket. Something with a little more body hair coverage? "It is what is, it's done. Nice guys always finish last, that's probably me," he says.
Ramsay tells the rest of them that Hell's Kitchen is a series of test, and so far they've got a failing grade. "Get a grip. Fast. Got it?" he tells them. "Yes, chef," they say. "Fuck off," he tells them, and the battered, defeated crew trudge off. Monterray tells us he's gotta bring his A-plus-plus-plus game from now on, Krupa's pleased with herself but says she's going to get better, and Brendan persists in his delusion that chef=gangster by saying it's time for him and Paul to go to the mattresses and eliminate Paul sooner rather than later. I'd like to point out to the wannabe that you go to the mattresses with your family and you go to war with your enemy.
Ramsay takes us out by saying he realized early on that Steven had as much chance of being executive chef at BLT Steakhouse as Ramsay has of winning a gold medal in figure skating.
Daniel is a writer in Newfoundland with a wife and a daughter. He urges Jason to write down that recipe for pork tacos before he croaks. Follow him on Twitter (@DanMacEachern) or email him at firstname.lastname@example.org.