Gordon Ramsay's Bleep-O-Fucking-Meter: 50
Oh, people -- this is going to get good. I'm talking first-season-of-Hell's Kitchen good.
We're in Babylon, New York (Long Island) and the family restaurant in dire need of Gordon Ramsay's fork-tender ministrations is called "Peter's Italian Restaurant." Tina, the sister/daughter of the family, announces that she's the owner of the joint. Problem is, she tells us, everyone thinks her brother is the owner because he's the host. Yeah, I think the disconnect comes because the name of the place is Peter's Italian Restaurant. So, what does brother Peter do aside from being very, very orange? Very little, as we soon see. He announces to us that a lot of restaurant owners are "married to their business, day and night," but he chooses a more Zen approach and won't walk that path. Like Rocco DiSpirito, he prefers to hobnob and look good. And he doesn't even do that very well. The sous chef, John, tells us he thinks all Peter wants is to be in the next Goodfellas movie. Yogi, the father, is totally Cher's father in Moonstruck, and until he gets knocked onto the pavement by his own son, I have very little interest in him. Except that his name is "Yogi."
In a little "How you doin'" montage, we see how obsessed Peter is with his car, his clothes, his orange skin, his orange skin, and his orange skin. The man is an orange-tang and should be in the zoo. Peter shrugs that instead of buying a new stove, he bought a suit. Chef Robert -- a cross between that guy from Sex and the City who painted Charlotte's vagina and Papa Suresh -- confirms that the kitchen is shit and everything's going to hell. Seriously? Three ovens are crapped out and one of them is being used to store towels. Meanwhile, Peter swaps movie quotes with his favored guests and invites them to pet his clothes. As expected, the restaurant is in serious debt. How serious? Two "bill collectors" and major-fisticuffs-on-the-street serious.