Time for the votes to start rolling in from the first trucker who, for lack of a better phrase, was lucky enough to taste burgers from both teams. Trucker No. 1 pulls the Red Team's lever. Either that chipotle barbecue sauce is tastier than anything we can possibly imagine, or we're seeing the first instances of voter fraud so massive that it would make a banana republic dictator blush. One of the truckers calls the Red Team's burger "electric chair food." As in, they should be given the chair for what they've done to your food? Nah, man -- it's the kind of food you'd want to eat as your last meal before getting the electric chair. Presumably for all those drifters you killed during those many, many miles of trucking. But perhaps I've said too much.

Anyway, the votes are knotted up at 17, and Sharone decides to gamble -- let's douse the buns in bacon grease! Apparently, it produces nicely toasted buns. And if the truckers happen to be felled by massive coronaries after casting their votes for the Red Team, well, them's the breaks. At any rate, it's helped the Red Team surge to a lead, trucker arteries be damned. Gordon brings over a bacon for the Blue Team to taste to see if they want to maybe rethink the way they're doing things. "That burger I just tasted was gross," sniffs Jake, who thinks that the whole thing is oversauced and that the bacon is overcooked. His palate must not match that of the truckers, then, because the Red Team is just seven votes from victory. "There is no way that the Red Team had a better burger than the Blue Team," Jake insists. I got a scoreboard that says you're mistaken, friend.

So yeah, the Red Team overcomes its horrible organization and middling teamwork to win the burger cook-off. Credit their adaptability, their secret sauce, and, of course, the all-healing power of bacon. "Our burger was the better burger," Jake continues to say. "The weaker burger won today." Perhaps that mantra will help you in tomorrow's Pressure Test.

Speaking of which, we've left behind that depressing desert for the slightly less depressing confines of the MasterChef kitchen. The Blue Team stands hang-doggedly in front of the judges -- in between them, there's a table covered by one of those black curtains the show's producers apparently bought in bulk. [Or they keep using the same one. Hope they wash it regularly. - Zach] Underneath that curtain: 25 ingredients -- some of which the contestants may recognize, some of which they may not. They'll have to guess as many as they can until they miss; lowest score loses the apron. Clear? OK, Jake, start us off, while the rest of the Blue Team cowers for safety in a soundproof booth.