Previously on The Weepy Gourmet, Lee's dish was so gosh-darn good Joe Bastianich ordered everyone to taste it so they could savor their own inferiority. Slim's dish was not good, and she was sent home. Also, she was tried in absentia for crimes against crab-manity. Then, the amateur chefs catered a wedding because the happy newlyweds are apparently dunces who can be talked into anything. Both Tracy and Jake were made to pay for their sins. Who will fall tonight as the six remaining cooks are winnowed down to four? The excitement is almost too much for me to keep watch -- thank God, Television Without Pity fitted me with these leg irons, making escape all but impossible. So what's your excuse?
Credits! Whizzy faces! Oversized novelty checks! Cookbooks! Whoosh!
Gordon confirms that we are indeed down to six chefs, thereby eliminating any suspense that Faruq was going to leap out of the pantry and scare the bejesus out of everyone. To kick off the last Mystery Box Challenge, Gordon paraphrases poet-statesman-wrestler Ric Flair and reminds them that to be the best, they've got to beat the best. You know the drill: One hour to cook a dish using nothing but the ingredients in that box, winner gets an advantage in the next competition, blah blah blah fish sauce. Now, let's lift those boxes and see what's underneath. It would be so totally fitting if it were, in fact, fish sauce. It's not -- it's a rack of venison. "The most tender, flavorful rack of venison," Joe says, with about an atom's worth of the enthusiasm Gordon usually puts into pimping the ingredients. Sheetal points out that her mother wouldn't be too pleased with that ingredient. Hey, it's not like you had to go pump a slug or two into Bambi, so already it's an improvement over last week for you. The remaining ingredients: blueberries, bacon, red cabbage, quail eggs, fingerling potatoes, striped beets, hazelnuts, Brussels sprouts, and red wine. So, who's whipping up a breakfast cereal, then?
Let's get cooking, shall we? Whitney is working on her roasted Brussels sprouts and enthusing about how she's used to cooking deer. "I'm a southern girl," she giggles, "and in Mississippi, we eat deer like it's going out of style." What you don't know? "Deer" is her nickname for "drifters." Sheetal is trying her hand at a blueberry wine sauce, but is understandably concerned about not being that experienced a hand at cooking meat. David says dreary, self-congratulatory things that I don't feel like typing.