Matchstick. Amanda suggests they use rosemary because it's such a popular herb "right now," and Marcela whips up a rosemary-lime vinaigrette. The team tastes and seems to like it. "You can't just like it, you've got to love it -- tell me what you need!" Marcela commands. She is such a chef. "I think it's fine," Ryan says, wandering off. "I don't like the word 'fine' at all," Marcela mutters. Their dressing is set.

The teams unload their crates of freshly mass-produced Wishbone dressing. Aw, you mean we don't get to see it being made at the factory? I love that Picture, Picture crap. I thought it was so cool on last year's Apprentice when they were actually physically making the gelato and the candy bars. Matchstick sells their dressing for three dollars and forty-nine cents at the Yonkers Stew Leonard's. The store's promo banner tells us that you can use the vinaigrette as a dip, dressing, or marinade. The Matches demo the salad dressing and seem to impress people. "Nice tang," one guy says, "it seems to have a bit of spunk to it!" "I don't think I'd want someone using the word 'spunk' to describe my dressing," Head Cheese comments. One customer asks Marcela, "Will you come over and cook for me?" Marcela bugs her eyes and says, "I live in Mexico -- it's a long drive!" All the Matches keep telling Marcela how awesome she is. We get shots of Marcela speaking Spanish to a customer (of course) and being very animated about explaining and selling the dressing. "Marcela was on fire," Dawna says. "She felt in control, she was confident, and I literally just wanted to hug her and tell her what a great job she was doing. Thank goodness we picked her, whether it was last or first, thank goodness we had her on our team." Well, that's nice, considering that after Marcela made the vomitgrette, you were the one who said she needed to be watched.

Over at the other Stew Leonard's, Primarius pushes their Asian vinaigrette. "Don't be shyyyy, give it a tryyyy!" Hateful Jim bellows like a singularly retarded carnival barker. Primarius decided to price their vinaigrette at three dollars and ninety-nine cents. Since they're in Connecticut, they thought they could get away with it. I don't know, I mean, it's Wishbone -- the name doesn't exactly scream "high end," you know? "Asian Vinaigrette! Have you tried it yet?" Hateful Jim asks no one in particular while flipping a bottle around. "It's been known to cure warts." Man, that's just gross. What's next -- it has powdered rhino horn in it for virility? "Who wants to give it a try? No obligation to buy, sir, we'll just browbeat you until you do -- wooo!" Hateful Jim blithers. Carrie seems to be rolling her eyes at Hateful Jim. We get a close-up of the bottle, and Hateful Jim's heroic graphics seem to consist of an Asian-y font for the name of the dressing and a drawing of a bowl of salad with chopsticks stabbed into it. Howie wonders to Sarah if Hateful Jim's actually trying to sell or if he's just being loud. "Just trying to make a lot of noise," Sarah responds, "just to make it look like he's working." Aw, yeah, they've got the size of him! Howie confesses that their sales are going well, but that Hateful is being crass in his sales approach. I love Howie. We get a disturbingly tight shot of Hateful's mouth and that mole that wants to see its name in lights. "A little taste of heaven right here on earth. Come on, try before you die," Hateful Jim orders as a browsing elderly customer is cut in the shot. "Massage the wife's feet -- she'll love it. She'll love it," Hateful Jim babbles. Is he saying the dressing goes well with toe jam? "Screw the dressing -- I want to know what those Star Wars Fruit Snacks are behind Sarah," Mathra comments.