Padma gives them thirty minutes to create an "incredible shellfish dish." Food Flurry. We see many shots of people using a corkscrewy tool to wrest the conch meat from his cozy shell. Dale tells us, "I don't really have time to dick around with a conch." I swear I thought he said, "I don't really have time to dick around with a cock," which would seem rather redundant. Micah, who already told us she was looking forward to working with conch, is having serious problems with it. She bangs it with the flat of a saucepan, rather dangerously jams some metal scissors in it and tries to hammer the scissors with the saucepan, and finally attempts the conch-screw, which is absolutely not in the Karma Sutra. Sara N. tells us Micah has been inconsistent throughout the competition. Howie, a HUGE droplet of sweat slinking off the tip of his nose ONTO his food prep, tells us he's doing ceviche. Brian (MALARKEY!) is keeping it simple for once and just doing a butter, garlic, and wine preparation. Hung, making a "whoop-whoop-whoop" noise I haven't heard since the dance scene in Sixteen Candles, runs over to his skillet, and then shuns the white wine idea to us saying, "Yeah, it's simple, but my monkey could do that." You have a monkey? Does he come to work with you? Is his name Marcel? Time ticks down and Howie's nose-sweat continues to bedew his raw, uncooked, not-feeling-the-heat-of-anything-except-his-sweaty-body food. Padma calls time.