With twenty minutes remaining, Frank's plan of quiches isn't going well. "Ideally, to pull of a quiche, I would need an oven," Frank tells us. And that's where Frank's a wank. You pretty much can make quiches only in an oven. So, why the HELL would you choose to make something that was so dependant on a very specific appliance when you were told ahead of time that there was no telling what sort of appliances they would have? Remember Candice's microwaved quiche disaster? Frank has to rethink his shit. Just make a frittata. Seagulls swoop in and start pecking at Frank's ruined crust. "THE SEAGULLS! THE SEAGULLS!" Betty bawls out. SHUT UP!

Elia tells us she's making a waffle concoction with syrup, melted cheese, fried egg, honey, and olive oil. "It tastes really good," she assures the cameras. Mia tells us, "Surfers, you know, they love the ocean, they love seafood, so I think that I chose a winner with the crab cakes Benedict and the mango cream sauce." Do surfers really love seafood? I mean, they smell their fair share of dead fish, and I wouldn't think rotting gills gets all the gastric juices flowing. Plus, surfers pee in the water. She fries crab cakes in a cast iron skillet. Son of Sam glowers and mixes his eggs with a wooden spoon. Throwing air-quotes all over the place, Sam tells us had an idea to do a "Green Eggs and Ham" because he's Sam I Am. Sam I Am a serial killer. Unfortunately, the "green" was a basil pesto that, when added to the eggs, turned them sort of grey. Son of Sam tells us he improvised, changed the name, and went with scrambled eggs, toad-in-a-hole style.

Food flurry. Padmadala, who has ditched her full-length cardigan but is still wearing the shearling vest over her bikini, calls time.

"Surfers" make their way to the fire pits. I really don't know how many of them are real since a lot of them don't even look wet. Betty bitches about so many surfers showing up. They were expecting ten and they're getting forty or fifty. Son of Sam plates up some burned-looking bagels topped with eggs (they've turned the color of oatmeal, which is what I thought it was until I remembered his Seussian pursuits) and a fanned strawberry. I know he's trying to give it some color but strawberries? On top of eggs? Not really. If you want to embrace a culinary cliché, surely a tomato rose would have been much better. Son of Sam tells us rather dead-eyedly that he's freaking out and totally thinks he could get sent home.