The chefs start packing up their dishes. Miguel wonders how Stephen managed to steam his tamales so fast. "I'm the fucking man, brother," Stephen responds. Well, you're the fucking something. Lisa's concerned because she was unable to chill and season her pasta properly and she couldn't get to the grill to cook her chicken. Dave complains that he barely got his lasagna noodles done before he had to "slop" them into the individual trays, he adds, "And Harold and Stephen had some banter, you know, kind of slamming what I was making." In the kitchen, we see Stephen and Harold whispering together and Harold says, "The magical lasagna." Oh, Harold, why did you have to go and descend to the tenth level of Stephen? Time expires and Candice and Andrea wonder what's wrong with Dave. Dave tells us that he doesn't need no magical lasagna shit, "I'm done with him and Stephen, you know, they can go make out somewhere because I'm just over it. I'm pissed."

The next day, the chefs pull up at a big ol' mansion, and the Katie Leebot stands there in her black Jackie O glasses and dress and reminds us of their mission to product place the KENMORE microwaves. Chefferson is back as a judge along with the usual suspects. The chefs unpack. Andrea was confident because she knew the women were between the ages of twenty-five and forty, her core audience. "It's become clear that this competition is not totally about cooking technique -- you need to have the total package, you need to be able to serve your product, you need to be, you know, personable," Harold tells us. Miguel tells us, "I feel very confident in the dish I prepared -- no matter if the president sat to it or a homeless sat to it, they would both enjoy themselves. It was nothing fancy, it was simply good food." In the fancy kitchen, Andrea jokingly asks, "Can I practice how to use this thing?" about the microwave. Apparently, she hasn't used one in TEN YEARS. How the hell does she make microwave popcorn with the Agent Orange cheese sauce? Candice worries what the microwave will do to her dish, "It might make it better, 'cause it's eggs and cream." As usually, I don't follow Candice's meandering chain of thought. Stephen tells Miguel that he's never had a TV dinner. Miguel's surprised, "Really?" "No, of course not," Stephen confirms. Miguel shrugs at Stephen's "of course not," and adds, "I'm sorry you didn't get to experience that." Do you think Stephen was ever, you know, a kid? Or did he spring, fully suited-up from his mother's head? "You'd eat anything, wouldn't you?" Stephen asks Miguel. I don't really like his tone here. It's sneering and taunting. Miguel says he'd give everything a shot. Spoken like a true chef. "I'm sure you were the kind of guy -- your family sat together and ate right?" Miguel asks. "Of course," Stephen ponces again. There's no "of course" about that, Stephen. God, did you ever look around you and realize there's an entire world out there? Stephen asks why Miguel and his family didn't eat together. "'Cuz I grew up in a single-parent home. My mother worked eight hours a day and came home and whatever she put together, that's what we ate and then we got to homework and then it was bedtime," Miguel says, wiping the self-satisfied grin right off Stephen's face. "Nothing wrong with that, man," Stephen says, trying to clamber down from his ivory tower and be all plebian with his "man."