Tramonto's Steak and Seafood, all appetizing reds and dark woods, looks warm and inviting, if a bit generic. Antonia loves the "beautiful kitchen", but doesn't waste time gazing at the surroundings -- time's started, she says, so pick your proteins, Spike. He has five minutes to make his selections, and starts with the tomahawk chops, a comforting sign of his meaty prowess. He arrived with scallops on the brain, and seizes a bag of frozen scallops in the walk-in, to the surprise of the others -- as Richard says, "He's taking those fucking frozen scallops?" Lisa, also hoping for scallops, sees Spike's choice, thinks they look like crap anyway, and goes for shrimp with a palpable lack of enthusiasm. She'll follow with a New York strip. Antonia grabs an assortment of vegetables and other ingredients, as well as a rib eye, and Stephanie mumbles something to herself about mushrooms and greens as she goes to town with a vegetable peeler and tells the camera that they have three hours to conceive and prepare their dishes. She's doing a tenderloin, she tells Lisa, preceded by an appetizer of sweetbreads -- "the thymus glands of veal" -- there's definitely a psychological barrier to enter, but they are yummy. "Like a chicken McNugget", explains Stephanie.

Lisa, loving the ricer, tells the camera that she's making peanut butter mashed potatoes to go with her steak, which sounds absolutely disgusting -- she wants to show the judges something they haven't seen before, but at some point you have to wonder why, perhaps, peanut butter mashed potatoes have not been seen before. Antonia, julienning vegetables and enjoying the challenge of being dropped into someone's kitchen, given free reign, and told to prepare dinner service, approves of the final challenge. Richard comments on the spontaneity of the whole thing, and explains that he's slicing a fatty piece of hamachi into bacon-like strips, which he'll top with small pieces of sweetbreads, deconstructing a typically Italian dish. Lisa's back is burning, as Antonia has left the wood burning oven door open so that the air can fuel the fire, so it doesn't die. "What if I die?" asks Lisa. "Well then I guess you're not going to Puerto Rico, Lisa", she retorts. You got served, Greasylocks. Lisa admits that her nerves are more intense now -- she doesn't want to be sent packing so close to finals, not after she quit her job and left her life behind to compete.