Amuse-Biatch Photoessay: Who Says That Chivalry Is Dead?

Just imagine it, possums. For once, a man who’ll free you from crabs rather than give them to you in the first place.

Holy Crab! Not Content to Massacre Cute Little Lambs, Ariane Duarte Moves on to Sebastian the Crab

Well, possums, there it is, photographic evidence, courtesy of tipster-possum Christine, that the Silencer of the Lambs herself was, indeed, on Iron Chef. According to Christine (we still haven't seen the show, since we don't have TiVo; but that may change, since the noTiVos are getting restless), Ariane "kind of f-ed up a dish (pan was too hot, ended up burning the crab and having to start the dish over)," and the photo above depicts Amanda Freitag and the other sous-chef "checking out the damage of the burnt crabs."

News from the Department of Now-We’ve-Heard-Everything: An Eric Ripert-Catered “Top Chef” Bat Mitzvah

Fish man and panty-dropper (redundant?) par excellence, sometime Top Chef guest judge Eric Ripert is visiting our fair shores while on a book tour. Our pal Lesley of Eater LA and Betty Hallock at the bankrupt L.A. Times both snagged interviews with Coquille St. Jacques the Ripert, and collected the French-accented pearls that fell from his pillowy, piscine lips. One bit from the Times interview left us just a teensy bit gobsmacked:

One guy rented out the entire restaurant for his daughter's bat mitzvah. His daughter is a big fan of "Top Chef" and we set her party up like the show. He flew in a chef from an obscure restaurant in Maryland and we did crab cakes. There were 15 girls on my team and 15 girls on his team. His crab cakes were phenomenal. He kicked my .... !

Miss XaXa’s first reaction: “Eric Ripert gave crabs to 15 teenaged girls?”

“They were probably Reform,” we tried to reassure her, not bothering to clarify the antecedent.

What struck us, aside from the whole Gilded Age excess of the thing (and which now seems so long ago), was Ms. Hallock’s delicacy. Go on, Betty; surely on the day that parent company Tribune filed for bankruptcy protection you can allow yourself a tiny three-letter word.

Besides, what with Ripert’s melted-Échiré-butter accent, it likely wasn’t even “ass.” Rather, we suspect he said, “aws,” or maybe “ahs,” as in oohs and ahs (or is it ooze and ahs?)

As it is, we can’t wait for the episode that will feature Ripert and Fabio Viviani going acento a acento in the lambent interior of Le Bernardin. Viewers will swoon, and knickers will fly.