It was a fine and fortunate thing that the hapless crews of "Restaurant April" and Le "Garage" got free passes this week -- as a good argument could be made that any number of cheftestants would have been a prime candidate for the chopping block.

The elimination criteria, as I understand it, runs along the lines of "What Have You Done For Me TODAY." You may have been terrific yesterday -- and the day before -- but if you screw up big time today -- bigger time than the guy who's been skating along all season (not winning but not losing), then it's you that gets thrown over the side. An unfair and unrealistic decision making process? I don't know...

If you've been performing very well as a novice sous-chef at Daniel Boulud's Restaurant Daniel, and then, suddenly, make a horrible botch of even one Saturday night, you're probably not going to be around...

Well, what can I say about last night's episode? I sat down, like everybody else, baited breath, waiting to see who'd do well--and who would have to "pack their knives." I was also waiting to see which Rocco DiSpirito showed up. The breathtakingly-gifted, French-trained chef of three star Union Pacific fame? Or the "thatsa speecy, spicy meatball!" shill-for-hire and ex-reality show personality? I think we all now know the answer to that question. (Though for the first few moments, I thought David Gest had taken his place.)

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It was Joey who paid the terrible price for this unholy exercise in brand expansion/product placement. Little could this chef--of the very fine Cafe des Artistes in New York City--have guessed that he'd ever find himself standing in the aisle of a supermarket, trying to thaw a block of frozen pasta over a hot plate! Or...

Two questions screamed for answers after last night's challenge:

1) If you're a Miami chef, how, how, HOW can you screw up a Cuban sandwich? More to the point: WHY would you?

This week, Howie -- who is perilously close to becoming Mr. Know-It-All -- seems to have been caught transfixed in the headlights of an oncoming snack wagon, and for reasons known only to his phrenologist, decided that the beloved Miami classic, the Cuban sandwich, is not good enough. Worse, after much experience (he says) working in Miami nightclubs, he came to the shocking conclusion that what drunken hordes of clubgoers really want, immediately after spilling off the dance floor, is his creative riff on a classic. Crustier bread! "Better" raw ingredients! An "homage" sandwich, roughly manhandled onto a griddle between unevenly heated sheet pans. No, Howie. No.

What anybody who's even been to a nightclub understands...

It was a fine and fortunate thing that the hapless crews of "Restaurant April" and Le "Garage" got free passes this week -- as a good argument could be made that any number of cheftestants would have been a prime candidate for the chopping block.

The elimination criteria, as I understand it, runs along the lines of "What Have You Done For Me TODAY." You may have been terrific yesterday -- and the day before -- but if you screw up big time today -- bigger time than the guy who's been skating along all season (not winning but not losing), then it's you that gets thrown over the side. An unfair and unrealistic decision making process? I don't know...

If you've been performing very well as a novice sous-chef at Daniel Boulud's Restaurant Daniel, and then, suddenly, make a horrible botch of even one Saturday night, you're probably not going to be around...

A thrilling episode this week, with a surprising and sad ending. In many ways, the last few episodes have (in their own pain-inducing way) better illustrated the skill set you REALLY need to succeed as a Top Chef than straight, head-to-head cookoffs ever could -- how to do things you might not be particularly good at while under pressure. How to get knocked out of your comfort zone -- without warning -- and still soldier through. How to deal with things going wrong all around you -- without losing your cool. How to step up and above your normal responsibilities -- and manage to pull it off.

As most who've spent any time as professional chefs know all too well, the phrases "It's not my job" and "It's unfair" have no real meaning when you're in charge of a kitchen. You may never have anticipated, back in culinary school, that refrigeration and plumbing...

There was rejoicing in TV-land last night, as designated bad guy Howie whiffed on three pitches and was sent home for good. For many who have posted on this site, offended by his petulance, his obstinacy, the veritable Niagara of sweat that flowed freely from his brow, it was none too soon. But...but... what do we do now? With no bad guy?

And was Howie all that bad?

Did we judge Howie too harshly because of his less-than-matinee idol looks? If he sweated less profusely, and looked like a young Brad Pitt, would his words and attitude alone have made him such a compelling target? When I look at Howie, short, bald, pants looking two sizes too big on him, built like a small tank and with an expression on his face like a closed fist, I sense the end product of a long line of tormentors.

Knowing nothing about him, I'm guessing...

Holy crap! Who was that vicious bastard on the judges' panel last night? That angry, mean-spirited snake in the grass...that chained Rottweiler in an ill-fitting jacket, leaning forward on his elbows ready to lunge?

Oh, right. That was me.

So far this year, I've had the dubious honor of helping to boot off the show an extremely likeable, open-hearted orphan with a lilting Southern accent, and now, last night, I got to be part of the hunting party who smashed the hopes and dreams of a cancer survivor. Short of biting the heads off kittens while dressed up as a storm trooper, I don't think I could look any less sympathetic.

Believe me, I'm...I'm not like that in real life. Right after this, in fact, I'm going in to cuddle my adorable baby daughter under the butterfly mobiles in her pink-painted room. Baby talk -- and possibly even singing -- will be...

This week?s episode was my favorite episode to date. It was everything this show should be -- an open highway for the contestants to really show their stuff; a challenge dealing with the first principles of cuisine, and an episode with unimpeachable judging. This was a chance for the contestants to really step up. There would be no cruising along under the radar. You either did it or you didn?t this time around.

Let's start this off by telling you where I'm coming from: As far as I'm concerned, when Andre Soltner evaluates someone's performance in the kitchen, he's speaking from the mountain top. There was, to my mind, no higher authority, no person closer to God, who one might have looked to for judgment on this particular challenge.

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Chef Soltner, for those who might not be fully aware of his history, was the chef/owner...

At this point in the competition, it was a bit of a low blow, dragging the contestants to a trout stream in the freakin' wilderness and making them clean and cook fish over propane for the Quickfire. Something of a come-down after Le Cirque and the French Culinary Institute. I think they deserved better treatment this late in the game and a cleaner shot at the brass ring. And it was a terrible waste of a great judge.

Eric Ripert is probably the greatest seafood chef in the country (one of the greatest chefs -- period, but he famously specializes in seafood). His restaurant, Le Bernardin didn't just get four stars from The New York Times and three stars from the Michelin guide -- it has gotten them EVERY TIME. An unbroken, perfect record going back more than 15 years -- when Eric was suddenly, and unexpectedly called on to step in as chef. To remain as relevant and widely...

Due to the LIVE FINALE, most "Top Chef" blogs will be published later than usual. Check back soon for the new, finale-dishing blogs to be served up!

I gather that Hung won.

Of course, you saw the Olympian struggle, the final, mountain-top face-off before I did. Security was so sphincter-tight in Bravo-land that even a man of known virtue and impeccable reputation such as myself was not allowed an advance peek at the previously taped combat. And where I am, I couldn't catch the live bits. I'm writing this, days later, from my favorite pub in London, The Festering Ferret, where, in between pints -- and bites of meat pie, I finally laid eyes on this historic clash of the titans -- via bootleg download.

Hung won. Not a big surprise for me -- but for many viewers, apparently, a kick in the stomach. I think the right contestant won. And as importantly, I think that Hung's well deserved victory is a nice, stiff middle finger to all those boneheads who've been predicting that "The producers are setting it up...