Editor’s note: Today’s recap is provided by our guest commentator, Jane Austen.
I greet you all, fair friends, with pleasure and send compliment to your families. My fair cousin, the Marchioness is indisposed and alas, unable to converse. It would seem that the dastardly congregation of the Duchy of Foxborough and Gillette Park have been most unseemly and foul of character that my cousin has retired to her bedchamber. I shall send the chirurgeon and hopefully poultices and a new pair of shoes will provide solace.
So anon, she has requested that I send you the news of Celebrity Cook Off, Season 2. Two leaders of society have commenced an agreeable parlor game of cookery. One leader is the Duchess of LOUD. Her family is not well connected yet her pronouncements about olive oil have endeared her to many folk. The second leader is not fair of countenance. He is a rotund ill-mannered man who has failed to discern that his spectacles should reside on the front of his head, and not the back. I shall describe him further as Mr. Doughy.
We first meet the participants of this jolly cookery game. A young woman by the name of Chili professes her love of victuals, yet I am disturbed by her inappropriate apparel that looked en dishabille. Perhaps she is just in a traveling costume and will change into something more seemly and maiden-like for tea, then supper, then conversation and games, and then for traveling. Next is a jester who goes by Gilbert and is of a voice so ill and demonic that he provokes melancholy. Our next participant is introduced and is Lord Tori Spelling. He professes to be a ‘culinary genius’ and is shown in the kitchen with his progeny. I presume his family has no footing in society and cannot afford cook to prepare the meals. I thus feel encouragement and kindness towards him. Arriving next to the party is Miss Carny Wilson. She is a performer who has been in many pantomimes and thus all have seen her in everything and have professed fatigue for her theatrics. A man named Hines Ward is next to our lively group. I find him quite comely and would sample his viands at any venue. The Lady Cornelia Guest enters and proclaims herself a socialite. Yet I have not taken note of her when promenading around the drawing room of any notable house. Perhaps she is from the Continent. The Lady Kathy Najimy is next to bring us salutations. She confesses her daughter is a ’vegan’. I own that I do not know this word’s meaning. Perchance she is also from the Continent and thus the word is naturally a mystery to me. Neither she nor the Lady Cornelia will cook with meat. I confess a good leg of mutton stirs the blood and feel sorrow they will not know its’ pleasures. Just when the parlor was bursting with vigorous new acquaintances, another enters! Oh, friends, I am vexed that I am unable to provide language effusive enough to describe our new companion. He is Lord Johnny Weir and is wearing a frock of such wonder and sparkle that I am transported to the Xanadu of Mr. Coleridge’s description. Lord Weir also wears slippers of sparkle and shine and I covet them in a manner that would make our parson blush.
Much palaver ensues when the Duchess of LOUD and Mr. Doughy appear. As when playing Whist or Commerce, the participants form teams, each being captained by the aforementioned Duchess of LOUD and Mr. Doughy. They are informed that each team will provide sustenance at a dinner theatre. I am perplexed. Two salons? Why, even Pemberley would not be of sufficient size to hold such merriment! The meals are prepared yet so many of our companions profess to be losing their faculties that I fear the proper number of courses will not be ready for supper and our industrious friends will suffer shame and gossip. Somehow meals are completed and the butlers and footmen deliver them to the guests. I will be candid and say I puzzled over this sustenance and did not see any jellies, biscuits, soup or trotters among the fare. Not even a fine claret or cordial was given to the guests. Instead dishes by the name of “tumbleweed meatballs” and “S’mores” were served. Prior to each course the teams did a pantomime that was so vexing I immediately took to the divan to ease my distemper. It was not at all a respectable pleasure.
Anon the cookery game comes to a conclusion. The team that emerged victorious was that of Mr. Doughy. The group confesses no astonishment to learn the participant who must leave the estate is the tiresome Gilbert personage. His cookery was of an inferior rank and he is banished. And so my friends the ball reaches its conclusion and the guests retire. I presume the proper speeches and compliments to respective families were given before leaving in their barouches. Myself, I shall partake in a stroll home followed by consumption of Pepto Bismol. Thus, good friends I respectfully take your leave.