Yes, Chef.

This is a chicken quiche with cremini mushrooms, baby spinach, and feta cheese.

Unbelievable.

Well, Drew, I have a huge problem with this dish.

It's that you haven't made it for me sooner.

Thank you, Chef.

Because if you had, Drew, then I would know how good you are at cooking food that's bad.

I'm sorry, Chef.

And when I say bad, I mean Michael Jackson bad.

Thank you, Chef.

You know how he looked really, really bad at the end of his life?

Chef, I'm sorry.

I don't know if you like the dish or not.

You don't know if I like the dish or not?

Well, let's put it this way: pat your fucking knives, get out, you're off the show.

Sorry, Chef.

Because you should be working in the finest restaurant in the world.

Thank you, Chef.

Just not any world that I live in.

Sorry, Chef.

Because frankly, Drew, I'm jealous of you.

Thank you, Chef.

And your ability to not give a shit about what you cook.

This is not fit for human consumption.

No, this should be eaten by a higher life form with a more complex palate, but also an altruistic drive to save humanity from dishes like this.

Joking.

Not!

You deserve to die!

Ow!

Ow!

So you won't have to endure a life in which you will never exceed what you have achieved here today.

Thank you, Chef.

In conclusion...

Eh.