Guess the bosomy one must not be working out so well as the human Scratch N Match. Her new employer has taken a turn toward testosterone with its “sexiest chefs” contest, and whatever the candidates got for their souls, it cannot be enough to compensate for being labeled “culinary cuties” or “diamond in the roughage” (did one of them shit a gem?) Even Careme, who did everything but jump naked out of a vol-au-vent in his time, must be cringing in his marzipan grave over the hoops chefs have to backflip through for celebrity anymore. Judging by the stud-wannabe photos, next the paper will be making them whip out their salumi to see which one inches circulation up. Maybe Molto can blog it.