Jen Zavala. Photo: Bravo

Neck tattoos are the new fauxhawks.

OK, so if you watched last night's season premiere of "Top Chef," that statement might ring a tad premature considering that that most obvious wearer of throat ink ended up being the first to go home.

But if you're looking to Bravo's increasingly popular cooking competition to discern new and exciting trends in the culinary world, you could do worse than to single out "oddly placed chef tats" as this year's food foam.

Relocating to Vegas has seemingly brought out the bad-to-the-bone personas of the 17 brash, mostly young contestants. Or at least that's what their carefully edited, perfectly timed snotty remarks would have us believe.

There's Jennifer, self-proclaimed "bitch in the kitchen" and queen of the "you got a problem with that?" shrug. As long as her dishes continue to be as seemingly spot-on as the bright prawn ceviche she whipped up for the Quickfire challenge, she suits us just fine.

Designated jerk in the group: "Jersey Mike," who managed to denigrate women, cancer survivors and the entire 40-something population in deeming elimination-immune Robin "one less old lady I have to worry about."
And we're still trying to suss out just how much of the Voltaggio brothers' rivalry is for show and how much is for real. Certainly, if we had a backward baseball cap-wearing, punk-ass little brother like Michael around, making culinary jokes about "racks" -- rack of lamb with two coconuts, get it?! -- we'd want to beat him at his own game, too. (Meanwhile, we'll admit that said rack looked delectable.)

Of course, the evening wasn't all piss and vinegar: There was the obligatory comment on Padma's beauty (courtesy of Hector) and the usual tale of hardship and woe (from Haitian refugee Ron).

The generous, leprechaun-like Kevin kept it relatively simple and won the evening with slow-cooked arctic char topped with an unconventional turnip salsa. Meanwhile, it was the sassy, neck-inked Jen who committed the "what were they thinking?" crime you expect to see this early on in the competition: seitan-filled chiles rellenos, which looked about as appetizing as a deflated football stuffed with packing foam. To gauge guest judge Wolfgang Puck's disgust, it didn't taste much better.