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Meglos
HAVE A NECTARINE, GONK
Recap of last night's :
Tonight on MasterChef we learn who is eliminated, who is a chicken and who believes endangered national icons should be eaten. Our recap was there for this turkey to give the contestants the bird.
There are those television shows that depend on cheap tricks to secure ratings. And then there are shows with dignity. MasterChef is one such show. Hence, last night’s episode was about five women, ten birds, and breasts – naked, moist, plump breasts. Breasts. You stay classy MasterChef.
Our adventure begins with a big fancy house where all sorts of people are packing suitcases which is profoundly metaphorical somehow. Then a pair of kooky eye-glasses called Alice reveals she is an intellectual by saying ‘'I am an intellectual’' and proceeding to detail how she comes from a long line of intellectuals. She is the same bird who cooked tongue earlier as a metaphor for how she is also offal. We suspect she will not win this competition. But no-one has cried yet, so it’s anyone’s game.
Oh wait. A woman is crying. She is Davinda and she is upset because she has curled up in a corner under the weight of expectations and it is affecting her a lot. Davinda is divulging this information because a pair of men called Matt and Gary asked her. They are dressed in the latest of clothing fashions which Davinda finds terrifying to the point where cooking scallops well now seems like the only comforting truth she can hang on to in this competition. “Well put that into your mind and have fun,” Gary says before turning his good grooming on the blonde called Julia who cooks cupcakes and asks whether she’s always been this good at everything.
Yes, she has, she says, and that seems to make sense. So we move on to the announcement of tonight's eeeelllliiiiimmmmmaaaannnaasssshhunchallenge!
“Tonight’s challenge is about protein which is not pork, but the second most popular protein in the world, the other white meat we know as - poultry!” Matt says, prompting viewers in the Papua New Guinean highlands to eat their televisions. They weren’t survey sets, so we proceed. Gary reveals the schadenfreude ensuing thusly will involve contestants trying to guestimate the identity of ten bits of mystery poultry put before them on pain of sudden-death cook-off. This audio is transmitted through the belly of a Highlander and they all begin to regret their hasty decision. Meanwhile Gary and Matt lift lids to reveal ten birds, plucked, bound, and headless.
Blonde Julia says she is ‘'overwhelmed'’ by the sight, Davinda is overwhelmed in general, and Debra is a vegetarian who feels the need to express as much by confirming poultry actually isn’t really something she cooks and she, yes, she hasn’t really eaten gamier birds either. Stunned silence is broken by the Alice Glasses, which say they can pretty much recognise every single bird before them but, on an intellectual level, deduces that the judges will probably do something crafty to try to trip them up. Which is fine because Alice is basically a genius.
Anyway, Gary, filled with excitement and vigour, puts his head almost onto the first nude birdie and compels the quivering contestants to guess what it could be!
Chicken, they all guess.
They are all right.
Next is a slutty little bird with purplish skin skewiffily supine on its dish.
Duck, duck, duck, duck, pheasant – TK cocks it up and will now cook for her life – duck, duck, duck, duck, goose – silly Debra, the vegetarian.
Now on to the next bird, which is a quail, and correctly identified by everyone, as is the dumpy lumpy one which is a turkey. So obviously someone is going to get something wrong soon and surprise, surprise: Treegan says the bird that looks like a pigeon and is a pigeon and also obviously a squab is actually a poussin which is French for absolutely wrong. Realising not even her ironic tattoos can save her now she joins TK and Debra and says she is completely devastated. Davinda on the other hand is correct, and so is a man called Mario, Julia is not – I wrote the wrong P she says – which is startling, but not nearly as startling as Alice’s glasses’ revelation that they wrote the wrong S, “for spatchcock” (obviously).
So we are now clear on which contestants fowled up, but that’s not good enough for Matt who wants to show off his Neornithes knowledge. That one’s a partridge, that one’s goose, that one’s a guinea fowl, he says, flapping his squidgy hands all over the sitting ducks, et al. And that one – that one is particularly popular in New Zealand so just what that one is then ay! He is pointing to a square, yellow, box with tweaky wings and a batty neck that everyone identifies emphatically to be the rare endangered Kiwi bird. It transpires that everyone are idiots, as this is in fact the muttonbird and popular in New Zealand as it’s usually dressed as lamb.
But who cares, as these five contestants are actually already safe and are so forced upstairs where they watch their loser teammates learn they must now cook delicious dishes involving the birds. And they must choose their birds, in turn. Alice’s glasses go first because they was the smartest so they smartly chooses chicken from an intellectual perspective. Julia choses duck so Treegan can have quail while Debra the vegetarian reminds everyone she totally doesn’t even eat this poultry and selects spatchcock leaving TK to choose between Kiwi bird of the year and her destiny, which Matt says she must now pluck. Literally.
Asking which one is most like chicken and receiving no answer, TK decides she couldn’t possibly go for the turkey which is too big and ugly. Matt thinks he’s talking about him so he tells her to sniff the muttonbird which she does. It sniffs gross and TK learns a valuable lesson about big, ugly things called Matt. She takes the turkey. “Crawl inside it,” Matt commands, as she carries it back to her station, only half-jokingly. Meanwhile Gary is serious when he tells them they know what to do now.
“Cook your hearts out!”
They don’t, but we cut to break.
When we return, we must first take an awkward detour through a fancy kitchen somewhere presumably in Sydney that has a grill fancy enough to be given a special name. The blue team are there, they do some marvelling, do some talking, do some other stuff, but as they are clearly not cooking their hearts out, we really don’t care. Cut back to red team.
And it’s time for the mad-rush pantry-montage! As the five females dash about shelves stocked with messages from their sponsors, Matt and Gary take some time to engage in a heart-to-heart. Turkey is basically Christmas, they say. Cranberry is often involved, they muse. This will be a challenge, they decide. Back at her bench, TK agrees with them, deciding to substitute the salmon in a dish she was thinking of making with turkey because it’s basically chicken of the sea anyway. Or something. Anyway, she’s got some dry breasts on her hands while Julia just has a duck which puts her out of her comfort zone. Treegan is dealing with similar themes of uncomfortability by thrusting a pair of scissors into her quail. “I’m just going to cook my heart out,” she says significantly, only to be confused by Gary who says, “Your future is in your hands and your hands only,” leading her to believe she may actually be a small, near-flightless bird.
“You have 41 minutes to go!”
Five women are now frantically wrestling thigh and breast to make sure their bird is a winner. Matt accuses Alice’s glasses of over-intellectualising her chicken by involving goats' cheese, then accuses Debra of letting her vegetarianism get in the way of a good spatchcocking and then tells Treegan he wants to suck the flesh from her bones. In the confusion that follows, Gary sidles up to Debra and says words to the effect of ‘'You're hot, let’s sizzle’' before telling Julia that she’s perfect.
“I know,” she says.
“Pressure is building, stress is building, I’m building up to something explosive, and there’s 15 minutes to go!” Gary relieves himself before talking with Matt in hushed tones about how exciting Julia is, how vegetarian Debra is, how Alice’s Glasses are pretentiously intellectual and how TK is steaming her breasts with sugar. This is not good, they decide, and so Gary suggests she have a taste. They’re overcooked. Oh noes!
Cut to break.
And we’re back.
Ten minutes to go!
Cue chaos, crazy insane terror music, breast innuendo, and more mad-cap zaniness embodied by Treegan’s quail which looks more like a cane toad than her future at this point. This is the time when everyone goes wrong, a bald man named Mario sagely observes.
Five minutes to go!
Julia’s duck looks undercooked.
30 seconds to go!
“No crying fowl at the end of this one, it’s all been up to you!”
10 second to go- five, four, three, two, one ...
‘'Time is up! Winners, come and hug the losers and then go get gone!”
There is much moistness and personal-space-sharing, and then it’s down to business. Crazy tribal drum music plays because it’s tasting time and Treegan suddenly realises she can’t actually see inside her quail to tell whether it’s cooked, or has indeed transfigured into a toad, or her future, or something. Anyway, she’s first up, and though the quail looks like it’s wet itself all over the plate, her dish is judged '‘delicious’' and she lives to be devastated another day. On the other hand, Alice’s Glasses are found to have created a tasty dish that actually looks like crap, and features breasts that are overcooked. Debra, of course, commits no such sin – her flesh is perfect – but then, disaster strikes, as Matt discovers ...
Cut to break.
Back from break.
Tonight on MasterChef we learn who is eliminated, who is a chicken and who believes endangered national icons should be eaten. Our recap was there for this turkey to give the contestants the bird.
There are those television shows that depend on cheap tricks to secure ratings. And then there are shows with dignity. MasterChef is one such show. Hence, last night’s episode was about five women, ten birds, and breasts – naked, moist, plump breasts. Breasts. You stay classy MasterChef.
Our adventure begins with a big fancy house where all sorts of people are packing suitcases which is profoundly metaphorical somehow. Then a pair of kooky eye-glasses called Alice reveals she is an intellectual by saying ‘'I am an intellectual’' and proceeding to detail how she comes from a long line of intellectuals. She is the same bird who cooked tongue earlier as a metaphor for how she is also offal. We suspect she will not win this competition. But no-one has cried yet, so it’s anyone’s game.
Oh wait. A woman is crying. She is Davinda and she is upset because she has curled up in a corner under the weight of expectations and it is affecting her a lot. Davinda is divulging this information because a pair of men called Matt and Gary asked her. They are dressed in the latest of clothing fashions which Davinda finds terrifying to the point where cooking scallops well now seems like the only comforting truth she can hang on to in this competition. “Well put that into your mind and have fun,” Gary says before turning his good grooming on the blonde called Julia who cooks cupcakes and asks whether she’s always been this good at everything.
Yes, she has, she says, and that seems to make sense. So we move on to the announcement of tonight's eeeelllliiiiimmmmmaaaannnaasssshhunchallenge!
“Tonight’s challenge is about protein which is not pork, but the second most popular protein in the world, the other white meat we know as - poultry!” Matt says, prompting viewers in the Papua New Guinean highlands to eat their televisions. They weren’t survey sets, so we proceed. Gary reveals the schadenfreude ensuing thusly will involve contestants trying to guestimate the identity of ten bits of mystery poultry put before them on pain of sudden-death cook-off. This audio is transmitted through the belly of a Highlander and they all begin to regret their hasty decision. Meanwhile Gary and Matt lift lids to reveal ten birds, plucked, bound, and headless.
Blonde Julia says she is ‘'overwhelmed'’ by the sight, Davinda is overwhelmed in general, and Debra is a vegetarian who feels the need to express as much by confirming poultry actually isn’t really something she cooks and she, yes, she hasn’t really eaten gamier birds either. Stunned silence is broken by the Alice Glasses, which say they can pretty much recognise every single bird before them but, on an intellectual level, deduces that the judges will probably do something crafty to try to trip them up. Which is fine because Alice is basically a genius.
Anyway, Gary, filled with excitement and vigour, puts his head almost onto the first nude birdie and compels the quivering contestants to guess what it could be!
Chicken, they all guess.
They are all right.
Next is a slutty little bird with purplish skin skewiffily supine on its dish.
Duck, duck, duck, duck, pheasant – TK cocks it up and will now cook for her life – duck, duck, duck, duck, goose – silly Debra, the vegetarian.
Now on to the next bird, which is a quail, and correctly identified by everyone, as is the dumpy lumpy one which is a turkey. So obviously someone is going to get something wrong soon and surprise, surprise: Treegan says the bird that looks like a pigeon and is a pigeon and also obviously a squab is actually a poussin which is French for absolutely wrong. Realising not even her ironic tattoos can save her now she joins TK and Debra and says she is completely devastated. Davinda on the other hand is correct, and so is a man called Mario, Julia is not – I wrote the wrong P she says – which is startling, but not nearly as startling as Alice’s glasses’ revelation that they wrote the wrong S, “for spatchcock” (obviously).
So we are now clear on which contestants fowled up, but that’s not good enough for Matt who wants to show off his Neornithes knowledge. That one’s a partridge, that one’s goose, that one’s a guinea fowl, he says, flapping his squidgy hands all over the sitting ducks, et al. And that one – that one is particularly popular in New Zealand so just what that one is then ay! He is pointing to a square, yellow, box with tweaky wings and a batty neck that everyone identifies emphatically to be the rare endangered Kiwi bird. It transpires that everyone are idiots, as this is in fact the muttonbird and popular in New Zealand as it’s usually dressed as lamb.
But who cares, as these five contestants are actually already safe and are so forced upstairs where they watch their loser teammates learn they must now cook delicious dishes involving the birds. And they must choose their birds, in turn. Alice’s glasses go first because they was the smartest so they smartly chooses chicken from an intellectual perspective. Julia choses duck so Treegan can have quail while Debra the vegetarian reminds everyone she totally doesn’t even eat this poultry and selects spatchcock leaving TK to choose between Kiwi bird of the year and her destiny, which Matt says she must now pluck. Literally.
Asking which one is most like chicken and receiving no answer, TK decides she couldn’t possibly go for the turkey which is too big and ugly. Matt thinks he’s talking about him so he tells her to sniff the muttonbird which she does. It sniffs gross and TK learns a valuable lesson about big, ugly things called Matt. She takes the turkey. “Crawl inside it,” Matt commands, as she carries it back to her station, only half-jokingly. Meanwhile Gary is serious when he tells them they know what to do now.
“Cook your hearts out!”
They don’t, but we cut to break.
When we return, we must first take an awkward detour through a fancy kitchen somewhere presumably in Sydney that has a grill fancy enough to be given a special name. The blue team are there, they do some marvelling, do some talking, do some other stuff, but as they are clearly not cooking their hearts out, we really don’t care. Cut back to red team.
And it’s time for the mad-rush pantry-montage! As the five females dash about shelves stocked with messages from their sponsors, Matt and Gary take some time to engage in a heart-to-heart. Turkey is basically Christmas, they say. Cranberry is often involved, they muse. This will be a challenge, they decide. Back at her bench, TK agrees with them, deciding to substitute the salmon in a dish she was thinking of making with turkey because it’s basically chicken of the sea anyway. Or something. Anyway, she’s got some dry breasts on her hands while Julia just has a duck which puts her out of her comfort zone. Treegan is dealing with similar themes of uncomfortability by thrusting a pair of scissors into her quail. “I’m just going to cook my heart out,” she says significantly, only to be confused by Gary who says, “Your future is in your hands and your hands only,” leading her to believe she may actually be a small, near-flightless bird.
“You have 41 minutes to go!”
Five women are now frantically wrestling thigh and breast to make sure their bird is a winner. Matt accuses Alice’s glasses of over-intellectualising her chicken by involving goats' cheese, then accuses Debra of letting her vegetarianism get in the way of a good spatchcocking and then tells Treegan he wants to suck the flesh from her bones. In the confusion that follows, Gary sidles up to Debra and says words to the effect of ‘'You're hot, let’s sizzle’' before telling Julia that she’s perfect.
“I know,” she says.
“Pressure is building, stress is building, I’m building up to something explosive, and there’s 15 minutes to go!” Gary relieves himself before talking with Matt in hushed tones about how exciting Julia is, how vegetarian Debra is, how Alice’s Glasses are pretentiously intellectual and how TK is steaming her breasts with sugar. This is not good, they decide, and so Gary suggests she have a taste. They’re overcooked. Oh noes!
Cut to break.
And we’re back.
Ten minutes to go!
Cue chaos, crazy insane terror music, breast innuendo, and more mad-cap zaniness embodied by Treegan’s quail which looks more like a cane toad than her future at this point. This is the time when everyone goes wrong, a bald man named Mario sagely observes.
Five minutes to go!
Julia’s duck looks undercooked.
30 seconds to go!
“No crying fowl at the end of this one, it’s all been up to you!”
10 second to go- five, four, three, two, one ...
‘'Time is up! Winners, come and hug the losers and then go get gone!”
There is much moistness and personal-space-sharing, and then it’s down to business. Crazy tribal drum music plays because it’s tasting time and Treegan suddenly realises she can’t actually see inside her quail to tell whether it’s cooked, or has indeed transfigured into a toad, or her future, or something. Anyway, she’s first up, and though the quail looks like it’s wet itself all over the plate, her dish is judged '‘delicious’' and she lives to be devastated another day. On the other hand, Alice’s Glasses are found to have created a tasty dish that actually looks like crap, and features breasts that are overcooked. Debra, of course, commits no such sin – her flesh is perfect – but then, disaster strikes, as Matt discovers ...
Cut to break.
Back from break.
Meglos
HAVE A NECTARINE, GONK
“Debra, what is this?”
“An olive pip?”
“An olive pip.”
It’s an olive pip. We now have confirmation: those vegetarians are freaking crazy. And Julia gets subsequent confirmation she did indeed underdo her duck. Of course, the best is saved for last, and so TK’s dish is tasted, and assessed, and found to be overdone, overflavoured and overridingly ‘'food court’'. Sting! As the gravity of this assessment hits home, like the salmon sushi roll bought at ten to five, the judges prepare to deliver their final verdict.
“Treegan – step forward.” She does. And is told that she is safe and is bursting with confidence. Alice’s Glasses and Debra are similarly safe. Now only TK and Julia are left.
Everyone breathes very heavily at this point.
Scary violin music strikes up.
Somewhere, Davinda is screaming.
“It comes down to the two of you and the dish that you cooked today,” says Gary.
“Julia…”
“You’re hot. Safe. You’re Safe. Sorry, Julia, you are safe. You’re staying in this competition.”
“TK. You are a food court.”
“Now, turn around. And hug all the girls behind you. Don’t be shy.”
Crying, breathing heavily, emotional, five women embrace passionately. Gary looks on, eyes moist.
It’s a truly special moment: tender, or tenderer than some of the breasts seen tonight. he thinks, softly, to himself.
Such is the potent magic of MasterChef.
#(wet)dreams
“An olive pip?”
“An olive pip.”
It’s an olive pip. We now have confirmation: those vegetarians are freaking crazy. And Julia gets subsequent confirmation she did indeed underdo her duck. Of course, the best is saved for last, and so TK’s dish is tasted, and assessed, and found to be overdone, overflavoured and overridingly ‘'food court’'. Sting! As the gravity of this assessment hits home, like the salmon sushi roll bought at ten to five, the judges prepare to deliver their final verdict.
“Treegan – step forward.” She does. And is told that she is safe and is bursting with confidence. Alice’s Glasses and Debra are similarly safe. Now only TK and Julia are left.
Everyone breathes very heavily at this point.
Scary violin music strikes up.
Somewhere, Davinda is screaming.
“It comes down to the two of you and the dish that you cooked today,” says Gary.
“Julia…”
“You’re hot. Safe. You’re Safe. Sorry, Julia, you are safe. You’re staying in this competition.”
“TK. You are a food court.”
“Now, turn around. And hug all the girls behind you. Don’t be shy.”
Crying, breathing heavily, emotional, five women embrace passionately. Gary looks on, eyes moist.
It’s a truly special moment: tender, or tenderer than some of the breasts seen tonight. he thinks, softly, to himself.
Such is the potent magic of MasterChef.
#(wet)dreams
Oh yeah!
It's been driving me insane for weeks!
I actually like the Friday night master class. I think you can pick up a few good tips.
This years lot seem to be paying a lot of attention there too, as it seems come Sunday, they employ a lot of the techniques showcased.
eliza
Active Member
Why was there no bottom 3 last night, is it because they want to specifically evict someone in Tassie?
Intense Julia is married, for some reason I didn't think she would be.
They were impressed with Beau's crumbed Pork Chop and salad, really? even I could have thrown that together and I am no cook. Then After saying they were looking for imaginative use of the ingredients they chose a couple of fancy pants pavlovas along with the Oysters with Champagne Jelly which at least showed some imagination.
Intense Julia is married, for some reason I didn't think she would be.
They were impressed with Beau's crumbed Pork Chop and salad, really? even I could have thrown that together and I am no cook. Then After saying they were looking for imaginative use of the ingredients they chose a couple of fancy pants pavlovas along with the Oysters with Champagne Jelly which at least showed some imagination.
Meglos
HAVE A NECTARINE, GONK
I agree eliza re: Beau's boring old pork chop, it's something my mum could throw together (& that's no insult to her cooking, but she's not on MasterChef). I was also surprised that Julia is married, she seems to be quite a cold fish. And oops at Matt Preston asking Ben about his girlfriend who is no longer his girlfriend. Do your research properly, or don't ask personal questions.
Meglos
HAVE A NECTARINE, GONK
Recap, by the funny one ;
And so, with hope in our hearts, stars in our eyes, and cholesterol in our arteries, we begin another week of navigation through the increasingly choppy waters of the MasterChef ocean, and yet we cannot help but feel a sense of hollowness as the show proceeds without TK, her elimination last week marking the exact point at which life stopped meaning anything.
But nevertheless, we must press on, no matter how pointless and blighted the world is, and so on this gloomy Sunday evening we find ourselves asking the big question to arise from this season: isn't 7.33 a strange time for a show to start?
Nevertheless, that is when it does start, and it is at that time that we are handily reminded of what the winner of this year's series will win, and of how well Sam can handle his meat. At the start of the show, the amateurs are kicking back at home. Audra lays out some photos of her children and weeps at the thought that she left them behind in return for the privilege of helping Mindy beat her in the competition. Dalvinder also misses her kids, while Sam misses his girlfriend, which seems a bit shallow.
No time to dwell on the important things though – it's off to the kitchen! In the kitchen, they are confronted by an array of enormous boxes, and Matt Preston in a suit made from finest demon-skin. Gary asks the amateurs how it feels to have been in the contest for four weeks, and the contestants, who have just been moping around missing their families, call out "AWESOME" in what is simply a vicious and repellent lie.
(A thought: It'd be really freaky if by some chance the day on which all the contestants were thinking about their loved ones and their home lives was also the day on which they had to do a challenge which related to that in some way, wouldn't it? Unlikely, but still.)
Gary notes how well the women are doing in comparison to the men, his shamelessly gendered language marking a low point in the show so far. Filippo tells Gary he has "a surprise" in store, and we must assume from his facial expression that it involves a boning knife.
The amateurs open their mystery boxes, which contain a bottle of white rum and the sort of ingredients that a person who had just drunk a bottle of white rum might put together. Their job is to make up, you know, whatever, I guess. Immediately they all disappoint Gary by putting pork into pans, like some kind of ... chef (spit), and Matt expresses doubt as to whether the fellas "have game", his upbringing in the projects of Harlem shining through yet again.
Emma surely has game though, as she begins to make a pineapple cake with rum cream and strands of fraying beanie. Less comfortable is Amina, who is cooking pork, despite her faith. Gary thinks this is very brave of her, while George shrugs in a manner suggestive of his contempt for her abandonment of her religious ideals.
Up the back, meanwhile, Sam has as usual set fire to the kitchen. Elsewhere, Audra is making sweet and sour pork, in an attempt to send a powerful message to her husband about what a loser he is. Dalvinder is also making sweet and sour pork, because of her mother or something, one of those stories that people tell on this show.
We now cut to a close-up of Western Star butter, for no special reason. We then cut to Andy, who declares "It's time to get the crackle out" in his best sex-offender voice, and proceeds to severely burn his hand, just like a real chef.
With ten seconds to go, the pressure is on, as the amateurs work frantically to restrain themselves from hurling boiling fat at George. And then time is up, and the poor deluded fools celebrate – Amina is particularly proud that she's "just cooked pork", though she then says "I don't know if it's cooked", so maybe your pride is a little premature, yeah?
It is now time for an ad for Bikie Wars, a sobering reminder of less civilised times, when people settled their differences with gunfire instead of cooking.
Back in the kitchen, it is time for the judges to select the three dishes for tasting on the basis of factors completely irrelevant to the cooking process. Gary is relieved that nobody cooked marshmallows and pork, because Gary is a some kind of nut. He then reiterates his viciously misandristic view on the innate superiority of the female sex, and Dalvinder and Audra are brought forward on a purely chromosomal basis. Amazingly, though, the third one up is Beau, who despite his testicles, has cooked something that apparently looks OK.
First for tasting is Audra, whose sweet and sour pork looks fine, but who has apparently only been able to find a giant's plate to put it on. "You've reached into that box and plucked out flavours that go well together," says Matt, which means Audra will immediately be disqualified due to the show's strict No Flavour-Plucking rule.
"Why am I gonna love this dish?" asks George. "Because I cooked it," says Dalvinder, who has apparently not received the "nobody likes a smartarse" memo. George loves Dal's dish, and slyly hints to Audra that she and Dal should wrestle each other.
Beau, meanwhile, has made a crumbed pork cutlet, because he's a real avant-garde think-outside-the-box arthousey kinda guy. Matt notes that Beau has made a Beau-dish, but continues to polish what he does, so unfortunately he is also disqualified, as the use of polish is banned on medical grounds.
It's a difficult decision, as all three have made excellent dishes, but difficult decisions are at the core of life, whether it be which pork was the tastiest, or which ingredient to choose for the invention test, or which child one must abandon to the Nazis. Life is like that, and MasterChef is no different. But anyway, Dalvinder is the winner, and she reacts by doing a little dance, and EVERYONE IN THE KITCHEN then does the same dance, which means either the producers are over-choreographing this show, or they've picked an unusually stupid and annoying group of amateurs. "You've cooked something that makes us think everything in the world is all right," says Matt, callously ignoring the myriad atrocities across the globe.
The theme for the invention test is "seduction", the contestants challenged to produce their best culinary representation of the creepy voices that MasterChef judges do when talking about seduction. As the seductive ingredients are unveiled, they prove to be so sexy they set fire to everything.
Not even the MasterChef fireball burns as painfully as the pain in Andrew Gaze's back! Thank God for Voltaren!
In time, of course, we return to the kitchen, where George whips off the covers to reveal: strawberries and cream; champagne and caviar; and roses and chocolate. Dalvinder is torn: she reveals that she has never eaten caviar, and so Gary instantly begins bullying her by forcing her to eat the disgusting muck.
Dalvinder's advantage is that everyone else must choose one pair of ingredients, while she is allowed to cook with whatever she wants to, up to and including her competitors' children. Andy’s advantage is that he gets to sit out the challenge because of his burnt hand. Everyone else curses the gods for not burning their hands as well.
Julia has chosen roses and chocolate, because she was sick the day at school when they taught everyone that flowers aren't food. Gary and George do a hilarious Two Ronnies-esque fat joke, and we move on to Filippo, who is cooking for his kids. Filippo's kids sit at home, vowing to never speak to their father again if he screws this up. Then Sam, who is cooking with champagne and caviar, in honour of his girlfriend, who has expensive and revolting tastes.
Gary doesn't want to see kitsch food, which is bad news for those amateurs who are baking Barry Manilow pies. What George loves about the challenge is that there are no consequences – he has finally understood the essentially futile nature of existence, and the absence of free will from the human condition.
In accordance with the theme of seduction, Ben decided to burn his dish, as he likes to seduce women by setting them on fire. But burning is of course a major theme of all MasterChef episodes, as we are swiftly reminded in the flaming lead-in to another reminder of just why we stopped watching Tim Allen fifteen years ago.
Back in the kitchen, Gary demands that the amateurs "tempt us, tantalise us and make us tingle all over", suddenly forcing everyone to add vomit to the menu. Speaking of vomit, it's over to Alice, who is making caviar and oyster shooters, in tribute to her ancestors, who were constantly nauseous. She then confesses to being a Soviet, which seems alarming – should she really be allowed on our screens? There could be a listening device in her glasses. We can only briefly muse upon Alice's insistence on continuing the Cold War, because the judges now drop by Kylie's bench to rub her loneliness in her face. They then convene to urgently tell each other things they already know, and Andy gleefully yells times out from his elevated infirmary.
It quickly becomes apparent that Beau has made something of a faux pas by forgetting the caviar – will his failure to include the ingredient he had to include cost him? It freaking well better.
Tasting time, and first up is Dalvinder, who has made a chocolate cake – oh how inventive. Her cake is lovely, but not delicious – she should have put more oysters in.
And so, with hope in our hearts, stars in our eyes, and cholesterol in our arteries, we begin another week of navigation through the increasingly choppy waters of the MasterChef ocean, and yet we cannot help but feel a sense of hollowness as the show proceeds without TK, her elimination last week marking the exact point at which life stopped meaning anything.
But nevertheless, we must press on, no matter how pointless and blighted the world is, and so on this gloomy Sunday evening we find ourselves asking the big question to arise from this season: isn't 7.33 a strange time for a show to start?
Nevertheless, that is when it does start, and it is at that time that we are handily reminded of what the winner of this year's series will win, and of how well Sam can handle his meat. At the start of the show, the amateurs are kicking back at home. Audra lays out some photos of her children and weeps at the thought that she left them behind in return for the privilege of helping Mindy beat her in the competition. Dalvinder also misses her kids, while Sam misses his girlfriend, which seems a bit shallow.
No time to dwell on the important things though – it's off to the kitchen! In the kitchen, they are confronted by an array of enormous boxes, and Matt Preston in a suit made from finest demon-skin. Gary asks the amateurs how it feels to have been in the contest for four weeks, and the contestants, who have just been moping around missing their families, call out "AWESOME" in what is simply a vicious and repellent lie.
(A thought: It'd be really freaky if by some chance the day on which all the contestants were thinking about their loved ones and their home lives was also the day on which they had to do a challenge which related to that in some way, wouldn't it? Unlikely, but still.)
Gary notes how well the women are doing in comparison to the men, his shamelessly gendered language marking a low point in the show so far. Filippo tells Gary he has "a surprise" in store, and we must assume from his facial expression that it involves a boning knife.
The amateurs open their mystery boxes, which contain a bottle of white rum and the sort of ingredients that a person who had just drunk a bottle of white rum might put together. Their job is to make up, you know, whatever, I guess. Immediately they all disappoint Gary by putting pork into pans, like some kind of ... chef (spit), and Matt expresses doubt as to whether the fellas "have game", his upbringing in the projects of Harlem shining through yet again.
Emma surely has game though, as she begins to make a pineapple cake with rum cream and strands of fraying beanie. Less comfortable is Amina, who is cooking pork, despite her faith. Gary thinks this is very brave of her, while George shrugs in a manner suggestive of his contempt for her abandonment of her religious ideals.
Up the back, meanwhile, Sam has as usual set fire to the kitchen. Elsewhere, Audra is making sweet and sour pork, in an attempt to send a powerful message to her husband about what a loser he is. Dalvinder is also making sweet and sour pork, because of her mother or something, one of those stories that people tell on this show.
We now cut to a close-up of Western Star butter, for no special reason. We then cut to Andy, who declares "It's time to get the crackle out" in his best sex-offender voice, and proceeds to severely burn his hand, just like a real chef.
With ten seconds to go, the pressure is on, as the amateurs work frantically to restrain themselves from hurling boiling fat at George. And then time is up, and the poor deluded fools celebrate – Amina is particularly proud that she's "just cooked pork", though she then says "I don't know if it's cooked", so maybe your pride is a little premature, yeah?
It is now time for an ad for Bikie Wars, a sobering reminder of less civilised times, when people settled their differences with gunfire instead of cooking.
Back in the kitchen, it is time for the judges to select the three dishes for tasting on the basis of factors completely irrelevant to the cooking process. Gary is relieved that nobody cooked marshmallows and pork, because Gary is a some kind of nut. He then reiterates his viciously misandristic view on the innate superiority of the female sex, and Dalvinder and Audra are brought forward on a purely chromosomal basis. Amazingly, though, the third one up is Beau, who despite his testicles, has cooked something that apparently looks OK.
First for tasting is Audra, whose sweet and sour pork looks fine, but who has apparently only been able to find a giant's plate to put it on. "You've reached into that box and plucked out flavours that go well together," says Matt, which means Audra will immediately be disqualified due to the show's strict No Flavour-Plucking rule.
"Why am I gonna love this dish?" asks George. "Because I cooked it," says Dalvinder, who has apparently not received the "nobody likes a smartarse" memo. George loves Dal's dish, and slyly hints to Audra that she and Dal should wrestle each other.
Beau, meanwhile, has made a crumbed pork cutlet, because he's a real avant-garde think-outside-the-box arthousey kinda guy. Matt notes that Beau has made a Beau-dish, but continues to polish what he does, so unfortunately he is also disqualified, as the use of polish is banned on medical grounds.
It's a difficult decision, as all three have made excellent dishes, but difficult decisions are at the core of life, whether it be which pork was the tastiest, or which ingredient to choose for the invention test, or which child one must abandon to the Nazis. Life is like that, and MasterChef is no different. But anyway, Dalvinder is the winner, and she reacts by doing a little dance, and EVERYONE IN THE KITCHEN then does the same dance, which means either the producers are over-choreographing this show, or they've picked an unusually stupid and annoying group of amateurs. "You've cooked something that makes us think everything in the world is all right," says Matt, callously ignoring the myriad atrocities across the globe.
The theme for the invention test is "seduction", the contestants challenged to produce their best culinary representation of the creepy voices that MasterChef judges do when talking about seduction. As the seductive ingredients are unveiled, they prove to be so sexy they set fire to everything.
Not even the MasterChef fireball burns as painfully as the pain in Andrew Gaze's back! Thank God for Voltaren!
In time, of course, we return to the kitchen, where George whips off the covers to reveal: strawberries and cream; champagne and caviar; and roses and chocolate. Dalvinder is torn: she reveals that she has never eaten caviar, and so Gary instantly begins bullying her by forcing her to eat the disgusting muck.
Dalvinder's advantage is that everyone else must choose one pair of ingredients, while she is allowed to cook with whatever she wants to, up to and including her competitors' children. Andy’s advantage is that he gets to sit out the challenge because of his burnt hand. Everyone else curses the gods for not burning their hands as well.
Julia has chosen roses and chocolate, because she was sick the day at school when they taught everyone that flowers aren't food. Gary and George do a hilarious Two Ronnies-esque fat joke, and we move on to Filippo, who is cooking for his kids. Filippo's kids sit at home, vowing to never speak to their father again if he screws this up. Then Sam, who is cooking with champagne and caviar, in honour of his girlfriend, who has expensive and revolting tastes.
Gary doesn't want to see kitsch food, which is bad news for those amateurs who are baking Barry Manilow pies. What George loves about the challenge is that there are no consequences – he has finally understood the essentially futile nature of existence, and the absence of free will from the human condition.
In accordance with the theme of seduction, Ben decided to burn his dish, as he likes to seduce women by setting them on fire. But burning is of course a major theme of all MasterChef episodes, as we are swiftly reminded in the flaming lead-in to another reminder of just why we stopped watching Tim Allen fifteen years ago.
Back in the kitchen, Gary demands that the amateurs "tempt us, tantalise us and make us tingle all over", suddenly forcing everyone to add vomit to the menu. Speaking of vomit, it's over to Alice, who is making caviar and oyster shooters, in tribute to her ancestors, who were constantly nauseous. She then confesses to being a Soviet, which seems alarming – should she really be allowed on our screens? There could be a listening device in her glasses. We can only briefly muse upon Alice's insistence on continuing the Cold War, because the judges now drop by Kylie's bench to rub her loneliness in her face. They then convene to urgently tell each other things they already know, and Andy gleefully yells times out from his elevated infirmary.
It quickly becomes apparent that Beau has made something of a faux pas by forgetting the caviar – will his failure to include the ingredient he had to include cost him? It freaking well better.
Tasting time, and first up is Dalvinder, who has made a chocolate cake – oh how inventive. Her cake is lovely, but not delicious – she should have put more oysters in.
Meglos
HAVE A NECTARINE, GONK
Next is Filippo, who has made a meringue cake with strawberries and cream and a side of heart-warming note from daughter. Gary finds the cake "creamy and coconutty and beautiful and irresistible with that story". The other amateurs frantically begin forging their own daughters' notes to present. George finds the cake extremely seductive, which seems a bit wrong after the whole "daughter" thing, and he and Filippo proceed to make out with each other a bit.
Audra steps forward to present her dish and assert her tight psychological grip over her husband. She sees Filippo's adorable note, and raises him a burst of homesick tears. "Your emotion when you cook is a beautiful thing," says George, but he makes clear that her food is not.
Ben steps up and admits he's not much good with seduction. Matt stops him to ask about his "beautiful girlfriend". Ben says he doesn't have a girlfriend. The room gasps. Matt comes over to cut Ben's chest open and rub some salt into the cavity. The fireball arrives, more in sorrow than in anger.
Ben might be unable to hold onto a lady, but at least he can hold onto savings with Telstra Pre-Paid! Perhaps that will help salve the wounds Preston has inflicted.
We return to the kitchen to discover that not only has MasterChef cost Ben his job, but his girlfriend left him because of it as well. Filippo's little note is looking pretty weak now, isn't it? MasterChef has clearly become a sob-story arms race, and the next one up better have a dead pet or a heroin addiction to bring up if they hope to win.
The next one up, as it happens, is Tregan, who offers only a story about how she loves her boyfriend, which is completely lame. Forget you, Tregan.
We move quickly past Beau, as the fact he's incapable of understanding instructions is all we need to know. We move equally quickly past Kylie, whose sob-story is basically the fact that she has incredibly low standards. Ben will presumably ask her out afterwards.
Then Julia, whose dish is a mess, just like her marriage, I think? I don't know, sometimes I feel these guys push too hard to find metaphors.
And now it is the turn of Sam, who has made some horrible seafood thing. "Sam, welcome to the competition," says Matt, before being rushed to the head trauma unit for an MRI to discover why he is suffering such catastrophic memory loss. Sam has been there for WEEKS!
Next up is Mindy, who is lonely after the end of a relationship AND crying – Kylie, Ben and Audra are such amateurs. Matt points out to her how great food is for helping you ignore your problems, and that at least her solace comes in champagne and caviar. Though one could also point out that it's not Mindy who actually gets to eat the stuff. Matt finds her dish unimpressive, but the important thing about the dish is that she learnt to love herself. Shortly before learning to hate herself again because Matt found her dish unimpressive.
It's nearly time to find out who wins, but of course it's important to take just a moment to remind ourselves of the blessing of all-day socks and hair replacement technology.
Anyway Sam has seduced them with his meal, in a hopefully-not-too-literal sense. "You blew our mind," says George, confirming the long-held suspicion that the three judges are automatons sharing a single hive-mind. Next is Filippo, even though he cheated with the note. And finally Tregan, which is ridiculous because she didn't even cry.
Tregan and Filippo, for their troubles, have won the magnificent prize of getting to step forward for five seconds and then step back again, because Sam is the winner, and apparently he is going to get a MASSIVE PRIZE.
Under a cloche, is a clue, and Matt begins to put on a pair of ominous white gloves. Just whose cavity is he going to search? He lifts the cloche, and reveals … the first cookbook ever written in Australia. Yes – Sam's prize is time travel.
Matt then embarks on a strange, rambling monologue that seems to have very little point, but in the end he gets around to revealing that they are going to Tasmania. Ben is excited to be returning, to the home which now contains only loneliness and shattered dreams. If only his girlfriend had known, she might not have left him.
At the end of the trip, Gary warns, someone will not be returning. Sam's advantage will presumably be to be informed of who the killer is.
And so we are left on tenterhooks, with only a brief teaser to hint at the Deliverance-esque nightmare which awaits them in the Tasmanian wilds, and the amateurs head off to a fitful sleep, dreaming of the families they abandoned, the lovers they lost, and the horrors they have yet to experience.
Audra steps forward to present her dish and assert her tight psychological grip over her husband. She sees Filippo's adorable note, and raises him a burst of homesick tears. "Your emotion when you cook is a beautiful thing," says George, but he makes clear that her food is not.
Ben steps up and admits he's not much good with seduction. Matt stops him to ask about his "beautiful girlfriend". Ben says he doesn't have a girlfriend. The room gasps. Matt comes over to cut Ben's chest open and rub some salt into the cavity. The fireball arrives, more in sorrow than in anger.
Ben might be unable to hold onto a lady, but at least he can hold onto savings with Telstra Pre-Paid! Perhaps that will help salve the wounds Preston has inflicted.
We return to the kitchen to discover that not only has MasterChef cost Ben his job, but his girlfriend left him because of it as well. Filippo's little note is looking pretty weak now, isn't it? MasterChef has clearly become a sob-story arms race, and the next one up better have a dead pet or a heroin addiction to bring up if they hope to win.
The next one up, as it happens, is Tregan, who offers only a story about how she loves her boyfriend, which is completely lame. Forget you, Tregan.
We move quickly past Beau, as the fact he's incapable of understanding instructions is all we need to know. We move equally quickly past Kylie, whose sob-story is basically the fact that she has incredibly low standards. Ben will presumably ask her out afterwards.
Then Julia, whose dish is a mess, just like her marriage, I think? I don't know, sometimes I feel these guys push too hard to find metaphors.
And now it is the turn of Sam, who has made some horrible seafood thing. "Sam, welcome to the competition," says Matt, before being rushed to the head trauma unit for an MRI to discover why he is suffering such catastrophic memory loss. Sam has been there for WEEKS!
Next up is Mindy, who is lonely after the end of a relationship AND crying – Kylie, Ben and Audra are such amateurs. Matt points out to her how great food is for helping you ignore your problems, and that at least her solace comes in champagne and caviar. Though one could also point out that it's not Mindy who actually gets to eat the stuff. Matt finds her dish unimpressive, but the important thing about the dish is that she learnt to love herself. Shortly before learning to hate herself again because Matt found her dish unimpressive.
It's nearly time to find out who wins, but of course it's important to take just a moment to remind ourselves of the blessing of all-day socks and hair replacement technology.
Anyway Sam has seduced them with his meal, in a hopefully-not-too-literal sense. "You blew our mind," says George, confirming the long-held suspicion that the three judges are automatons sharing a single hive-mind. Next is Filippo, even though he cheated with the note. And finally Tregan, which is ridiculous because she didn't even cry.
Tregan and Filippo, for their troubles, have won the magnificent prize of getting to step forward for five seconds and then step back again, because Sam is the winner, and apparently he is going to get a MASSIVE PRIZE.
Under a cloche, is a clue, and Matt begins to put on a pair of ominous white gloves. Just whose cavity is he going to search? He lifts the cloche, and reveals … the first cookbook ever written in Australia. Yes – Sam's prize is time travel.
Matt then embarks on a strange, rambling monologue that seems to have very little point, but in the end he gets around to revealing that they are going to Tasmania. Ben is excited to be returning, to the home which now contains only loneliness and shattered dreams. If only his girlfriend had known, she might not have left him.
At the end of the trip, Gary warns, someone will not be returning. Sam's advantage will presumably be to be informed of who the killer is.
And so we are left on tenterhooks, with only a brief teaser to hint at the Deliverance-esque nightmare which awaits them in the Tasmanian wilds, and the amateurs head off to a fitful sleep, dreaming of the families they abandoned, the lovers they lost, and the horrors they have yet to experience.
Meglos
HAVE A NECTARINE, GONK
Recap of last night :
http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment...els-to-deep-dark-tasmania-20120605-1zub2.html
http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment...els-to-deep-dark-tasmania-20120605-1zub2.html
Meglos
HAVE A NECTARINE, GONK
And the latest (I find these a good read while eating lunch)
http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment...an-and-choking-the-locals-20120606-1zx0z.html
http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment...an-and-choking-the-locals-20120606-1zx0z.html
C
Cookie
Guest
I so want to make melting moments with a nice creamy filling and some raspberry jam (with the seeds sieved out) What a fabulous thing to to on the upcoming long weekend.
ichi
Active Member
Cookie see if you can find an old CWA cookbook, they have a melting moments recipe to die for!!
MM's are pretty much the one and only thing I can cook really well.
And correct me if I am wrong but Mario is the one who desrves the praise if he cooked them. Anyone can provide a recipe we see it every time they have a pressure test - doesn;t mean the end product is going to turn out well. Well done Mario for getting it done even though you were being screamed at by a shrill banshee the whole time. Oh hang on, a shrill banshee who RUNS A MARKET STALL.
Oh one last thing - could Masterchef ask the contestnats to please stop 'smashing' everything? I smashed it, I'm gonna smash it, All I can do is go out there and smash it, He smashed it......enough already!!
MM's are pretty much the one and only thing I can cook really well.
And correct me if I am wrong but Mario is the one who desrves the praise if he cooked them. Anyone can provide a recipe we see it every time they have a pressure test - doesn;t mean the end product is going to turn out well. Well done Mario for getting it done even though you were being screamed at by a shrill banshee the whole time. Oh hang on, a shrill banshee who RUNS A MARKET STALL.
Oh one last thing - could Masterchef ask the contestnats to please stop 'smashing' everything? I smashed it, I'm gonna smash it, All I can do is go out there and smash it, He smashed it......enough already!!
W
wynter
Guest
Is Julia's recipe on the MC website? If not, I paused the recording on the recipe of Julia's that they flashed on screen last night and wrote it down. Do you want it?
Recipes from places like CWA cookbooks are usually really really good. A lot of those women are fantastic cooks and only give their best recipes. It's probably the same recipe that Julia uses..lol. There can only be a limited number of ways to cook MM's. They are all the same ingredients.
Recipes from places like CWA cookbooks are usually really really good. A lot of those women are fantastic cooks and only give their best recipes. It's probably the same recipe that Julia uses..lol. There can only be a limited number of ways to cook MM's. They are all the same ingredients.
W
wynter
Guest
No custard powder in Julia's recipe. I haven't watched it yet so I don't know who's gone.