Masterchef Recap: The Restless Sleep Of Beef

As the old movie said, if it’s Thursday it must be Curtis Stone. Yes, the thinking woman’s Fabio, the man who made lying about how much dinner costs sexy again, is here in the Masterchef kitchen to show everyone his meat.

Khanh almost looks scared of that salad. Like he knows there’s a spider in there.

Sarah says she doesn’t want today to be her last day in the Masterchef kitchen, which is what sets her apart from the other amateurs, who are absolutely gagging to get the fuck out of there.

“Considering you’re all dressed in black,” Gary says, “You seem to be all quite buoyant and smiley.” It’s just like Margaret Thatcher’s funeral.

Jess is nervous because behind the judges are a variety of meats, and she was hoping it would be a dessert challenge. The unfairness of life is really hitting home, as she realises that Masterchef makes people cook things that aren’t desserts sometimes.

“As a chef, knowledge is power,” says George, sticking to his lifelong theme of saying a lot while meaning nothing. The elimination challenge will consist of two rounds, the first of which requires the amateurs to identify various cuts of meat. Jess is in major trouble, as ice cream is not a cut of meat.

Curtis Stone arrives and everyone gets moist. “I never thought he was attractive until he walked in,” says Chloe, and it’s true, sometimes you see a guy on TV and he doesn’t seem very handsome, but then you meet him in person and he stinks of rancid beef, and you just start to quiver.

It is time to name the meat. Jenny goes first and correctly identifies a lamb rack, and also the lamb on it. There is a delay while George and Gary fuck around with plastic lettuce, before Khanh, the butcher’s son, steps up. “I’m getting pressure from two different places today,” he says, referring to both the shame of his mother if he fails, and his sore knee. He correctly identifies a lamb shank.

Brendan is quietly nervous looking at the meat, terrified that it will come to life and take its revenge. Despite his nerves he knows what a lamb neck is. I think he says lamb neck. Is lamb neck a thing?

Aldo says pork belly. Right.

Chloe says chicken tenderloin. Right.

Sarah says chorizo, which is rather exotic of her. Yet she is correct.

Ben says pork chop. Boring. Correct.

“The food knowledge down there is absolutely amazing,” says Reece, watching from the balcony, mind blown by the idea of someone who knows what a pork chop looks like.

Jess says Maryland chicken, whatever the fuck that is. Right.

Khanh says tripe. Gross. Right.

Jenny says chicken drumstick, which must’ve really stunned Reece. Right.

Brendan says black pudding. Who said there were no desserts? Right.

Aldo says pork fillet. Right.

And then…AND THEN…

“How well do you know your meat cuts Chloe?” asks Curtis flirtatiously.

“I don’t cook with a lot of meat,” says Chloe. Not what he asked Chloe. Answer the goddamn question.

Chloe selects number six, making Gary bury his face in his hands, distressed because he knows number six is not actually a meat but a highly specific variety of ungulate faeces. Chloe identifies it as “pork sausages” like a total rube. George informs her that it has a special name. She has not the slightest clue what it is. “Pork and fennel sausage,” she says, and I don’t know what this sausage is called, but I know that’s a really dumb answer.

Sarah, suddenly violently aware of her own mortality, confidently identifies number two as porchetta, like a complete idiot. It’s actually pancetta. She said porchetta because she got mixed up between meat and Italian restaurant franchises.

Ben steps up and correctly identifies rissoles. Rissoles! Why didn’t Chloe and Sarah pick rissoles? Jesus.

Jess has no idea what meat is what: none of them look anything like cake. At her wit’s end — not necessarily very far away — she says “pork thigh”. I don’t think that’s even a thing. She joins Chloe and Sarah in Loser Corner.

Jenny takes another turn and identifies a porterhouse steak which is, miraculously, a porterhouse steak.

Khanh comes up again and says number five is…FIREBALL!

And we’re back. Khanh has gone blank, but somewhere through the fog of ignorance and anxiety and prescription drugs he says brisket and brisket it is.

Brendan arrives at the cabinet and decides to have a go at the sausage Chloe got wrong. This is a terrible decision on his part, as he says, “boerewors”…or something…but actually it’s something called “Cumberland”. This is the sort of knowledge that is literally useless in every situation except a Masterchef challenge with Curtis Stone.

Anyway, Brendan and Chloe and Sarah and Jess, being ignoramuses, must now cut up and cook a ribeye steak in the manner of Curtis Stone. Curtis shows them how he cuts a piece of meat up, so lost in his work that he believes he is creating good television. “Who butchers their own meat?” he asks the losers. None of them do, because they’re normal. “Good — keeps me in a job,” he says, which is blatantly untrue: his job is cooking, he doesn’t run a butcher’s shop. You’re full of shit, Curtis. Tell us again how dinner only costs ten dollars.

The losers have seventy-five minutes to fillet and cook their beef. At the end one loser will experience the sweet release of elimination. Their time starts now.

Jess decides to make a beef salad that her dad makes, as it’s the only non-dessert she has ever eaten. She can’t remember which side of the meat to cut. She gives the beef a sensual massage to pass the time. “Look at you, you little butcher,” calls Lisa from the balcony. Jess giggles, but Lisa meant it as a vicious insult.

“The challenge today is to really hero that piece of meat,” says Sarah, who had heard that she was popular with viewers and so sought the ideal sentence to make everyone watching hate her. We flash back to Sarah at home with her burly bearded Brazilian husband, slipping him some hot beef of her own.

Curtis comes over to tell Sarah to rest her beef multiple times. The correct response is to tell Curtis that resting meat is stupid and no dish that requires the food to rest is worth making. Instead, the craven redhead agrees to give her beef several smokos while cooking it.

Brendan is making something from Mauritius, a dodo steak or something, I don’t know.

Meanwhile Chloe is going to make something-or-other noodles. “I’m going to make the noodles from scratch,” she says, like she deserves a medal or something. “I’m going to work my little tush off,” she goes on to say. Ugh. People who say “tush”. Revolting.

Curtis approaches Chloe, who tells him she’s going to mince the scotch fillet. Curtis reacts like she’s just told him she plans to finger a baboon. He has never heard anything so barbarous. “That’s a premium cut,” he tells her. Chloe nods — she understands it’s a premium cut, but like her mum always told her: the more expensive the meat, the more you should try to ruin it.

Curtis tells George that Chloe is mincing the scotch fillet, and that there are a lot of butchers turning over in their grave right now, having died young from eating too much meat. They share a moment of sadness at their memories.

Sarah is obsessed with resting her meat. She can’t stop talking about all the times she’s going to rest her meat. She’s building a chaise longue for her meat to recline on.

George comes to Sarah’s bench to say “Impeccable” to her three times, so that she is one hundred percent clear on the fact that he thinks she’s a moron.

Jess is doing something really weird with noodles or something. It’s like…they’re stuck to the bottom of a bowl and…I dunno, man. It’s weird. Let’s move on.

A flashback to Brendan’s family home reveals that he enjoys cooking fish on the beach much like a homeless drifter would. In Mauritius food is central to everything, unlike other cultures which mostly don’t involve food to any great extent.

“This steak needs to sing!” yells Curtis, having trained under George in how to make unintelligible exhortations.

Gary asks Jess why she’s using lemon juice and not lime juice. Jess tells him that her dad uses lemon juice and she trusts her dad more than you, arsehole. Flash back to Jess’s dad observing her cooking at home, a disappointed look on his face.

Reece hopes Jess’s sweet tooth doesn’t get her in trouble, but why does he give a shit, really?

Meanwhile Brendan is happy with the chutney, which is all a man can ask for in life really.

Cut away to Khanh, who provides the fascinating insight that in this beef-cooking challenge, cooking the beef will be key. Thanks Khanh, your expertise is appreciated it.

Sarah is still resting her fucking beef. While it rests, she pokes it all over. Not very restful if you ask me. Nobody wants a redhead poking them while they’re trying to sleep.

Now Brendan is resting his beef. This is a sickness.

“Make sure that steak is perfect!” Gary shouts, as if that’s in their control. Brendan’s steak is not perfect. “It’s looking blue,” he says. It’s not really. It’s sort of reddish. He might be colourblind.

No time to correct horrible mistakes, though — FIREBALL is here!

There is a frantic rush to finish. Jess’s dressing doesn’t have the exciting flavour her dad’s used to have. Her dad will be ashamed of her. That is the Matserchef way.

And now time is up. The steak must now stop resting and get in the judges’ faces. George sucks up to Curtis in a frankly disgusting manner. “I was impressed with how they butchered it,” says Curtis, which could really be misinterpreted.

The first dish to be served is Sarah’s, which has rested several dozen times and is feeling fit and well. Her dish is a big slab of meat, and a couple of burnt corn cobs and some green slop. “There’s nothing more beautiful than a giant piece of meat like that,” says Curtis, looking in a mirror.

The judges are agreed: Sarah’s well-rested beef tastes like nice meat and her green slop is very green.

Next dish is Brendan, who is happy with his chutney but knows his steak is borderline. Will it behave?

“It is blue, isn’t it,” says Gary, who is just as bad at identifying colours as Brendan.

Brendan admits he’s scared of going home. “What is it that scares you?” asks Matt, even though Brendan has JUST FINISHED TELLING THEM what it is that scares them. Prick up your freaking ears, Matt.

Curtis tells Brendan he moved around the kitchen with purpose, which impressed him but was also ironic because moving around the kitchen with purpose didn’t help him cook his steak for long enough.

The judges are agreed: everything in Brendan’s steak dish is great except the steak, which isn’t cooked.

In comes Chloe, the Murderer Of Prime Beef. Her dish is a weird little bowl of dry mince. It does not look worth ruining a steak for. “The noodles are very good aren’t they,” says Gary, putting his finger on the most irrelevant possible point. The judges love the noodles but are revolted by Chloe mincing the beef after Curtis went to all the trouble of waggling his knife at them all.

Last comes Jess, who is desperately hoping that her father will speak to her again. Her beef salad looks very good, if you like that sort of thing, which I do not. “Curtis, what do you think?” asks George, still sucking up. Curtis says it’s a beautiful looking plate, implying the food on the plate is vile.

The judges are agreed: Jess’s beef salad is really pretty disappointing, the kind of beef salad you’d expect from someone who came in planning a dessert.

FIREBALL

The conflagration dealt with, the losers line up to find out which one of their failures was the most failurey. Gary tells Sarah she did a spectacular job, sending a strong message that the others were shit. He tells Chloe she didn’t hero the beef, but she’s safe because she made good noodles, which seems very very unfair. He tells Jess her dish tasted like garbage, but Brendan is going home because he forgot the main rule of cooking: cook something. His raw meat has failed to help him survive.

George makes an irritating speech. Brendan informs everyone that it’s been a rollercoaster — ups, downs, screaming, vomiting on strangers’ heads. And just like vomit, his final dish made everyone feel sick to look at. Everyone claps Brendan even though he has failed miserably and should not be encouraged.

The epilogue tells us that Brendan has worked under Jesse Blake, which I find disgraceful.

Tune in next week when the amateurs travel to South Australia. Who will be murdered?

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