Previously on My Kitchen Rules: well…
A bunch of people wanted to get on TV and bitch about each other, and they did. They went to each other’s houses and made noises and drank heavily. Some of them gave each other high fives. Sometimes they made food for people who were sitting outside, but sometimes they made food for people who were sitting inside. Josh and Austin were complete fuckholes. Then Veronica and Pipe were even worse fuckholes. Then Victor stared darkly at his knife for hours. Andy and Ruby explained how all food originated in Peru. Matt and Luke made cricket jokes. Romel was disgusted by everyone’s dress sense. Most people went home. Some people didn’t. Colin yelled for no reason.
Ibby and Romel are now competing against Matt and Luke for the title of whatever title the winner of My Kitchen Rules gets. Whoever serves the best meal tonight will earn the honour of apearing on an UberEats ad next year.
“What a moment, what an achievement,” says Manu, whose English is not so good so he doesn’t know what “achievement” means.
Ibby and Romel are dressed in black to signify that they are evil. Matt and Luke are dressed in white to signify that they prefer first-class cricket to the limited-overs varieties.
“We have worked so hard, we have given up so much,” says Ibby, who has not given up anything as far as I know. I’d like him to explain exactly what the fuck he’s given up.
Pete asks Matt and Luke what the secret of winning tonight is. “Each other,” says Matt, even though the actual secret is a blowdart tipped with deadly curare.
The cooking begins, which is a shame as it’s the most boring part of the show. The teams must make five courses, even though it is well known that a meal is made up of three courses. The producers don’t even know how food works.
Manu explains to Pete how to cook salmon, and Pete grins blankly at him. It’s possible it’s not actually Pete, but a cardboard cutout of Pete. Either way, he has no idea what Manu is talking about.
Ibby and Romel are making a raw lamb dish. What is with people on this show wanting to give people raw meat? Last I checked this was a show for humans, not hyenas. How about doing some fucking cooking?
All the losers from the series show up to pass judgment on the people who have been proven to be better than them. Don’t think Victor and G were there. Probably the night of the finale clashed with an appointment to talk about how much they fucking hate the show and everyone associated with it.
The teams’ families also show up, and once again we are invited to feel something at the sight of strangers hugging each other. Doesn’t really work. I’d rather watch a video of kittens.
More cooking. Matt and Luke are combining the duck with stuff. Good move, as duck is always at its best when it is combined with things — a principle established by Keith Floyd. The boys note that the atmosphere of the “restaurant” — where a couple of dozen people are clapping — is similar to Boxing Day at the MCG. This suggests that when Matt and Luke thought they were at the MCG on Boxing Day, it was actually a Sheffield Shield match in early November.
The guest judges show up. In addition to Colin, Guy, Karen, the blonde woman nobody knows, there are also four others who nobody knows. Oh, except Rachel Khoo. We know her because she was on the show once I think. Remember that? Or was she on another show? Pretty sure I remember her name anyway.
Ibby describes wheat to the audience in that charming way he has of making everything he says sound like he’s reading aloud from his own suicide note. Meanwhile Matt and Luke are putting peas in their dish for texture, making the terrible mistake that so many cooks make: thinking anyone likes peas.
Holy shit, Ibby and Romel are serving a dish with turnips. This is genuinely exciting for me because it is the first time I have ever seen anyone outside a Blackadder episode use turnips in anything. I had assumed that turnips aren’t actually food, they’re just a comedic device. The fact there will be turnips in a dish tonight makes this truly the most surprising MKR finale ever. It’s the twist that will change the game forever.
It’s nearly time to serve the first course. First of five. Gonna be a long night, guys. Everyone is clapping and yelling like that’ll help. “Dill, dill, dill!” cries Luke, the synapses in his brain burning out one by one. Finally time is up and the teams embrace each other, feeling proud of themselves that they have technically fulfilled twenty percent of the night’s requirements without knowing whether they did it well or not. “This is not a sprint, this is a marathon,” says Ibby, gloomily.
The judges taste Matt and Luke’s salmon. They think it’s great despite the fact that it contains peas, the Ernie Sigley of vegetables. Of course, the judges taste the dishes without knowing which team cooked which dish, so they have no way of knowing whether the Lebanese dishes were cooked by Ibby and Romel or by some other team that makes Lebanese food for every meal. Oh and Manu and Pete know which is which because they saw them cook it. Some rando judge called Sean is a big fan of raw food, so I don’t know how he can be considered a “chef” at all. “This is what a grand final is all about,” says Pete, referring to the preparation of food by human beings.
The loser teams love Ibby and Romel’s first course. Pat is blown away by their revolting raw crap. Pat’s mind has been soured by years of putting up with Bianca’s vicious abuse.
For second course Ibby and Romel are making shish barak. All Josh knows about shish barak is that Barack is Barack Obama’s name! He finds this joke incredibly funny, and so does Austin because he knows if he doesn’t laugh at his brother’s jokes his brother will beat him. Andy and Ruby don’t find it so funny, because the joke was not made in Peru.
Actually shish barak is a traditional thing of some kind or other the details of which I am in no way interested in. But meanwhile Matt and Luke are putting panna cotta in the fridge, either for dessert or due to a misread of what a second course should be.
I don’t even remember the names of some of these loser contestants. Who’s the annoying blonde woman again? Beryl?
Time is running out for second course and Matt and Luke’s ravioli are sticking together. But then, isn’t sticking together what good ravioli do? Luke isn’t getting enough good ravioli to serve three per plate. Which is bad because even three a plate is a stingy pissy little excuse for a serve.
In years to come we will speak of this as the Ravioli Holocaust of Nineteen. Matt and Luke’s ravioli looks like it’s suffering some horrible disease, and they’ll only have two per plate. It’s an incredibly inadequate dish, but at least there are five courses so I guess it doesn’t matter if one course is blatantly nothing.
On the other hand, it might matter if there’s not enough sauce, and Matt and Luke are facing a problem: there’s not enough sauce. And they don’t even have the excuse of the sauce sticking together — which is what good sauce does. A smart team would serve a single dry raviolo to the loser teams, and three ravioli swimming in sauce to the judges, because it’s the judges who give the scores.
Finally the second course is served. Still three courses to go. Whew.
Matt and Luke are terrified that the judges might notice how pathetic they are. Further bad news from them when Rachel Khoo tastes Ibby and Romel’s non-sticking, non-dry ravioli and says, “I didn’t like this dish at all…I loved it!” Rachel Khoo you unoriginal fuck.
The losers taste Ibby and Romel’s dish and make orgasm noises. Andy and Ruby love it because it’s just like old-style traditional Peruvian ravioli.
The blonde lady really loves Matt and Luke’s inadequate garbage ravioli. Pete likes it too, and thinks it’s probably good to give to newborns.
It’s pretty good how even before the end of the finale, Matt and Luke have become so synonymous with great cooking that they’re on ads for KFC.
There’s a baby in the restaurant. Very unhygienic. Probably violation of the health code to have a baby in a food preparation area.
Ibby says he is there because his dream is to be one of the best hospitality operators in Sydney. Which is odd because “being one of the best hospitality operators in Sydney” is not actually part of the prize. Unless he thinks his clientele will flock to his restaurants for the two weeks that anyone remembers who wins My Kitchen Rules.
In the dining area Andy says she’s not excited by Matt and Luke’s barramundi. There is a long list of the things that don’t excite Andy, and what’s most striking is that she continues to think anyone gives one fuck about what excites her.
For their third course, Ibby and Romel are making a chargrilled octopus, a particularly cruel dish because octopuses are extremely intelligent animals, capable of climbing out of their tank and walking across the room at night to steal oysters or something. Would you chargrill your own children, if they were capable of climbing out of their tank? If not, why would you chargrill an octopus? Far better to be Matt and Luke, who are cooking a barramundi, a fish that is not only unintelligent, but unethical.
Ibby wishes to prove that Middle Eastern food is the best, something that cannot actually be proven via the means of a reality show. Certainly they’ve proven that Middle Eastern food is better than Peruvian food, though as Andy points out, the Middle East was originally in Peru.
“This dish will be an absolute work of art,” says Romel while placing small blobs of what seem to be animal faeces on the plate. It’s a Gilbert and George kind of thing, I guess.
Time is up. Three courses. We’re past the halfway mark. It’s a huge relief to think we only have seven or eight more hours of this to go.
The judges taste Matt and Luke’s barramundi. “There’s a bit of heat in there, which I think is really nice,” says the blonde woman before the other judges scream at her to shut up. But they do like the barramundi. And they appreciate that no sentient beings were harmed, unlike with Ibby and Romel’s sadistic octopus dish. Which makes Colin do a noise. Apparently the octopus is very spicy. “This team is taking us on a very exotic journey,” says Karen, which might be a compliment but also might be a savage insult, as food isn’t supposed to take you on an exotic journey, it’s supposed to taste good.
But warning bells as Pete notes that the octopus is overcooked and probably died while crying for its family.
Ibby describes how the competition has changed his cooking ability. When the show began all he knew how to do was stick a knife in a toaster and electrocute himself: now he is fully aware of how to add food colouring to a rabbit. He and Romel are busy putting cream in bags, ready to mail to their enemies.
Piper pops up to say something stupid in her stupid voice. She goes away.
Matt and Luke are swearing in the kitchen because when it comes to the crunch they just have no frigging idea what they’re doing. Luke has a plan to save his sauce: it involves fake passports.
Ibby does not wish to overcook his kangaroos. Kangaroo needs to be on the rare side of medium, which is why the government has ordered mass culls in some areas. Romel finds the kangaroo is cooked perfectly, if you trust his judgment which I do not.
It’s nearly time to serve the fourth course, when all of a sudden, it is time to serve the fourth course. “This could be the dish that wins us the comp, mate,” says Matt to Luke. Or Luke to Matt. They’re basically interchangeable. It’s a pretty vacuous thing to say, in any case. The judges immediately deduct points.
Rachel Khoo thinks the kangaroo is great, because she imagines that cooking kangaroo isn’t easy. She imagines. No actual knowledge, just speculation. What a fucking hack.
Apparently Matt and Luke’s problematic sauce is quite good. “I can’t pick a hero on the plate because it’s all fabulous,” says the blonde lady, whatsherface. “I think the winner on the plate is that sauce,” says Guy — that sauce has come a long way from when it was just some brown gloop that Luke was crying into.
Time to prepare the final course, which traditionally is poisonous.
Matt and Luke are making a peach thing. Ibby and Romel are making something that Ibby’s grandma used to make, before the disappointment of her family wore her down.
“I think ingraining a love of healthy food is really important,” says Luke, incorrectly. Stop preaching, just cook your bloody peaches, Luke. And how come you talk so much more than Matt? Who do you think you are, Andy?
Ibby is making ice cream. “I’m working like a ninja,” he says, creeping up behind wealthy businessmen with a length of piano wire.
Matt and Luke tip out their panna cottas. They look nice. “I can see my wife, she’s crying!” says Luke. “I can see Matt’s mum, she’s crying!” Both Luke’s wife and Matt’s mum can’t believe they are shackled to these idiots. “This is like a test match,” says Matt. I would be crying too. I mean…I have to stress, making dessert is NOTHING like a test match. Totally different skillsets, rules, audience experience…almost nothing in these two phenomena are equivalent.
With less than five minutes to go, Matt is following Luke around sprinkling nuts, which is how they met in the first place. “We’ve been a fish out of water a little bit in this competition,” says Luke, which is a weird thing to say. Does he mean because it’s a cooking competition and they hate cooking?
Suddenly, disaster strikes, when Ibby drops a bunch of ice creams. Or to put it another way, joyous comedy strikes when Ibby drops a bunch of ice creams. It’s hilarious and heartwarming to see Ibby and Romel in a state of deep distress. Still, they try to make the best of it and find some more ice cream which is a bit of a bummer.
Ibby and Romel’s rescued ice cream is melting. “This dessert doesn’t look like a work of art,” says Romel, regretting not adding a fresh coat of paint to the bowls.
Dessert is served. The judges love the panna cotta. Rachel Khoo loves the way it wobbled with anticipation: it reminds her of a boob she saw once. Colin wanted more peach. One of the rando judges thinks Colin is full of shit. Colin has no comeback.
The judges taste Ibby and Romel’s whatever it is. It’s good I suppose. It had salt in it which is apparently nice. “Yes, it’s melted, but that comes down to technique and learning,” says a rando judge. But…that’s what they’re judging, isn’t it? What is this “technique and learning” crap? “The dish sucked, but that’s just because the cooks aren’t good — can’t hold that against them.”
The Finder ads where Manu talks about knives is very menacing.
“This is it — it’s the moment of our lives,” says Romel. “We’re not here for the money, we’re here for the title,” says Ibby, the dumbass. Matt and Luke offer the observation that MKR is harder than playing cricket, which is true because they play cricket at a very low standard.
As Luke’s baby cries, infuriated by the artifice and shallow venality on display in this orgiastic celebration of capitalist excess, the judges give their scores. Not that interesting: it’s just people saying numbers. And after those numbers are said, the winners are…
No, wait, we have to listen to the judges blather on for ages. Jesus, every single fucking judge is going to make a speech. Imagine working so hard to cook all those courses and then having to stand there and listen to this nonsense. On and on they go…Jesus wept.
But after about fifteen weeks of talking, the scores are FINALLY given, and the winners are…
Nope, gonna talk a bit more.
OK, NOW the winners are…
“Just a few moments from now,” says Manu. Oh fucking hell.
I think they’re about to say the scores — nope, the teams are going to provide a bit more commentary. But after THAT, the winners are…
IBBY AND ROMEL!
And then, they film the whole thing over again with Matt and Luke winning, and when the show airs on the night, the winners are…
MATT AND LUKE!
Which is nice. Especially the bit where Ibby and Romel lost.
Tune in next year, when half the teams will be racist survivalists and the other half manic-depressive quadriplegics.
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