Masterchef Recap: You’re Right, I’m Left, She’s Gone
With Nigella Week over, the Masterchef kitchen is a sad and flaccid place, where honey no longer drips and dreams of oiled thighs no more dance like visions of sugarplums in the young chef’s mind’s loin.
Still, even in the absence of a JILF (Judge I’d Like to…), Masterchef must go on, and it’s time for another mystery box, albeit a box far less mysterious than the box they deciphered last week. This week’s mystery box carries a special prize, however — not a lame prize like most lame weeks. This week the winner of the mystery box challenge will proceed directly to the next immunity challenge, allowing them to laugh mockingly at the feeble rabble they leave behind.
The mystery box contains such delicious items as pork, miso, barramundi, and sweet corn, which causes George to list a number of things he’d like to make with sweet corn and declare that he wants to win the mystery box challenge, having become so carried away he’s forgotten he’s not a contestant.
“Brett” is excited about the barramundi because he used to live in Darwin, where barramundi is really the only source of entertainment. Meanwhile Chloe is drawn to the beetroot, lime and vanilla, because she is hoping to make a particularly disgusting dessert.
Zoe boldly declares that she wants to do really well, a strategy that could prove a blessing or a curse: many of those who have failed in the past wanted to do well too, so it’s far from foolproof. Also she’s making smoky ice cream and is quite mad.
“Do you want that advantage?” yells George pointlessly: of course they want the advantage, you simpleton.
Meanwhile someone called Trent is apparently on this show, having turned to cooking as a way out of his previous career as Tom Cochrane. Matt wanders over to Trent’s bench to ask him if he’s got broth for his dumplings. Trent, pathetically unable to tell when somebody is flirting with him, says he doesn’t. Matt subtly hints that Trent is an imbecile. Trent decides to make some broth.
It is now time for a montage of the life of “Brett”, the airline pilot who spends every flight daydreaming about becoming a chef, or on a bad day, of flying into a mountain. He dreams of opening a restaurant with his daughters, because he can’t think of anything better to do with them. He says that in today’s challenge he plans to “push the boat out”, which is a piece of technical pilots’ jargon, meaning “push the plane out”.
Note well: as we’ve seen a montage of Brett’s life, he is either going to do very well or very badly today — we have been instructed to start caring about him as soon as possible.
Meanwhile Matt the Amateur is taking a massive risk by trying to make a dish within one hour even though it takes longer than that to make. People often take this kind of risk on this show, and it does make you wonder why they don’t all wake the hell up to themselves.
Meanwhile Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull declares that four billion dollars is a lot of money. Whether you agree with this or not, you must admit it’s good to see the debate happening.
Back in the kitchen, Matt the Amateur lets us know that the five most interesting dishes are the ones that will be tasted. This is of course totally incorrect: actually it’s the five best-looking dishes that will be tasted — a live possum gnawing its own leg off would be interesting, but has rarely been selected for tasting in a mystery box challenge.
Meanwhile Zoe’s cake isn’t cooking quick enough, so she ratchets up the temperature in a move which has always gone very very well for everyone who’s ever done it. Over at Anastasia’s bench the pork is in the pressure cooker…if you know what I mean.
Yes, what I mean is the pork is in the pressure cooker. Much like Matt the Amateur, Anastasia has cleverly decided to cook a dish that takes longer than an hour, in an hour. Well played.
George asks the other judges’ permission to say that he loves the sound of everyone’s dishes. They give their permission, and he does so. “I wanna eat everyone’s food!” George announces, outlining his life philosophy neatly.
With ten minutes to go, Trent notices something is not right with his dumplings, and quickly makes an appointment with his urologist. Meanwhile Zoe’s oven is up to 250 and the middle of her cake is still not cooking. With four minutes to go, the cake is in the lap of the gods, and her ice cream cries out for freedom.
Trent has reshaped his dumplings and it sounds painful. Matt the Amateur is concerned his pork isn’t crispy enough. Zoe is panicking about her ugly cake. All is despair and melancholy.
Time is up. “I had to push myself to places I wouldn’t normally go,” says Trent, in a dark allusion to his participation in the film Cannibal Holocaust.
Before the mystery box dishes are tasted, PM Turnbull chips in to note that Chris Bowen wrote a book about reducing company tax, to which Bill Shorten responds by observing that the prime minister once went to Penrith.
The amateurs ruminate on this revelation while the judges decide whose dishes look sufficiently like food to call up. First up is “Brett”, with his crispy barramundi and disregard for aviation safety. Matt tells him it’s “delicious”, while George says the fish is “cooked beautiful”, and Gary smiles like a “garden gnome”. Brett reveals that his daughters are currently jumping around the lounge room, and implores his babysitter to exert some discipline.
Anastasia comes up with her sticky pork and reflects on how awesome she is. George tells her it needed more salt. Matt tells her it needed to be cooked more. Gary tells her that it’s perfect and she shouldn’t listen to those dicks.
Next: Trent’s dumplings. Gary compliments him on his choice of bowl, which doesn’t augur all that well, does it? But Trent proves to be more than just a pretty bowl — Gary tells him that his dumplings have primed his tastebuds, and what better and more confusing compliment could one ask for? Trent feels like he’s turned a corner, into a fun new street full of dumplings.
Zoe brings forward her delicious weird smoky ice cream and her disgusting lumpy cake. Matt longs for a universe in which the ice cream exists and the cake doesn’t. The dichotomy between Zoe’s cake and Zoe’s ice cream is commented on by all the judges, who no doubt see it as a metaphor for the duality of life itself.
Last is Chloe with her revolting beetroot lime muck. The judges taste and begin banging the table with their spoons: the dish has torn their tongues from their mouths. It’s just a bluff — they love the terrible beetroot lime monstrosity, and Chloe wins the mystery box challenge and goes through to the immunity challenge, which is lucky because knowing Chloe she would definitely have ended up in elimination. That’s kind of her thing.
And so everyone except Chloe must undergo the invention test, in which they must cook using the leftovers from the mystery box. And speaking of leftovers, Bill Shorten wants to send his immigration minister to the United Nations, which I suppose is one way of getting rid of him. On the other hand Prime Minister Turnbull is concerned that people smugglers use social media. Both make good points — if only the mystery box of politics were as easy to turn into a delicious meal as is the mystery box of food.
Anyway back to HQ, and yes they must cook using the leftovers, including food scraps, offcuts, pieces of dry skin and blood left on utensils, etc. The keyword today is “creativity”, ie “disguising the essential awfulness of your ingredients.
“I love cooking for leftovers,” says Heather, the Mary Sunshine of the Masterchef kitchen. She is making a dish dedicated to her mother, which she says comes “from the heart”, meaning…well, nothing really, it’s just something they say on this show.
Mimi confides her darkest secret: she wishes to win. And her even darker secret: she loves coriander and lime. In fact she is putting coriander and lime in ice cream, which is exactly what Jeff Goldblum meant when he said, “You were so excited that you could, you didn’t stop to think whether you should.”
“Brett” is out to prove that, contrary to the critics’ claims, he is a contestant on this show. He will do this via a pork recipe that he thought up one day while ignoring an alarming drop in cabin pressure.
Matt the Amateur is ripping into his fish’s belly with all the zeal of a young Peter Sutcliffe. Have you ever noticed that Matt the Amateur’s occupation is listed as “coffee roaster”? That’s a bit weird isn’t it?
Meanwhile Karmen is extremely worried because she has to make something savoury, and according to her she doesn’t “do savoury”. This means that she really should quit the competition now, because what the hell kind of bush league cooking show does she think this is?
No time to dwell on Karmen’s delusions: “Brett” is in big trouble, and not just with the Civil Aviation Authority. As he flies into a panic, Malcolm Turnbull points out Bill Shorten’s biggest flaw: he has nothing to say about growth. It’s a dreadful faux pas by Shorten and could well cost him the crucial growth-aficionado vote. Shorten thanks the prime minister for his comments but you can tell his heart’s not in it.
A heart that is very much in it is “Brett’s”, and it is that very heart that sinks as his mayonnaise goes horribly wrong, in what has to be the oldest story in the book. He could really use some help, but George and Gary are busy making Theresa doubt herself. Befuddled by their contradictory advice, she decides to make a corn custard tart, which is just about as bad as it gets in this sad world.
“I’m loving this challenge,” chuckles Gary, feeding on the amateurs’ delicious pain. “There’s a massive spring in their step,” observes George, completely misinterpreting the contestants’ drunken staggers.
Elise has several ingredients left and decides to make “the perfect dessert”, but may have left it too late, and may have left herself too untalented. Meanwhile Heather is cold-smoking her barramundi, causing the sprinkler system to go off and the building to be evacuated. On the balcony Chloe makes it clear that she is on Team Heather and all other contestants can suck it.
Back to Karmen, who sounds as excited about her dish as a woman who has just discovered a reasonably priced chamois at Autobarn. She’s going to pickle her beetroot to “add a bit of freshness to the dish”, a phrase she seems to have gotten confused with “ruin everything and make God hate me”.
Speaking of God hating people…oh no the debate is over, it’s Midsomer Murders now. Anyway, George says Elise’s mixture is incredibly thick, which is hypocritical of him. “Let’s hope the ideas you had in the beginning were good ones,” shouts Gary, with jubilant cruelty three minutes from the end.
Meanwhile disaster has struck Charlie, whose mould has betrayed him for the last time. Faring better is Matt the Amateur, who is whipping up a miso dressing like the salad-sucking poltroon that he is.
Back to Karmen, who is happy with her dish. “It really pops,” she drones, a la Gary Numan. With ten seconds to go, the video editor is working overtime to fit about half an hour’s footage into the ten seconds of the judges counting down.
Time is up. “I’m super happy,” says Karmen, but nobody’s told her voice, which is at a funeral.
Tasting time, and Matt the Amateur comes up first. “You have no idea of the pleasure!” Gary pants, bent over with ecstasy. “That is making the hair on the back of my neck stand up,” he adds, not realising that this is actually a symptom of anaphylactic shock.
Charlie comes up with miso ice cream and a sweet corn crumb and a small jug of what appears to be petrified vomit. This does not please the judges as much as you might’ve expected. “I’d prefer a nice clean bowl, a beautiful quinelle of ice cream,” says Gary, leaving unspoken the naked truth: he’d actually prefer having an iguana feed on his foreskin than this muck.
Heather is lucky enough to follow Charlie and therefore knows no matter how much she sucks she’ll look great by comparison. And as foretold, the judges love her fish, whose greatest virtue is its total lack of similarity to a jug of petrified vomit.
“Brett” serves up a dish that he hates and is told he needs sauce. He goes away disappointed but happy that at least he’s not on a plane. A bunch of other not-total-losers wander up and down to the judges’ table, given just a couple of seconds of screen time each to denote the tedious nature of their work.
Now time for Karmen, whose dish, according to Gary, makes sense, which is more than you can say for Karmen. Matt loves the sweetness of the pickle that she’s used on the beetroot, which is simply insane. “My mouth is salivating!” cries George, and that’s a big deal for him, as usually it’s the back of his knee that salivates.
Theresa is next up, and she is not proud of her dish. Her dish is a bad seed. But is it nature or nurture that makes it so? Neither — it’s incompetence. The judges turn away from her in disgust: they trusted her and she has thrown their trust back in their faces.
Mimi brings forward her coriander ice cream and lime syrup cake and the judges, intrepid to the end and not fearing death, taste it. “I think it’s really restrained, it’s clever,” says Gary, referring to the hit Robert Altman film Gosford Park. He likes the food too, even though it’s weird.
It is judgment day, and the judges have been doing pull-ups to prepare themselves. Charlie’s heart starts to sink, which is weird: you’d have thought it would start to sink ages ago, back when the judges told him he sucked and it became very obvious he would be in the bottom three. Maybe it took a breather from all the sinking and is just now continuing its downward journey.
The top three dishes were Matt the Amateur’s “flavour bomb”, Karmen’s “deadpan dreadnaught”, and Mimi’s “cake”.
“Today was all about high standards,” says George, who has had a rough weekend and can’t be arsed thinking up an interesting thing for today to be all about. Those who did not meet the high(ish) standards and must be punished are Theresa, Charlie and “Brett”. They will face off in a pressure test at the end of which one of the three will be forced to confront the reality of their own self-image.
Tune in tomorrow night, when the three losers must cook a quail and evade animal welfare officers simultaneously.
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