Masterchef – finally the judges have something to do
It’s the last chance challenge. The three losing cooks from last night’s rabbit rampage will battle it out over apple, caramel and pastry. We get Julie, Linda and Aaron clip packages and, for one of these three, it will be the last time. Julie wants to cook good food for people beyond her family. Linda wants to be the next female Jamie Oliver. (As much as I find both Linda and Jamie annoying, she is annoying in a way that suggests sedatives. I’m guessing more she’d be more Delia.) Aaron is still in the thrall of molecular gastronomy. No, really, he’s totally committed to it. There’s no way he’ll betray that passion when pressed in the final judgment. Seriously, it would go against his principles to disavow MG.
Our three have 45 minutes to create a tarte tatin. They have all the ingredients on their workspaces, a recipe, and roving judges to offer suggestions. There is some concern over the thickness of Linda’s apples, whether Aaron has given his tarte enough oven time, and whether Julie’s will work at all, but when plating up comes, all desserts plop out easily enough.
Tartes are tasted, brows are theatrically furrowed and comments are weighed.
The judges need more information. Like an awkward suitor, each contestant has to come clean about their intentions. Can Julie hack it away from her family? Will she just use the experience to cook nicer food for her family? Will Linda stop serving shit? Will Aaron admit he prefers the chemistry set? I get the sense that the judges will just boot the first person who cries.
More deliberation, further dramatic pausing… and it’s goodbye Linda, who was also the first to crack under the judges’ inquisition. Of course, the fuckery (tip of the hat to my host, RR) doesn’t end there. The judges prompt the surviving two to eulogise Linda in an attempt to provoke more tears.
Jesus, three people took an hour of tele to cook one dish each, with a recipe and guidance from two chefs. In Masterchef UK, at least 15 meals are prepared in 30 minutes. Pick up the pace, Ten!
I’ll leave the last word to Linda: “I hahd to cook rahbit!”