MASTERCHEF SEASON FOUR

So, we back on the treadmill again.

As The Biggest Loser bows out for another season, Masterchef; one of Channel 10’s biggest ratings pullers, slips comfortably into the fray.

I normally don’t watch this stage of the show, because I don’t give two craps about the top fifty numpties.  I’m only interested in the battle between the top twenty-four.

However, following the annoying fucken promotional ads with this ridiculous Russian sounding music and fantasy, magical back drop with the annoying Lucy (I know her name now), that cannot cook fish and likes to crack eggs from the top of a cliff into a massive, magical cooking bowl, I thought it may be interesting.

Shame the rest of the country didn’t agree.

Would appear that for the first time in God knows how long, that the Masterchef ratings have dropped below one million viewers for an episode.  Usually, they’re well over the million mark. 

So, it’s either the fact that people like myself, don’t give two craps about the top fifty numpties, or they’re busy watching The Block and The Voice.  Apparently, these two shows have smashed Masterchef out of the water.

The one thing I have learnt about watching the intro episodes is that not only can these people cook, but they’re cooking stuff that I can cook.

Like, I’ve had friends tell me for years ‘you should go on Masterchef!’ ‘You should totes go on that show!’

No fucken way.

Not only can I not cook like a Masterchef cooks (thank you Curtis Stone), but I could not handle the circus.  The invasion of privacy, the constant camera’s in your face, the pressure and the edited version of ‘you’ that’s presented to the Masterchef viewing world.

No way.

Plus, I figure I can always go to TAFE to gain some cooking qualifications, and either find a job or do my own thing.  I don’t need Masterchef to make my dreams come true.

Watching the top fifty numpties, makes me wonder why they are so desperate.  One of them said the other night ‘who’s going to give a 42 year old an apprenticeship?’ I understand that, but fucken go to TAFE or something.  Volunteer on weekends at restaurants for experience in a commercial kitchen.  Take the step toward following your dreams, and make it happen.

I don’t know why they don’t just say ‘I don’t want to open a restaurant; I don’t want to follow my culinary dream.  I just want to win the title, the book deal and the $100,000.’  Thank you very much.

What’s funny though, is watching these people that think they are awesome cooks, completely crumble under the pressure.

Sure, if we’re cooking things we are familiar with, we will (or should) nail it every time.  At this stage of the competition, that’s exactly what these people should be doing.  There’s no pressure yet.

For fucks sake: they’re given a whole chicken, and hour and a half, and told to cook whatever you like.  How fucken hard is that?  I expect perfection, and so do the judges.  That’s why they set these seemingly simplistic challenges; to sort the quality from the crap. 

Sometimes, the most basic challenge can be the most demanding. They get lost in all the fancy shit and the need to impress the judges, and forget the basic foundations of cooking.

Like filleting a fish.  Some of these contestants should be arrested for vandalism.  Seriously. 

However, watching them run around like headless chickens, totally out of their comfort zones, panicking because they’re dropping their dishes, have no eggs to make their tart, haven’t cooked their chook all the way through, haven’t worked out the hotplates, and clearly can’t cook a risotto, is hilarious.

How hard is a risotto to cook?  I can bang one out in thirty minutes that you would find most digestible.  Wtf?

Apparently, we are watching the fifty best amateur cooks in the country. 

No; we’re not. 

Let’s be under no illusions here.  Out of the people that turned up to the auditions, they’re the best fifty.

The best amateur cooks are possibly at home either too scared or too realistic to enter a show like Masterchef.

So already, we’re already starting to see some interesting personalities.  The youth worker with red hair; could you get any more stereotypical?  The cool American dude that won the first apron with his maple chicken (I so want that recipe *runs off to check out the Masterchef website*), the Asian chick that cooked the eggless tart, and Jules, who apparently cooks a smashing pork belly. 

Then there’s my man to watch: Filipo.  He’s hard core, man; hard core.  He’s clearly passionate about his cooking, to the point where he knows what the resting temperature of a chicken should be, to indicate that it’s cooked.

I wouldn’t have a clue what the resting temperature should be (apparently, 72 degrees).  I just know that it’s cooked if the juices run clear when I fucken stab it.

Here’s a tip: I would have checked my chicken the old school (stabbing) way before handing it to the judges, because clearly, your thermometer was wrong!

I get uncomfortable watching Filipo, because he’s so hard core and so earnest.  He’s my tip for the win, because I think he will have a serious heart attack if he doesn’t.

Of course, that’s if he doesn’t annoy the crap out of everyone first.

So, I’m waiting for my token Asian gay, contestants with funky glasses, hot chicks, hot boys, someone really young (not the risotto boy), someone with quirky flavour combinations that produce winners all the time, and the homely ‘mum’. 

Throw in an old dude, and Indian and a yuppy, and you got yourself a competition.

Peace out.