In honour of the Masterchef Australia 2016 Finale Tuesday night, I whacked the PJ’s on early, totally owned the couch and cracked open a celebratory packet of twisties (original cheese flavour of course; because, hey, I am totally on trend with food). Having served up a mystery bolognese for dinner that I found in the freezer, I had earned my place in this final. The kids were in bed, and despite a few rumblings about drinks and teddies, blah blah blah, from their room, I was completely ‘in the zone’. Hit me.
Enter the Fat Controller and the Minions.
Oh stop it, Anna. Unkind. But too late. Now my mind was sliding back to kid’s stuff.
You see, Mummying just doesn’t ‘switch off.’
My mummy brain had returned and this is how I watched the Masterchef drama unfold.
Quail. Oh crap. You see, I have never quite understood quail as a dish. We used to have some as pets when I was a child, and there they were, all nude and bony and tiny. What exactly do you eat? Imagine gnawing away on those drummies…bugger, did I get the drumsticks out of the freezer for tomorrow night?
And marron; looks delish. I really need to get more seafood into our diet. Do fish fingers count?
Now I liked round 2. More my style. Lamb and vegies. And I often twice cook food; albeit unintentionally, more of a “shit, that’s not cooked. I’d better throw it on the pan,” kinda way. Sure; I was bothered by the molasses. That sticky stuff that we used to feed out to the calves if they were poorly on the farm. Momentarily repulsed, but onwards and upwards.
As for crispy skinned barra – lordy yes; and with BACON! (sorry big controller and minions; I mean ‘pancetta’). Add bacon to a dish and I am all over it. But wait right there. They ‘plated up’ (totally love that term and use it any chance I get; very fancy), and I was a bit lost. They just put tiny little drips of this here, and an oh so careful splat of that there. And flowers? Masterpiece? Yes. A perfect dish? It would appear so. Would it work on the kids drumsticks, rice and broccoli for tomorrow night? No. Just…no.
And now of course, the piece de resistance. It was time to ‘crack on’ to the egg.
Enter Masterchef’s very own crazy magician to present his 91 step dessert. 91 steps I tell you. And that does NOT include fighting over the placement of the kids kitchen steps, or who gets to lick the bowl. Initially, I just thought it was a fancy boiled egg. Perfect. Egg and soldiers; something I could serve to the kids. But wait; no toast?
Truly, Heston; what a masterpiece. It did make me hanker for a Cadbury crème egg just as much, but still…yum. Did someone mention chocolate? Time to hit up the secret pantry stash me thinks.
Oh but NO. Now I remember why I cannot cope watching these shows. I felt sick, and it had nothing to do with the now churning twisties and M&M’s .
“Stick the egg together, mate,” I pleaded.
“ONE MINUTE REMAINING,” boomed the Large Control Man.
And there it was.
The moment that won the game and the hearts of all.
She ‘helped’ him. As he stumbled at the finish line, she picked him up.
Now THAT is a moment I could incorporate into my kitchen and home; stuff the cooking.
But what was this? Tears of joy, just turned to tears. The music changed and my stomach lurched.
The egg was hatching?
Sorry Masterchef Australia 2016. I turned the TV off.
I.COULD.NOT.BEAR. IT.
So, along with the rest of Western Australia, I learnt the result via social media.
Even so, I wanted to say, “Thank you, Masterchef.”
This series changed me. You see; my expectations have risen. As I ‘plated up’ vegemite toast this morning, I waited for my ticker tape moment to shower down. But…well…no.
“I WANT JAM!”
Geeze…bring on The Bachelor.
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