Photo © Network Ten
So the search for Australia’s Masterchef is over and done with for another year… well until they begin auditioning next year’s contestants, which I do believe starts all over again in a couple of months. I can now go back to accepting dinner invitations without sneakily checking my Twitter to see who buggered up, who had a breakdown over pastry and who looked smug while retelling tales of an opponent’s failure in the kitchen.
We laughed, we cried (well I didn’t because I’m tough and refuse to let a cooking show break me) and we’ve yelled at the TV: “For God’s sake! Take it off the hot plate Claire, how many times can you forget you are cooking on a cooking show?”
My partner was a reluctant Masterchef viewer. In the beginning he would ignore it completely and concentrate on his laptop or reading while I talked to the television. “Adele, seriously if you cry again… it’s over”. After a couple of months he would loiter near the couch, stand like he was going to go and do something else but end up watching most of the show. This evolved into him perched on the side of the couch then eventually sitting down and being fully sucked in, asking me relevant questions such as.
“Who’s the hot one?”
“Fiona.”
“Why does the red head speak with such faux restraint?”
“She’s a lawyer.”
“Who washes up?”
Best question EVER!
“Probably a runner.”
We would have bets in elimination episodes as to who was leaving. We’d judge not by the cooking but by which contestant looked like they had panda cry eyes during the talking heads segments while retelling their elimination experiences.
Things I won’t miss: Masterchef made me hungry, even when I had already had dinner. Watching Matt Preston, sluggishly chewing with his eyes closed and that bloody fiery saucepan that exploded every time something interesting happened, making us wait through an ad break.
Who’d have thought that a cooking show would ‘capture a nation’ and create some massive (albeit probably temporary) celebrities? Marion, Claire and Callum all featured in the trash mags this week, even getting papped walking along beaches and shopping in markets. Who’d have thought?
I’m happy for a mini Masterchef respite, mainly to get out and see friends who think I’m dead and to walk off a couple of the extra TV induced kilos. Til next year, my culinary companion.
How will you fill the Masterchef void?
The opinions expressed in the 7pm Side Project blog do not necessarily reflect those of the 7PM Project or the Ten Network
