Celebrity Masterchef is on tonight. It’s grazing TV, rather than TV you want to feast on, and then lick the plate. I wander over to the television, have a quick look at who’s on and what they’re making, and then I wander off. Meanwhile I watch River Cottage on ABC and I want to have what Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s having.
The competition lacks spice. As Matt Preston would say, it doesn’t do it for me. It’s got all the parts, but something else is needed to make it special. Sure there is competition, but it’s not in the I-am-going-to-hide-your-highest-grade-saffron nature of the first Masterchef series where these people filled millions of living rooms for weeks. There is no psychological warfare. Three people come in, clang a few pans, overcook one or two parts of the dish, and are all terribly polite, as the judges decide which elements will count more in the final tally. Everyone’s doing their bit for a good cause, for fun. “Yes I want to win,” they say. I don’t doubt it’s hard cooking and plating up in front of a camera, but what would be really interesting would be to see the celebrities holed up together in a Masterchef Celebrity house deciding who’s going to do the washing up. And for their secret weapon dish they could be plotting how they will prepare a Tetsuya-style floating island dessert injected by pipette ( in truth I don’t know how he does it) with bursts of raspberry and chocolate. (Sublime at the moment the taste buds hit the raspberry or chocolate.)
