Master chef is the name of a TV show here in the UK where up and coming Gordon Ramseys’ cook something and a judge decides who has produced the best meal wins! Well, that’s how it seems to me from what I’ve seen so far. I caught the show by accident as wifey watches it avidly together with that other program where they all go scatty baking a cake.
I don’t want to seem as though I’m deriding any chefs or Master chef the show, but you have to understand that I like a meal. I mean a meal that has potatoes, peas, beans, gravy, meat or fish and perhaps a good old fashioned Yorkshire pudding. A meal that will leave me feeling full and satisfied after eating it.
There’s not enough to feed a Budgie fitted with a gastric band!
These chefs seem to run around, sweating their gonads off under pressure to come up with an original meal within a set period of time. I admire that, I really do because it’s something I could never do. However, the end result appears to be a plate with some strands of grass, a dollop of something that looks like a dumpling and some squiggly bits around the edge, usually in green, brown or yellow. There’s not enough to feed a budgie fitted with a gastric band!
There’s a panel of experts, all waiting to taste the produce of the chefs hard work, hanging around like a bunch of starved vultures, going in for the kill.
“Ooh, you can taste the orange in this and the delightful explosion of vanilla on your taste buds are just sublime.”
“I think the Tashmella is under cooked, but I love the Dopamine sauce!”
One tiny teaspoonful and the whole lot is gone. Not even a crust of bread to mop up the squiggly bits. Give me a carvery any day, as much as you want to eat and a super ‘Chocolate by Death’ for pudding. It may not be as healthy as the Master chef cuisine, but I think I’ll take my chances rather than starve to death.
If you’re interested in running around like a nincompoop all day to make a plate of thin air, more info here: Masterchef