Thank you for the pain

Once again, Adriano made them weep in Masterchef.  The only man who can make the word "V8" really mean a weight-loss program - from too much stress and frustration, that is. Vanilla took on a sinister persona of multiple layers, made the contestants shake and chocolate melt.  Even the macaroon tower and croquembouche would have paled in colour compared to the devil wrapped in angel's clothing that was that cake.

What struck me about this challenge was not just the difficulty - all pressure tests in the Masterchef kitchen are tested at least twice by a trained chef beforehand to get the timing correct for contestants, so imagine the poor dude who had to make this dish twice.  That is EIGHT hours of his life, at the very bare minimum, gone and dusted, to make sure the dish could be done right in that time.  No, the marathon was not what struck me. 


It was the extreme opposite of yesterday's team challenge, which featured crustaceans in their glory.  Both teams opted for an Asian themed banquet, featuring XO mud crab in all its chilli-spicy glory (imagine the mess of shells afterwards), lobster steamed in spring onion & sesame oil, prawn congee (at least that is what THEY called it - every single person who had ever had congee would have baulked at the sight of it), lobster dumplings and prawn scotch egg with coconut & chilli sambal (no, not a dish I will ever attempt).  Both teams looked like they had real fun.  We all drooled watching the presentation.


Asian heat and seafood mess.  Sweet detail and layered exactness.  Aiyeee. I don't know about you, but I know that asking untrained people to be able to be good, nay, excellent at both savoury and sweet dishes that take professional chefs years to master pushes the boundaries so far that Masterchef is not just "a blend of Iron Chef, original Masterchef UK and Survivor".  It has almost gone into extreme human endurance and creativity.  Is this really the reason we watch it so devoutly?  To see whether people collapse or rise up to challenges that we would not dare to face unless we were obsessive with perfection and taste, persistent in improving our basic cooking skills and writing new recipes, and had a magazine-perfect kitchen?


Now excuse me while I watch stand-up comedians debate about whether food is indeed better than sex.  Paul actually is doing a pretty decent job for the affirmative.  No mention of  chocolate, vanilla or crustaceans either.