Bullet Point Mondays: Master Chef Australia

I've been a fan of cooking shows and whatnot for as long as I can remember. We didn't have cable growing up, so it was Wok with Yan and his "wonder powder", and Cooking with the Dazas. I've always dreamt of cooking with all my ingredients neatly laid out on the counter in little tiny clear bowls. It has yet to come into fruition because omg can you imagine the cleanup?

These days, thanks to the internet, I have access to virtually every cooking show ever produced, and I just watch whatever I get my hands on, really. Top Chef remains to be my favorite, especially Masters, although I did rage quit one season the moment Takashi Yagihashi got eliminated. I loved him in that show. I also liked the earlier years of Hell's Kitchen, and will always cherish that moment when Gordon Ramsay called someone a donkey, but there's only so much raw scallops you can serve before it ceases to be amusing. Similarly, I also liked the earlier seasons of MasterChef US, and it did not occur to me that I would miss Joe "I process food with my brain" Bastianich until he left. The current season is just so very meh, so I decided it was time to move on to the greener pastures that is MasterChef Australia.

So I began watching the current season and my goodness. It's like night and day.
  • Let's begin with Matt Preston's trousers. They have more personality than that new judge in the US version.
  • And George is like a mini-Joe Bastianich, except likeable.
  • One of their guest judges is freaking Marco Pierre White, who used to make Gordon Ramsay his bitch. 
  • Granted, he does do a lot a proselytising, almost ("When you have a dream, it is your duty to achieve it." Well NO SHIT Marco), but when he broke down that lamb carcass it was pure beauty. Also, it's not like you can shut him up; the guy has serious Hannibal Lecter vibes. 
  • The US version gets its entertainment value from pitting one crazy contestant against another; the Australian version assumes that the cook, sans the snarky comments and the bitching about in general, is sufficient to entertain the viewer. And I guess it is, because they have a crapton of episodes. Season 7 has 62. SIXTY effin TWO. At roughly an hour and a half each, it has undeniably been a significant part of my life over the last couple of weeks (I marathoned and managed to catch up before today's finale). 
  • The skill level is... not even close. Not by a mile. As an example, this is the dish that eliminated Rose in episode forty-something of MasterChef Australia:
  • She managed to finish Janice Wong's Cassis Plum desert, but it was just not good enough.
  • And this is the dish that sent Charlie out of the running for MasterChef US:
  • He frosted it with his bare hands. I have nothing more to say.
  • There is one Filipino contestant in this season of MasterChef Australia, and it breaks my heart that he had to be such an insufferable ass. And not in a Dale Talde way where you kinda think "maybe he has issues and once he resolves them sees a therapist he will be less of a douche"; it's in an "I really want nothing more than to punch you in the face" kind of way. White chocolate velouté. Never again.
  • I am now watching the season finale. I've never been so emotionally invested in a sugar ball. 
  • I AM NOT CRYING. I AM NOT CRYING OVER A STUPID SUGAR BALL THAT POPPED.
  • And just like that, season's over. I don't know what to do with my life now. Maybe I should, I don't know, "hero" something.
P.S. You can order a Matt Preston standee here.

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