As I wait with baited breath for Masterchef Australia to kick off again, God defend New Zealand for giving us their local version of the world dominating amateur cooking competition show.
Hosted by the Kiwi* that runs Gordon Ramsay’s restaurant in Melbourne, the Kiwi that trained with Gordon Ramsay before he opened Euro in Auckland and some other mumsy bloke with nerdy glasses who one can only assume did not train with Gordon Ramsay, I am inclined to think that this is my favourite of the global versions. Quite simply, the myriad influence on NZ cuisine and the resulting fusion cooking is exceptional.
Every week, the contestants are throwing out dishes that combine international flavours with the best local ingredients. Ok, so they cook the world’s best lamb, kiwi fruit, manuka honey and harpuka pretty much every week.
Cameron, my favourite contestant, who is either a security guard in an R&B nightclub, or a forward for the All Blacks when he isn’t fricasseeing something, always seems amazed that he is even on the show let alone winning more than half of the challenges. In a recent Spanish challenge, another favourite, Michael, of Chinese origin, thought Spain was in South America. The student contender has an encyclopaedic knowledge of Asian cuisine but hasn’t yet extended his curiosity beyond the Indian Ocean. And of course everything is voiced over by a bloke with a crazy Kiwi accent. So much fun for the Australian viewer as they run for their Chilly Bins!
However, taking the Toque for best cooking show has to be Top Chef France.
Coming to a ratings dominating conclusion on Monday night when Stephanie injected olive oil into ice cream to take the title from runner up Fanny (yes I giggled), the significant advantage of this show, compared to other amateur, or non-French versions, is that the competitors are fully trained French Michelin starred chefs. So they can actually like, you know, cook.
Completing challenges that went from feeding ox-tongue to children to cooking in a 5 star Parisian Hotel restaurant, the pinnacle of the two-month epicurean epic was the challenge that required feeding typical French foods to… the English. The six contestants were required to delight the taste buds of three English judges with an ingredient chosen from under a cloche that was very particular to France; snails, frog’s legs, lambs tongues, blood sausage, and andouillettes. This last of the ingredients is actually a sort of Toulousain haggis made from pig’s tripe stuffed into a pig’s stomach. If I can just go out on a limb here, are the good folk of Toulouse, proportionately wealthy in the Hexagone thanks to the local Airbus factory, so hard up for cash that they need to eat the guts stuffed with guts of an animal that itself eats the s**t of other animals? God only knows what it must smell like!
But back to the challenge.
Each contestant decided to mince, crumb and fry their particular item because, in case you don’t know, and I didn’t, English people only eat fried things. Citizen though not resident of the Land of Hope and Glory, I was rather offended by their ongoing commentary of how badly they eat in England and how little taste they have, but I was soon proved wrong. The girl who took home the prize made fried frogs legs balls served with pistachio tartare sauce.
Well then, bitter much about losing the six nations?
* Clarification for the French. Kiwi in English is Kiwifruit. Even people from New Zealand refer to themselves as Kiwis saving the much longer New Zealander and I promise that no one is offended. The moniker comes from their national bird, not green fruit.
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Posted by: Nike Air Max | 04/27/2011 at 10:12 AM