Big Bread

Loved last night's Masterchef.
Or should I call it Mistresschef.
That flippiing Shaneanananananan or whatever her name is, is giving me the pip. Talk about Big Head!
Why, it's as if the 29 year old knows the outcome already. BTW 29 going on 49.
Her fake surprise at being told how marvellous and fabulous her plates are irritates me no end.
Yes, she does present a good plate of nosh but please don't seem surprised/stunned when Greg and John tell you so.
In other words no false humility please.

Meanwhile the real stars of the show, for me at least, are Eamon and Aki, you get the whole caboodle of emotions from these super amateurs. I adore Aki's face, panic and unclean clothes. My twin perhaps.....
Eamon cries. And you know how much I love real men.
I was willing Greg and John to keep him in and so they did, methinks Shannenenenenen has some competition...
The Scottish girl was toast.
Tattooed Jay is kinda cool and hot and knows his onions, he isn't my type of man though, his eyes are too sunken, but as male cooks go he's fairly awesome. The other little chap, the one who looks scared all the time, whatsisname, anyway, he delivers every week but lacks something. But what do I know?
All I ever cook is safe as houses grub, I don't pile food up and have it surrounded by pools of jus or parsnip cream.
I simply care and cough up homely dishes.

Talking of regular food, the bread, pictured above, tasted like bread should taste. Of ovens and warmth and sat on the bread plate with the unevenness and charm of all fine home made creations.

Back to Masterchef.
The bit where they cooked for farmers and jam makers in Cumbria made me truly salivate, not because the food looked so chewable but on account of FINGERS. On several occasions our chefs used their index fingers to shove lamb and venison and herring and custard onto the guest's plates.
I LOVED THAT!
I use mine a lot.
I've been known to eat with my fingers especially when entertaining, ensures a closeness, an intimacy if you will, that stainless steel does not.

Anyway I hope Aki wins. She probably won't. The glory will go to Miss Big Head. Shaleennannaaa
:)

Bye bye:)

Barmy

An old Banana Longboat...Please note the queer looking spoon...

Instead of the aforementioned canned peaches for tonight's pud I've concocted something...

Seeing a couple of limp bananas in the fruit dish made me think....

Cut 2 trifle sponges in half. Spread meanly with Ginger Conserve, too much would be too much, only want a hit of heat not my tongue on fire...so sponges spread I then sliced thickly the bananas, always feel bananas need to be cut chunkily or they lose their ooompa.
Anyway that done I made half a pint of ordinary Bird's custard and whilst it simmered I dropped in 4 squares odf Cadbury's Fruit and Nut. LOL!
It melted quickly turning the custard from anorak yellow to luscious mink brown. Oh goody I thought this is fun...
By now the fruit was sulking so I gently enlivened them with a deep hot coating of Cadcus. And with a few raisins and bits o' nut floating around I left the kitchen feeling very pleased.
I often feel joyous when faffing about with bananas, (see above pic) Made yonks ago. Banana with fruit cocktail, cream and strawberry syrup. Took me back to younger days when all I ever wanted at Wimpy was this thrilling American style treat.



All this hoo ha over bananas has been brought about by Masterchef judge, Gregg Wallace... He a pudding lover like me! And.............

Am enjoying the new series but last night's programme left me glum. I so wanted Matthew to go through, but after totally messing up his Black Forest pud he was thrown out. I liked him and would have been happy seeing what he could have done in further rounds, and not because he was handsome or anything like that but because he cried.

Tim The Artist

I knew Tim would win, felt it in my chicken bones...

Also saw it in the faces of Greg and John. From the moment he shone a light into their lives I knew, they knew, we all knew that he, Tim Anderson the young Wisconsin man was the main course man.

Tom, lovely handsome Tom also rocked some boats especially with his final stupendously English pig pieces dish, this plate of perfectly cooked pork bits blew the judges away, even I was lost for words. What a crackling he was.

Rosa, my lovely Italian girl cooked her big heart out with a starter of chocolate ravioli and an ender of passion fruit and stuff, all out of this world fare, especially the hare, but it was Tim's three burgers which set the kitchen alight, metaphorically of course.

I'm not one easily shocked but when he said he was making burgers for a starter I wondered....mostly about his sanity, but being the consummate keen- as- mustard- amateur he brought the judges tongues to a stand still, (when they weren't munching of course). I leant towards the tv as if being drawn into the world of this fabulously inventive cook, his menu was exhaustive, it was bonkers, it was a star's menu. It had Tim written all over it...........

He'd made bread and noodles and pastries and God knows what else and all within the allotted 3 hours, me wondered whether or not he'd make it, but as his canvas of food was set upon the white linen I knew he'd win the damn trophy. His food shone, nay blitzed, like a nucleared halo around the head of a drunken saint. Simply breathtaking. If this guy doesn't land a nice little job within a Michelin starred restaurant real soon.... I'll live on frozen pizzas for the next five years.

Never ever have I seen a cook so in love with his vocation............

When Greg and John did their dramatic..."And the winner is......" my heart was racing, rather like when I have too much of anything, and then, when HIS name was announced, I nearly cried not because I'm in love or insane but because I love seeing genius rewarded.

So well done you Tim Anderson and good luck in your future......... as an Artist.............. Because my dear boy that's what you are. X


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Food to be enjoyed whilst witnessing the tethering together of William and Catherine...All made by Her Plebness, The Right Old Horsehoundness

Raisin Fairy Cakes
Chocolate Chip Mega Muffins
Almond Fancies

And then for supper...Billy Burgers and Katy Chips

The Winner of MasterChef 2011 is...

From left to right.....Tim, Rosa and Tom

Loved last night's MasterChef.

I still can't figure out who'll be crowned toppo cooko.

Rosa, I thought, was starting to crack, Tom oozed coolness and Tim, well he was just Tim, mad but with his head on the right way!

Can barely wait for tonight's final final of the final and it seems a terrible shame that only one of these knock-out cooks can wear the shiny hat...My money, what there is of it, is on..........My head says Rosa, my heart Tim. Sorry Tom.
But whomsoever wins, they all win the end, because all are set to quit their day jobs in favour of kitchen careers and why not?

This year's MasterChef entertained me, taught me and thrilled me. Well done all.... from a lady who will, after penning this, make a dozen chocolate meringue tartlets, recipe coming from a 1960 cookbook. Doesn't matter a jot, what matters is creating either good simple or fabulous ornate fancies which when plated up will get ooohs and cors! That's what it's all about.

Dripping Glo

Last night I couldn't watch the third episode of the final of the final of the final of MasterChef on account of my legs, so I have, just now, watched a recording of it.

And I now know that I am officially and without doubt mental.

Mental because I cried.
Yes cried because that wicked aunty BBC tightened my emotional chords so much so that when the winner was announced I broke into female tears.

Mr Dhruv Baker from London won the coveted title of MasterChef 2010 and well deserved it was. His culinary expertise was learnt from his mother but his imagination wasn't learnt from anywhere or anyone, he was born with it. Knowing how to plate up food so that it waters mouths even before being tasted is the skill of the artist. And a good cook IS an artist of course, whether he's cooking hash browns for his children or braising lobster for the Maharajah, glowing Dhruv proved he could do it all.

His frustrations didn't get get the better of him even when cooking in 100 F. Jodphur, so great was his concentration that I doubt he noticed the perspiration droplet hanging from the tip of his nose. How sweet I thought as I waited for it to drop in to the raita. It didn't. But it wouldn't have bothered me one jot if I'd had some of his bodily fluids glazing my Samosas.

So Dhruv won and I sniffed.
His artistic interpretation of how food should look, taste and feel left me weeping.

Loved him!