I’m all for a successful format,
But the BBC thinks it’s in clover,
If, for its tenth anniversary series,
It doesn’t give Masterchef a make-over.
The temperature’s reduced in the kitchen,
There’s boredom all over the nation:
Junior, celebrity, professional -
We’ve had every possible combination!
John Torode’s a chef, and knows how to cook,
But can we all stand yet one more outing,
For that great pudding Gregg Wallace,
Who doesn’t know when to stop shouting?
Too many contestants’ back-stories,
India Knight’s plodding and steady:
It’s getting like warmed-up leftovers,
A dish we’ve had too often already.
Combination recipes drive me mad,
Invention tests that feature just fish,
And all the fudging, over the judging,
As they deliver their “Signature Dish”.
Poached this, stuffed that, the drizzles and foams,
Smears, juices, crumbs, and the crispiest fat,
The sweetness finally coming through,
And the sharpness of this, cutting through that.
Fondants, creamings and, of course, salads,
De-constructing a favourite dinner,
Creating some fanciful new twist,
In an attempt to knock up a winner.
Then there’s dustings, little plates and purees,
Fondues, concasses and those ganaches,
There’s textures, baby-sick sauces and flavours,
Everyone’s in there, giving it a bash.
But the results can be disappointing,
Like a cheese soufflé that’s failing to rise -
The bizarre lengths these guys can go to,
In pursuit of that Masterchef prize.
It’s all getting to be too technical,
Using blow-torches, vacuums and suction,
And I swear I’ll scream hard at the TV,
If I’ve to look at one more “reduction”!
Good flavour’s a strange and fickle thing,
It’s not enough when you can only see -
Food’s all about how it smells and it tastes,
But you can’t do either when watching TV.
I don’t know what to do, when given a jus,
Too many things graded and marinaded:
I think I’m losing my appetite,
And my palate’s decidedly jaded.
I’ve come to deride whatever’s pan-fried,
My whole stomach has come to feel bloated,
I no longer care for salting, wilting or grating,
Whether it’s steamed, or creamed or roasted.
I can’t take much more slurping and burping,
It’s over-cooked, boring and tough.
My whole attitude to contestants’ food,
Has changed - I’ve just about had enough!
Crispy outside, or melting within,
This tired formula I’m ready to miss.
I think I’ll just have a cheese sandwich -
Cooking’s really no tougher than this.