Sunday, July 25, 2010

And the winner is... zzzzzzz....

Masterchef is finally, FINALLY over.

No more Katy Perry belting out Hot and Cold from the opening credits, no more eyefuls of George Calombaris shovelling his food like a caveman. No more Gary bouncing on his tippy toes leering at lopsided desserts, and no more Matt looking lustfully at pork bellies through his eyebrows.

No more wondering if Callum's cascading sweat is going to be the true culprit in his over-salted seafood dish. Goodbye, Adam's little top-knot and the constant, endless recaps and reminders of contestants past.

If I never see Jonno's sneering smile again I'll be happy. Same goes for Jimmy's trembling bottom lip as Matt frowns on yet another sodding curry. I won't miss Clare's Princess Diana glances, and Marion's 'I'm so surprised!' face as she wins yet another challenge. I never thought I'd say this, but I can't take another bite of Masterchef. I'm full, I'm stuffed, and I've had enough thank you.

At this stage of the competition, minutes from finding out who wins the title, I actually don't care. Callum and Adam are both worthy. They both deserve a place in the industry working as professionals. Good on them. And all the contestants have been watchable, they've given our household hours of entertainment and I've loved watching them cook their hearts out. Guys, it's nothing personal. Because for me it's about the journey. (See, I even sound like Gary now).

The people who produce Masterchef deserve a medal (and will probably get it in the form of a swag of Logies) for their brilliance in stretching a concept as far as it could possibly go. I never imagined watching the same show, night after night, glued to every episode, and shouting at my husband for accidentally deleting the series link on the Foxtel IQ. We only missed two episodes all season. And it went for weeks, and weeks. How long has this thing been going for? I've lost count, but I'm sure my children have grown a few centimetres since the series began. I wouldn't know because I've been too busy learning to make Adriano Zumbo's macarons.

It's been like a degustation - long, indulgent, satisfying and slightly sickening. But everyone has a finite attention span and mine cut out like a lightbulb last week. I can see the bright lights of the finale getting closer so I'm dragging myself to the table to stuff my face with Masterchef one last time.

And tomorrow, cold turkey.