Well, the Great Channel 4 Food Fight is over for another year. Have 12 months really passed since Hugh’s Chicken Run, which put our town of Axminster on the map, and - at times - came close to splitting the place in two?
This year, we were treated to Big Chef takes on Little Chef, a hopeless mismatch in true modern day televisual style, as presumably imitated from the likes of Wife Swap and Holiday Showdown.
If you don’t believe in the old adage of there being no such thing as bad publicity, then the only winners from this curiously pointless triple-bill of shows were BMW - there must’ve been approaching a zillion gratuitous shots of Heston’s shiny black 5-series. Reminded me of Alan Partridge and his Rover 800 Sterling.
There was also a rather helpful programme that told us - with not the slightest hint of irony - that cheap food wasn’t as good as expensive food. Unbelievable. And it took them a whole hour.
Still, at least Masterchef continues its run, despite the suspicion that this latest series has seen some of its worst cooks ever – although its rigid formula and mock tension is, frustratingly, the same as it has always been.
There have been times - especially during a recent ingredients test when budding chefs were asked to identify an Ostrich Egg and Stilton Cheese - when I’ve thought that even I could blag my way through to the second half of the programme.
Imagine Greg, once memorably likened to Bunson from The Muppets Show, and his reaction to my… um… er… beans on toast:
(Speaking slowly, but assertively)
“First, you get the lightly-toasted bread.”
(Lowering his voice, whilst adding a note of pleasant surprise)
“Then, you get just a hint of butter.”
(Stamping his foot and beginning to growl ever-so-slightly)
“Then, BANG, in come the beans!”
Reckon I would still beat the woman who memorably threw together Chorizo sausage, peaches and Feta cheese on pastry, though.
