The wedding challenge last night was interesting for a whole number of reasons. I had to smile when the bride said, "I can't believe my big day is here" while the groom stood meekly to the side. In our culture, she's on the money. I don't believe there's a woman alive who's completely immune to the strange phenomenon weddings cause, where the bride becomes confused between marriage and being the immaculately beautiful centre of everyone's world for a day.
It was a shame Poh had to go because she was willing to take risks, but I think it was time, because she's been stuffing up a lot lately. I did feel bad for the fact that she stayed up all night and piped the cake.
The contestants are very bonded, which is nice, but they're certainly not thinking strategically at the moment. Andre and Chris were disappointed Poh left because they thought she had more to bring to the competition than Sam - but for that reason they should be glad she's gone. Do they want to win or what?
Chris and Justine have been ahead with the cooking for a while now, but so much air time has been invested in Sam and Poh, I just can't really care.
Go Jules!
So, Poh's a No-Go.
MasterChef Notes
So. MasterChef.
Being a snobby purist and all meant I had a bad attitude to the show from the start. But give peace a chance. It's come into its own as a completely different show, and I've been enjoying it.
So how is it actually different from the UK show I watched when I was a pregnant hippopotamus sea cow blimp?
The UK show had six fresh contestants every episode, one of which would make it through at the end of the episode to the finals. The final three contestants worked with and cooked for some of the best chefs and food critics in the world, and a collaboration between these people and the judges would decide the crowned MasterChef.
No voting, no house, no sob stories. Just cooking.
Our Aussie version has a lot more variation in the challenges and styles of cooking, so it balances out in that way.
There was an emphasis on the cooking process in the UK version, but the judges discussions seemed more technical; they didn't dumb it down for the masses, talking in detail not just about how certain flavours and textures worked or didn't work together, but why.
While I still can't help but get a whiff of Big Brother every now and again watching the Aussie version (it is produced by the same people that brought us that abomination after all), I'm having a good time.
I'm going for Julie, not because I think she's the best cook on the show, but because she's unpretentious and the last person you'd expect to win. Or it could be because she's my namesake, so if she wins I'll hear them say I'm the winner of MasterChef.
Who will actually win? Channel 10 will want someone with talent + personality + popularity to hook up to whatever juicy money-milking machines they've got lined up, so it wouldn't surprise me if Sam is right up there among the last men standing.
The Fabulous Two: Secret Code at the Hopetoun Tea Rooms
A fabulous friend of mine had a birthday recently and I thought it would be nice to go to a fabulous venue for a cuppa and confabulation. I could not come up with such a venue.
Another friend did come up with something for me, however - the Hopetoun Tea Rooms in The Block arcade off Collins Street - which was just about fabulous enough (see decadent decor below).
The tea rooms were initially opened by the Victorian Ladies Work Association in the late 1800s and was named after the association's founder, Lady Hopetoun. The menu included all the things you'd expect from tea rooms; scones with jam and cream, sandwiches, a range of cakes and pastries, and a whole blackboard of weird and wonderful-sounding teas like Bard's Tempest and Coco Bongo. There's also a decent-looking breakfast and lunch menu if you wanted to make a meal of it.
The chai latte was divine, although my first one was, sadly, lukewarm. I ordered a red salmon and cucumber sandwich on brown bread which was a little dry as it didn't have anything else on it. Luckily, Birthday Girl's English Breakfast was very satisfactory.
After an hour or so of gossiping I mean discussing our jobs, politics and the economy in a straightforward, factual way, a visit to the ladies room was in order. After searching but not finding, I asked a waitress where it was. This is what she said:
"There's no toilet here, but if you turn right in the arcade, keep going till you get to the end and turn right again... no wait, left, then keep going till you find lift three, then go up the lift to level 3, and you'll find the toilets."
All I heard was no toilet and a whole lot of threes.
"Oh, and you'll need the code."
The Code? Now I was listening.
She gave me The Code: three numbers and a letter. I didn't know what I needed it for exactly, but I knew I would know when the time came.
Not wanting to keep my friend waiting, I trotted off down the arcade (and when you're wearing boots with a four-inch heel on them, you trot), ignoring the temptation of the many handbags and shoes and specialty gift stores along the way. I soon caught sight of an oh-so-Melbourne, burgundy sign with 'Lift Three' on it in cream lettering, and I pulled up at the lift doors ever so slightly out of breath. There it was - a keypad! I entered The Code...
Immediately, the lift doors burst open and I was greeted by my reflection looking quite pleased with itself in the mirrored back of the lift. I quickly jumped inside and pressed floor three, looking around furtively as if 6 rogues were about to take advantage of my knowledge of The Code and pile into the lift. Or some security guard was about to shout, 'Hoy! You're not an employee of this precinct!'
Floor three was like a ghost floor. There was no sign of toilets, but there was a sign for a podiatry clinic. After all that trotting I could probably have done with a little visit there. Eventually I did find my way into a clean, empty ladies room, with soap and all. I was back in my seat within 9 minutes, just as my second latte was arriving at the table scalding hot, just the way I like it.
So if you're ever within 5 minutes of Collins & Elizabeth and are in dire need of a ladies room, don't head underground. Head above ground via the Block arcade. As for The Code - well, it wouldn't be a secret if I just straight out gave it to you, would it? It's in here, you'll just have to go back and look for it...
Or you could just ask a waitress at the Hopetoun Tea Rooms.
Hopetoun Tea Rooms
Block Arcade, 282 Collins St, Melbourne
Open for breakfast & lunch
Phone: (03) 9650 2777
Hopetoun Tea Rooms review in Epicure
Victoria State Rose Garden
On Good Friday, some friends and I picnicked in the Victoria State Rose Garden at Werribee Park. I hadn't been there before and it was bigger and more beautiful than I had imagined. I don't know whether it was just the time of year, but the pictures on the Parks website don't do them justice. Apparently the gardens are maintained by volunteers, which is pretty amazing, so I guess that's why it's free to get in.
A lovely place to catch up with even lovelier people.
Gastro Boy
My son looks like a mini replica of his father. The moment he was presented to me I just looked at him and saw his dad. Minus hair. Even his personality has some familiar elements.
But there is something about my precious little guy that he most definitely, undoubtedly inherited from yours truly.
Boy, does he like his food.
This became clear from the outset of his life when he rapidly put on weight until he was starting to look like a cross between the Michelin Man and Bert Newton, if you squinted. If I'd been in a bowling alley I may have accidentally bowled him down the lane instead of a ball.
When the time came for him to move on to solid food, I offered him a finger dipped in rice cereal to chew on. He was bemused, intrigued, filled with wonderment, and by day three of rice cerealed fingers he was clumsily grabbing the finger and pulling it towards his gaping gob.
He quickly moved on to other foodstuffs, and after a couple of months of eating is yet to refuse anything. Although he did shudder cartoon-like the first time he tasted broccoli.
Thankfully, he is also growing upwards at a rate of knots and has now shed at least six of his chins, allowing a neck to emerge.
Perhaps he'll settle into the eating habits of regular human beings. Who knows. Until then he remains my own little gastronomical force of nature.
