Farking Masterchef

The youngest has always loved cooking, but she’s become a bit obsessed lately. I blame it on watching Masterchef every night. She even makes her own bread now. She wanted to make her own pasta yesterday. From scratch. She’s 10! I said NO!

Saying “NO!” to making pasta didn’t really make my day any easier.

Instead we made Masterchef finalist Brent Owens (famous for wearing onesies, I believe) meatballs and garlic bread … and a rather elaborate dessert (inspired by a recipe from one of judge Gary Mehigan’s cookbooks) of berry gelato, vanilla cream, meringue and strawberry purée.

Oh, and chocolate bowls and spoons to eat it in (and with). Let’s not forget those. They were her own special touch.

You make the bowls by blowing up balloons and dipping them in melted chocolate then popping them.

The dessert that sits inside them involves extensive whipping and pureeing and slicing and scooping …

It took HOURS. She had an AWESOME time. I was very, very tired because I don’t get to relax and watch tellie while she creates in the kitchen. No, I’m the sous chef. Cooking is our bonding activity.

Last night’s occasion was her cousin coming over for dinner. She wanted to blow his tastebuds. I think she got her wish.

After the main prep was done, my effervescent kid hit the trampoline while I hit the washing line. She kept calling to me: “What trick should I do NEXT!”

Mummy was a little too exhausted to come up with creative trampoline suggestions and told the youngest she’d have to make up her own.

When the jumping thing got tired she came inside and asked at five-minute intervals “Can I plate up now?”

Thank you Masterchef, for introducing “plating up” into the primary school vernacular.

And so, another action-packed Saturday passed without me mopping the floors. Though there were the occasional zen moments – I squeezed in an early morning walk by the water with friends.

How’s your weekend going?

Song of the day: Mental as Anything “Let’s Cook”