Get crazy with the cheez wiz - 'MasterChef' is back

I am three minutes into 2010's MasterChef when a contestant says, with the sort of glee that suggests he thinks no one has ever uttered this phrase in the history of television (let alone television concerned with cooking), "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen!"

It's an inauspicious beginning - hopefully he'll fall headfirst into a pan of boiling duck fat - but nothing could dampen my enthusiasm for a second helping of what turned out to be 2009's most surprising TV hit.

Indeed, talking to friends and family about the series return over the past week, not a single person expressed concern or indifference. When reminded that the show was back on air in a couple of days, one person, in fact, high-fived me and shouted "FUCK YEAH!"

So what did episode one hold for us? The introduction of the Top 50, and a challenge... OMGWTFBBQ!


Yes, a golden mile of BBQs. 

Instantly my mind went berserk with thoughts of intricately arranged snags drizzled with a charcoal and tomato sauce reduction, but my reverie was shattered by Sharnee, who decries BBQs as "a man thing".


Excellent, seven minutes in and I have a contestant I know I will love to hate. Top work so far, MasterChef '10!

The contestants set to work and it wasn't long before my ultimate nightmare occurred: contestant Jake sliced his thumb open.

Truly, nothing makes my guts churn more intensely than injured fingers:


Two minutes later he hacked into another finger. BAGS NOT TASTING HIS DISH.

As the cameras and George and Gary moved around the hall, contestants in their desperation spewed forth phrases that by now are MasterChef cliches - "Asian tasting plate", "seared", "[insert crazy combination of flavours] marinade" - that led me to think creating a MasterChef bingo sheet might be a good idea*.

Sharnee has a bit of a cry because she wants to make a Thai beef salad, but the brick-sized chunk of meat she's chosen isn't cooking through. Because, you know, it's man-sized, and BBQing is man's work.

At this stage, I feel the need to bring back last year's harbinger of doom, Julie's grimacing paella:


LET THAT BE A WARNING TO YOU, SHARNEE.

Is there anyone to like so far? Yes, I'm on Team Callum - the smiley, puppydog dude from SA - and Team Irmgard - the bosomy Austrian nanna from Victoria.

Once the judges start tasting, I nearly fall into paroxysms of laughter when one of the many Jasons announces he's cooked "a shoulder of snapper, fresh prawn, and a caramelised smashed banana reduction with a hint of mint."

A HINT OF MINT. Not only does Jason get a MasterChef bingo, the dish looks like shit on a shingle:


The judges react accordingly. "A poor dish" is Matt Preston's typically diplomatic response.

From there, a bottom ten is assembled and they are set an elimination challenge by Donna Hay: pavlova! Having made (or attempted to) a pav, I was quaking on their behalf.

The pressure gets to Nicolette, who cracks the shits because the pressure is "in your face", and attempts to change down by holding a bottle of water on her head:


Good old George talks her down from the ledge and she is clapped into the oven. Sorry, her pav is clapped into the oven by the other contestants. Shades of Julie's multiple meltdowns, anyone?

The hysterically ineffectual Jason's pav ends up looking like something I dropped on the floor. Sharnee caramelises some macadamia nuts. Adele makes a pavlova tribute to a South American landslide:


In short, the show is back in a big way. If you'd asked any of us this time last year whether a show about amateur kitchen whizzes competing to become something abitrarily called "Master Chef" would be compelling television, we would have scoffed at you (many did).

We learned over the course of 2009 that it was one of the best television shows the country has ever produced, and assuming it doesn't fall into a Big Brother-esque mire of cliches and hallmarks, 2010 should be no exception.

Bring on the kitchen showdowns, peeps - but just remember: PAELLA IS WATCHING YOU.