So last night the first of the ‘gatecrasher’ teams cooked and showed the world why Nonna is now wishing she’d taken her recipes to the grave.
That’s right my little mediterranean lovers, Italian girls Angela and Melina brought stale dick to the table and got the old bitch so worked up that if she could have reached out from the grave, both our girls would have been yanked down into her shame coffin with her.
But let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. The menu looks pretty ordinary: eggplant, beef and some kind of mystery third course that could be a dessert, but is just as likely to be an unsavoury sex act.
The other teams arrive and there’s some fighting words. And clothes. Ali is wearing tiger stripes and looks like she has already gotten into a winning tussle with Samuel who is sporting an oddly unflattering meat-coloured shirt.
At the door, Angela and Melina are unimpressed by the affection received from two asians they have just met. “Their arms were behind their backs!” Melina bleats, clearly disappointed that neither one of them even attempted to pop her bra clasp.
In the dining room, Ashlee – the befringed half of the asian team – is horrified that she still feels like she is in Australia. Sophia, the other one, confesses to a crush on Pete. But she speaks like a condescending maths teacher and her eyes are deader than the wall of Nonna photos so her ‘confession’ ends up being as charming as a child owning up to eating his first cat.
Angelica and her bearded friend call themselves ‘nerds’ and wank on about the misconception that ‘nerds can’t cook’. Next to me on the couch Rico snarks that with all the extra time not taken up by having sex or changing their sandals, they should have learned to cook ten times over.
In the kitchen the girls talk a lot about their Nonnas – what an inspiration they are, how they are hoping to make them proud, blah blah. The entree is basically a nonna recipe that they have tarted up to look fancy with some patriotic sauce placement.
It doesn’t go down well. It lacks salt and is basically the cooking equivalent of sending a firey enema up poor Nonna’s dark passage. Sophia – who I really should hate because it’s so obvious the show wants me to but who is putting on such an overly-dramatic performance of evil-asian-whore that I just can’t be bothered – goes one further and says that shit was so garliccy she needs a goddamn Tic Tac. Across the table Steph – who has abandoned the sailor-bait look for some normal clothing – looks like she’d like to freshen Sophia’s breath with a punch to her tonsils.
Our Italian ladies retreat to the kitchen under the baleful glare of the wall of Nonnas, leaving the boys to snigger over the word ‘cheeks’ on the menu.
The entree was a bust, they agree, but if there’s one way to redeem themselves and make Nonna call off the evil eye it’s by whipping the fuckery out of the mash and adding enough cream to drown their competition.
And for a minute it looks like they might have done it. The other diners think the mash looks lovely – until they put it in their mouths. Manu says it is ‘unpleasant’ and from the grimaces on the faces of the other contestants, the mash is about as melt-in-your-mouth as a herpe’d scrotum.
Still, the beef is well cooked and the word ‘cheek’ is still funny so the girls pat themselves on the back and chorus out a big ‘thank you Nonna!’
‘That’s like thanking the person who’s car you just spewed in’ Rico mutters darkly.
Back in the kitchen and the meaning of the stupidly-named dessert is now becoming clear. It is… spongecake. With fruit. And something that looks disturbingly like a layer of cheddar.
Unlike the previous two dishes, this fuckery has not a shred to do with Nonna. ‘We’re not dessert people’ they trill, somehow happy with what has come out looking like hospital food for the Blind Wing.
Predictably, no-one is impressed. Sophia has no idea what it is, but thinks it may be some sort of Egg McMuffin. Pete looks like he’s woken up from an exotic food dream to find he’s chewing on Manu’s wank sock.
Even so, some of the teams are, like, waaaaay harsh Thai (see: Silverstone, Alicia). Notably Lisa and Stephano who score them a one and have obviously realised it is much more comfortable to be the shanker rather than the shankee.
The total is an eyewatering 50 – the worst score since Jessie and Biswa Chernobled the table with their faux food fuckery.
The girls spit out words like ‘disgusting’ and ‘unfair’ – but unlike the other diners they are referring to the scores, not the food.
And somewhere in Italy, Nonna’s bones have rearranged themselves to spell ‘That’ll teach you to FUCK with my shit, bitches!’