Jul 25, 2011

Junior masterchef at work

We are still enamoured of Masterchef. We all plonk down at 7.30pm in front of the TV. We rate food on a regular basis (even Maggi mee, which predictably gets a 10/10 from the kids). Answers to questions that are left hanging come only "after the commercial break!"

And one day last week, when my cold had gotten the better of me, Hubs and Number One play Masterchef in the kitchen.

The waiter cum assistant cook comes to the room and announces:
"We are having rolled beef, pommes frites and fresh garden vegetables," he says. "Papa asked me to say that," he adds in a whisper.

I reply knowingly, "Ok, so it's beef sausages, french fries and mixed vege for dinner."

"Do you know papa is like Chef Marco?" says Number One. "He's like, "Get the plate, get the plate, get the plate!""

I reply, "Then you should have said, yes chef!"

Hubs and I are having fun over this, but amazingly Number One is very serious about the whole affair. After dinner is served and digged into, he asks for his ratings. I first graded the sausages a generous 9/10 and he contemplated that with pride, then nodded and smiled. But then I cut through and found them slightly undercooked, so I told him I would have to downgrade them to 8/10. "I understand," he said solemnly.

Never mind that he ran away at the first sight of popping oil and Hubs did most of the cooking!

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