After 20 series, Masterchef knows not to fiddle the recipe
Food banks are rarely out of the headlines these days, so it was heartening to see Masterchef (BBC One) fall in step with the times. It kicked off its latest instalment by challenging its latest batch of hopefuls to get back to basics by transforming the kind of budget ingredients “we all pop into our weekly shop”.
Were we in for a riot of reinvented baked beans and deconstructed fish fingers as the cooks rummaged through the own-brand end of the supermarket aisle? Not exactly. While vet Brin bravely honoured the brief by giving us onions four ways (seriously Brin, once is enough, think of the heartburn), the Basic to Brilliant round opener proved a bit of a con as the cheap stuff (if lamb and couscous can be classed as cheap stuff) played second fiddle to the usual fancy pants fiddling with prime cuts of meat and luxe chocolate.
Still, you can’t blame Masterchef for trying. Twenty series in and there are only so many ways you can tart up a recipe so familiar that it barely touches the sides as it slips down the gullet. The show knows only too well that its hook is mouthwatering delicacies drizzled in a juice of culinary jeopardy – praise here for a singed gnocchi that looked like it had been hacked off a corpse – not showing us how to make ends meet.
So once we got into the meat of the action it was baba ganoush this, basil panna cotta that and contestants who duly genuflected at the hem of the much-coveted Masterchef robe as if they were about to don the Papal regalia, with pontiffs John Torode and Gregg Wallace on hand to dispense blessings and banishments.
Rather like wasabi, from this corner of the sofa a little Gregg Wallace goes a long way, so I’m happy to report that the indigestible geezer gourmet schtick has been toned down in favour of overcooked flights of fancy. “Your beans are stepping up and they’re shaking my hand,” he told a clearly flummoxed Cirilo, who’d hoped to bring a taste of Panama to proceedings, before delivering the stinger: “But I wanted to dance with them.” OK Gregg, keep sniffing the cooking sherry.
Maybe Wallace is just keeping his gung-ho powder dry until the competition truly hots up because for now it’s very much par for the first, second and third course with a format that knows exactly which side its bread is buttered. Gordon Ramsay, busy dreaming up a contest for blindfold barbecuers hanging upside down off skewers, would kill for such an easy life. For all its fine dining tomfoolery, Masterchef is TV comfort food.
If Gregg Wallace is looking to sharpen up his soundbites he could do worse than enlist Eileen Murthabrown in Tish (BBC Four). “Your memories are black and white but the blood’s always red,” was one gem she shared as she mined her recollections of her sister, Tish Murtha, aka “The Demon Snapper”, whose striking blackand-white photographs chronicled working-class lives and struggles in the northeast in the 1970s and 1980s.
We all like to think we are photographers these days, the digital age allowing us to rattle out images ten-a-penny hoping we’ll strike it lucky. By contrast Tish Murtha, a political firebrand remembered affectionately but with a hint of fear, even by her nearest and dearest, had to rely on old-school equipment and her own remarkable eye to capture the lives and struggles of a community she felt had been overlooked by history.
Her daughter, Ella, proved an empathetic guide in Tish, Paul Sng’s expertly framed documentary that’s part celebration of an overlooked talent, part study of a tumultuous political period as unemployment soared and economic recession bit deep. Through Ella we met Murtha’s extended family and gained a clear understanding of how her mother’s photographic style was forged in the fire of a world she believed was loaded against her and her like.
What comes into sharp focus is the sheer honesty of Murtha’s images. Authenticity is an overused word nowadays but it shines through here, the inspiration drawn from the streets and people she knew intimately. It makes for a powerful and intimate portrait of an undeniable talent who deserves wider recognition, even if at times the polemic feels troweled on with a heavy hand. “You can’t teach somebody how to have passion,” recalled one of Murtha’s former photographic tutors and it’s passion that burns off her monochrome prints, whether it’s street kids in South Shields or sex workers in Soho, one of her later projects. For all the family anecdotes and readings of Tish’s formidably trenchant view, it’s the pictures here that are worth a thousand words.
Masterchef ★★★ Tish ★★★★