Deep-fried custard? That’ll never pass my palate test

COURGETTE flowers stuffed with custard and deep-fried: it set the alarm bells ringing. Any kitchen serving that type of hallucination-ona- plate must be running low on ideas.

In the opening episode of the new MasterChef last week, contestants had to recreate the battered zucchini blossom dish — after tasting it in a ‘palate test’ — without a recipe. This new round was aimed at shaking up a cookery format that has been around since 1990.

Last night, the challenge was to cook potato pancakes topped with smoked trout and horseradish sauce, again with no recipe books on hand. That was more appetising, but it was still far too fancy and lah-di-dah for its own good.

Call me ill-bred, but when I order a meal I don’t want a flimsy creation sculpted from wafers of vegetable, in the middle of a white plate surrounded by a circular trickle of sauce. And I especially don’t want deep-fried custard.

MasterChef might not be filling, but it is at least painless viewing. That couldn’t be said of Iraq: Did My Son Die in Vain? It followed retired head teacher Geoff Dunsmore as he searched for meaning in his son’s death, in the bombed-out devastation of southern Iraq.

Chris Dunsmore, a 29-year- old Leicester businessman serving in the rAF Auxiliaries, was killed in a militia rocket assault on the airbase he was helping to defend near Basra in 2007. The air force life had been Chris’s dream since childhood: he died doing what he loved.

But his death had left his family hollowed out by grief. His father, wanted to know their suffering had been worthwhile, too, so he travelled to Basra to see what difference the sacrifice had made.

He found a country prostrated by violence and corruption, where terrorism kills thousands every year, where gangs control the supplies of bottled water, where rotting waste is piled on the streets and where the children l ucky enough to have education sit in dusty schoolrooms without windows or electricity.

Iraqis are immensely polite people. They welcomed this bewildered visitor to their homes, listened respectfully to his story and bowed their heads when he wept. But they could not fob him off with lies.

one former restaurant owner shrugged helplessly, when Geoff asked if the British had helped Iraq. ‘I swear to God, I can’t answer that question,’ he said. ‘ They did not bring democracy to Iraq. They brought violence and chaos, and they have left behind only rubble.’

In a country where a million children have lost one or both parents, some Iraqis found Geoff’s pain hard to fathom. ‘ He’s feeling very sorry for himself,’ sneered one middle-aged man, grief etched into the lines of his own face.

Geoff tried to find hope in the alliance set up by young Basra professionals, organising rubbish collections and clean-up patrols via Facebook. But back in Britain, Chris’s mother was more resigned. ‘I’d love to feel it helped in some way, but I can’t say it was worth Chris dying for,’ she said.

Among the high-rise estates of South London, E4’s new youth drama, Youngers, explored the same theme: the destructive power of children’s dreams upon their parents’ hopes.

Yemi, 16, is the son of Nigerian immigrants, a bright student with a string of A-grade GCSEs and a passion for rap music. His flamboyantly Christian mother prays: ‘Lord, protect him from those who would distract his mind with alcohol, drugs, sexual immorality and musical nonsense!’

Yemi’s best mate Jay is a would- be rapper whose chief worry is making sure his two girlfriends never meet. ‘I got one girl for when I is hungry, one for when I is thirsty,’ he explains.

All the ‘youngers’, the teenagers, spoke that slang-heavy mix of Trenchtown Jamaican patois and New York Harlem jive. The strangest moment came when Jay was arguing with his dad, an oldfashioned London geezer who spoke the sort of English the Sweeney would understand.

There was wit, too. When Yemi turned up i n his new college uniform, all blazer and striped tie, Jay asked wide- eyed: ‘Bro, why you dressed like Chris Eubank?’

The rap contest plot was hackneyed. But with such a fresh take on language, and some sharp lines, this is worth a second look.