Master Chef Junior – Week 5 – Live Blog and Discussion

Tonight, in the penultimate episode of the series, culinary hijinks ensue as our six little chefs take over lunch service at a celebrated Italian restaurant. A terrible sense of foreboding is introduced as soon as we see that the chairs are covered in white fabric. Some catastrophic accident involving marinara is inevitable.

Based solely on how beautiful the dining room is, Jack realizes he “desperately” wants to have a restaurant one day, suggesting that his future really belongs in interior design–although we kind of had that impression already. All the kids don little hats to make ravioli under the neurotic supervision of Dara and Gavin. Gordon fulfills his role by proclaiming some item a “dog’s dinner.” It’s appointment television!

Gordon opens the show by telling the kids that they are the six best home cooks in America, or at least the six best home cooks in America with agents. He tells them that they will now be tested in the “real wahld,” as if being browbeaten by Joe in the studio is a walk in the park. Off they go to Drago Centro, LA’s most bestest Italian eatery evah, according to the sponsors. Joe reminds them that they are not there for fun. He’s always such a pleasure.

Each of two teams will serve one side of the dining room. Dara explains that she was a swimmer in the Junior Olympics, so she’s got experience in junior versions of winning. Maybe she can cook underwater, too. She picks red as her team color, while Gavin captains the blue team. Let’s leave politics out of it, shall we?

Dara chooses Alexander for her team first, citing his prowess in the kitchen. Gavin selects Troy, who, in his role as Blond Mean Boy, expresses dissatisfaction with his team leader. Dara then calls on Jack, so Gavin regretfully ends up with Sarah. She claims that since she has been cooking for six years, she is a veteran who must not be discounted. It just makes me wonder what her parents were thinking allowing a three-year-old near a stove.

Joe tells them the diners have paid good money to unknowingly eat food made by pre-teens. They all troop into the kitchen and meet Drago’s chef, who demonstrates the complicated preparation of  two appetizers and two entrees.  What kind of Italian meal has no dessert?  That’s almost more of an outrage than being served tuna cooked by Twilight fans. Gavin expresses apprehension that these dishes are not “salami and cheddar cheese.” Just cut out little shapes from the Velveeta slices and that’s a very elegant luncheon, or so my nursery school teacher insisted.

The kids look bored as Chef Ian pan-sears fish and pipes filling into pasta, probably because they would prefer making salami and cheddar cheese. They are required to use a custom stamp to print a design with balsamic vinegar onto each appetizer plate. I remember when everyone oohed and aahed at shrimp hanging by their tails off a martini glass.

Their expediter tonight is going to be Gordon. This is disturbing for two reasons: that the kids know what an expediter is, and that Gordon will be screaming for the rest of the hour. But first they have sixty minutes of prep time to put together these arcane culinary creations, demonstrated for them but once and apparently without recipes to refer to. These kids shouldn’t be chefs, they should be recruited by the CIA.

The teams consult to divide up the work. Sarah does not feel comfortable with vegetables, a sentiment I share. As the blue team mangles the filling of their raviolis, Gordon facepalms with both hands.

The restaurant is fully booked, reminds the somber voiceover guy. So there are even more people to disappoint. The customers are seen reviewing their menus, apparently not puzzled by the fact that there are only four items to order.

In the kitchen, Gordon now praises the blue team, and it’s the red team who is daunted by the devilish ravioli. Haven’t these kids ever used those Play-Doh molds? There is much frantic shouting of tickets, as now the blue team again struggles and falls behind. Gee, it kind of seems orchestrated. “Two more tuna!” roars Gordon, momentarily confusing viewers. He then recommends throwing out perfectly good food that has not been plated prettily enough, permanently confusing poor people everywhere.

Observing their constant squabbling, Gordon pleads with Dara and Alexander to communicate or perish. If only he could work on the Middle East situation.

The guests begin to report back on their impressions of the meal. It’s a mixed bag, though, since if one team appeared to be prevailing, we would change channels. The blue team is preparing their plates for the VIP table–the judge, Chef Ian. Being an ass, Troy doesn’t want Sarah to help with those plates. His future girlfriends better Google this stuff.

The judged plates are served on red and blue place mats so Chef Ian knows which ones to give which  non-committal but largely laudatory review. The blue team wins on the first appetizer; the red team, the second.

Gavin valiantly tries to smooth the tension between Troy and Sarah. His future girlfriends should Google that. Meanwhile, Graham stands by wearing a chef’s coat that could serve as a sail in that new Redford movie where he’s lost at sea. True to her fears, Sarah messes up some vegetables. Troy is not even trying to repress his rage at her failures. We are witnessing a serial killer in the making, or perhaps a tech CEO.

Gordon calls the blue team forward and lectures them on getting along. In other words, they can be raving maniacs in the kitchen when they have their own shows on a major network.

Back in the dining room, the diners nibble delicately on the entrees and recite natural-sounding dialogue about the quality of the food. Joe apologizes for some congealed pasta to a SAG member whose dues are two months late.

Alexander is getting visibly frazzled under the pressure, flinging pots and bowls like a a plate spinner on Ed Sullivan. He’s afraid this challenge will be his ticket home. Imagine his distress at taking the SATs.

When service finally ends, they’re all relieved–but the good news is, no dishes were sent back from the dining room. Apparently congealed pasta passes muster at a Michelin-starred restaurant. They all enjoy a celebratory glass of sparkling cider as Chef Ian evaluates the entrees. The red team’s pasta is good, while the blue team’s is missing sauce. The red’s branzino is cooked well, though underseasoned. The blue team’s fish does not have crispy skin, yet tasted better. It’s very close!

Now the kids march into the dining room so the diners can find out who their chefs were. As one, they rise to their feet applauding and hooting. Everyone is thunderstruck, or interpreted the stage direction in that manner. Some people were crying in the “audience,” reports one kid, blowing the show’s cover. They will learn who won the challenge back at the studio, so the producers won’t have to pay for extra time to rent the restaurant.

Graham tells them they all did an amazing job in the challenge.  The winners, and those going to the semi-finals, are the red team’s members, so they can go the gallery to gloat and switch their aprons for their white ones. Only one kid will be saved from the blue team. And that is…Troy. Because he’s most like Gordon? Sarah bursts into tears. Suspiciously, seconds later, her face is as dry as an overcooked risotto cake.

Asked by the judges who will win the whole thing, Sarah thinks it will be Troy, and Gavin believes Jack. They’ve probably laid money on it. Next time, the final four will have to kill a chicken. Because this show is a golden goose for the ratings.

About E.M. Rosenberg 240 Articles
Favorite 40-volume series issued by Time-Life Music: Sounds of the Seventies. Favorite backsplash material: Subway tile. Favorite screen legend I pretend wasn’t gay: Cary Grant. Favorite issue you should not even get me started about: Venal, bloodsucking insurance industry. Favorite character from the comic strip “Nancy”: Sluggo, or maybe Rollo. Favorite Little Debbie snack: Nutty Bars. Favorite Monkee: Mike.