Last night it seemed we were a long way from France and just like the bloke in the film of the same name, we were wandering around in the desert trying to get our bearings for quite some time.
It was Ash and Camilla’s turn to cook. The ‘socialites’, which is odd as I don’t imagine Lilian Frank ever slaving away over a hot fish pot – isn’t that what Peter Rowland is for? And these socialites seem to have to work to support their socialising – well one works and the other one studies (unfortunately not French cooking).
Luckily for them, Kat, the sore loser from Perth was trying to turn everyone vegetarian and yelling at the little girl in the pretty pink party dress. This seemed to cause such a distraction that everyone forgot they hated eating raw meat and just thought to themselves ‘oh well when in France’… (or wherever it is we are).
Kat also tried to throw in a bit of the old – ‘looks like shop bought bread everyone! Everyone?’ and Manu just gave her a withering look which seemed to say ‘Hey honey, if I cooked ravioli like you did, I’d be heading straight for the LaTina.’ Breadgate averted.
While Ash has a lot of funny sayings and some of the editing can make her seem like she’s just about to tot off to coffee with Pru and Trude, last night we saw a little more substance. She knew her stuff with the bought fish stock, the heavy handed addition of the lemon juice to the steak tartare mix (hey even I knew that!) and she knew she’d buggered up the faux boulabaise with her zesting frenzy. Dare I say it, I was so disoriented, I started to like her. What am I saying? I’m supposed to hate these women!