It was a dreary Monday night when I turned
on my television during prime time, for the first time, in a very long time.
Normally I am busy after dinner doing important things like hanging out on
facebook or getting high scores on angry birds. On this night however, neither
of those things were appealing to me, and quite frankly, I needed a dose of
trash TV. A dose of filthy, disgusting, time whore telly.
I turned on Masterchef. I haven’t turned it off.
Well I have actually, because it only goes for an hour between 7-8pm, but suffice to say, I love it. The food leaves images of sugar plums dancing in my head… literally. I can taste the succulent, juicy meats and the crispy vegetables. I can taste the milky chocolate goo oozing from the cakes and the fruit compotes dripping down my tongue as they seep from all things sweet.
I turned on Masterchef. I haven’t turned it off.
Well I have actually, because it only goes for an hour between 7-8pm, but suffice to say, I love it. The food leaves images of sugar plums dancing in my head… literally. I can taste the succulent, juicy meats and the crispy vegetables. I can taste the milky chocolate goo oozing from the cakes and the fruit compotes dripping down my tongue as they seep from all things sweet.
In addition to the food, it has the added
elements of suspense, drama, friendships, and an adequate twist in every
episode. Is it cooked properly? Are we going to get it out on time? Who will
have a nervous breakdown today?
This is pure addictive brilliance.
This is pure addictive brilliance.
No comments:
Post a Comment
tell me something lovely :)