The Godfather of Profiteroles aka Gregg Wallace aka The Greggsta aka Greggie 2 G's has been absent from our television screens for too long. Thank the Lord then that in little under a week, a new series of Masterchef is back to remind us why Bake-Off is an overrated bunch of turd.
Annoyingly Gregg has reigned in terrestrial tv's most famous sweet-tooth and has discovered the joys of a morning run, and is managing to look boringly svelte these days.
You know it my brother.
But we all need reminding of the good old days, when the mere mention of puff-pastry was enough to turn Gregg into a gurning wreck. Nights-in as the creeping winter mist enveloped the world outside were never better than when watching Gregg react to each and every desert menu the budding chefs stuttered in his direction, in the way only a man with two g's at the end of his first name can.
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Calvados parfait with mocha tuile
Vodka and buttermilk panna cotta with seasonal berries
Chocolate fondant with green olive and coconut merangue melt
Black treacle tart with spiced ice cream and roasted crab apples
Shitloads of snickers bars dipped in maple syrup
Mary Berry is three hundred badrillion per cent incapable of providing this level of entertainment.
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