Watching the show becomes an exercise in judging citizens of the new South Africa as they try to impress each another and viewers with their gastric fixes. In the Pretoria mopani worm episode, I found myself ultimately disliking all four contestants — perhaps my misanthropy is beyond repair.
The accounts that each candidate presents of themselves don’t help; people rarely get themselves right. Or it could be that the unnatural exposure fails to do justice to the poor, no doubt complicated, suckers.
And suck on food they certainly do, mostly on fairly plain dishes given foreign, exotic names in European languages — French has been the most prominent, as one would expect of upwardly mobile globalisers. Durban’s Millie serves up a chicken pie Frenchified as a vol-au-vent, although she seemed quite likeable in other respects.