Why I can never be a part of Masterchef India

For one, I cannot chant, Yes chef Yes, every ten minutes.

I also cannot praise the main chef there, some renowned chap apparently who has a restaurant in NY, since I have never heard of him before.

I also don’t think I’ll be able to stomach the insults that the other two rotund chefs dish out regularly. Like who have they been taking classes from? Reality show judges?

And wait, I won’t be able to make world class ravioli with the three of them breathing down my neck.

Neither will I be able to make a mousse from yams. And top it with caramelised apple. And get one of the chefs to promise to make it a dish in his restaurant. Yiikes.

I also won’t be able to tell them a sob story about how my kids need me and how I might just go back home so they will present me an apron and ask me to stay back.

Oh and I don’t think I can pronounce ‘ape-ron’ as ‘app-rawn’ either.

But the best thing that could happen if I ever went on Masterchef India and got kicked out? I could come back home and tell everyone, ‘I told you so.  Don’t let me cook. All of India knows how pathetic I am.’

Perfect excuse. I might just try and go next time.