Your daily rolling recap of Come Dine With Me NZ, serving up piping hot takes on New Zealand’s greatest social experiment.
Welcome to Come Dine With Me Daily, The Spinoff’s hub for all things Come Dine With Me NZ.We’ll be updating this post throughout the week as the show plays out, providing you with a denser dining experience than Eds’ rock hard banoffee pie.
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Week Eight – Day Three
It’s Mel’s turn tonight to step off her tiny yoga stage and get into the kitchen. She tells us that she used to live on a commune, and very into nature and sharing food with strangers. At least I think that is what she said, her husky voice has really taken a turn this week. Louise will tell her she sounds sexy later, even if Jesse vehemently disagrees.
Mel’s throwing a bohemian-themed dinner tonight, and Jason is DOWN for DRESS-UPS. In the kitchen, Mel is running her own one-woman American Psycho pre-event, gloving up before massaging some very gory looking beetroot.
Shout of to Guy Williams’ exceptionally dicey pronunciations this week, particularly “cumin” in the style of “she’ll be cumin round the mountain when shes comes”. The guests start to arrive, and Louise calls for some boy burlesque. The door bell rings. It’s Jesse. He’s wearing peace sign earrings. What a boner-killer.
Talking of boners, after the beetroot entree, Lou and Jesse sneak into Mel’s lair. She has a creepy Venetian mask in her bedside drawer, as well as cable ties. But what really got me, was the clear copy of Twilight: New Moon hiding in plain sight.
“We accidentally went into your drawers” Louise reveals coyly, as Jesse saunters out cable-tied and masked-up to high heaven. Never mind, all it takes is another gross sexual innuendo-fest for everyone to forget everything that has ever happened:
After some un-crispy duck, Jesse bites off a big hunk of chili and has a big old spew of milk across the table. It’s the yuckest thing I have ever seen on television since that bedside Twilight book:
There’s some acoustic guitar, some twerking, and some cheesecake. Mel comes out with a grand score of 27, and I’ve been put off milk (and pork) for the rest of my life.
Week Eight – Day Two
We are at Jason the hospo teacher’s house tonight, sure to get a stern lesson in napkin-folding and washing your hands. “My dedication in boxing will help me tonight” Jason reckons, pulling a Monika and hitting the popular driveway training circuit.
He’s making a butternut pumpkin ravioli with burnt butter sauce from scratch, which feels far too fancy for this show. Get that man a limited edition Al Brown cap, because he looks like a Masterchef to me. I was all confident about Jason until he did something weird. Kissing the pasta dough passionately, he groaned, “just like Mumma used to make.”
There’s no doubt that he is a total pro though, whipping up possibly the first jus of the season. Star Anise, cider, cardamom – he is essentially the Flava Flav of Christchurch. And it wouldn’t be Come Dine without a random cocktail slave appearing in the background:
With his swan ice sculpture carved and crystal polished, it’s time to greet the guests. Jesse has gone all out tonight, hair swept up in a luxury bun and his finest $2 bow tie straightened to perfection. Jason is more concerned with people noticing his crystal, “look at these glasses, aren’t these wonderful?” he asks nobody in particular.
Grossly, Mel arrives demanding a full service for the evening. “Will you be pampering to all our needs… happy endings?” There might not be any of that bedroom malarkey, but Jason’s made sure that all things in the kitchen will reach maximum satisfaction. He’s talking wine matches, he’s talking sage, he’s talking burnt butter. The slave remains toiling away in the makeshift bar.
After the delicious ravioli with a side dish of Jason’s pasta kisses, it’s time to describe everyone at the table with one word. I can’t see how this would go badly. I can’t see how calling Louise an alcoholic would be offensive. All good, no worries over here. Jesse admits that he made out with a 45 year-old once, and then gets increasingly confused by the term “young buck”. If you think that’s confusing, wait until you hear how he says “jus” (juice).
Confirming my suspicions that this elegant dinner party might be a preamble to some sort of Eyes Wide Shut situation, Lou suggestively tell Jesse that “we [older ladies] have a lot to teach younger guys”. Ah hell, there’s an orgy coming isn’t there. All jus and Star Anise everywhere. Disgusting. The night is topped off with a Burlesque performer, who reluctantly writhes as Jesse and Jason high-five across the table.
“She started taking her clothes off and we hadn’t even eaten dessert yet!” Mel lamented. Fear not Mel, a delicious crème brûlée is in its way. Monika was not overly impressed, criticising Jason for going too hard out with the blow torch. Damn, the human torch has truly been denied a bank loan.
We end the night with Jason presumably scoring 100 points. I was so distracted by this RARE SHOT of the Come Dine driver that I dropped my pen. The end is nigh, the curtain has dropped, the show is unravelling.
Week Eight – Day One
It’s the final week of this season of Come Dine With Me NZ, before Heather du Plessis-Allan and Duncan Garner sit down and tell us a nice story or whatever. I’m sad, look how far we’ve come. The Hugh Hefner costumes, the relentless gag of dressing in drag, the Grandma g-strings. Brings a tear to my eye.
Our final first night is in St Albans, Christchurch, with the effervescent Louise in searing technicolour. She’s a collector of all things unique, bright and colourful. Oh, and Neverending Story characters, apparently:
She is joined by Jesse, a 19 year-old gamer who loves to eat almost as much as he loves his unauthorised pitch for the new New Zealand flag:
Jason, a man who loves to box alone his backyard (another CDWMNZ staple), trains tertiary students in hospitality, and is definitely far too fancy to be here:
Monica, a student working three jobs who believes that she has “above average” intellect, and likes dancing the salsa in her driveway:
And Mel, the queen of the classic yoga-pose-on-tiny-stage-whilst-looking-in-mirror manoeuvre, and big fan of niche underground VHS series Friends.
The guests rock up to Mel’s Frida Kahlo-themed dinner party with many fake flowers and many terrible shirts. Jesse tries to drink through the pain of his ugly floral number by downing a chilled-out glass of sangria like a Jagerbomb at a 21st. It’s cool.
Because it’s Christchurch, nay, New Zealand – Monica and Jason already know each other. Jason taught her, but denies there being any “student teacher thing going on”. With that lawsuit avoided, he instantly relaxes into the situation, choosing to luxuriate on a bed in full siesta mode for some reason:
After eating some delicious soup with chips on top (10 points from me), it’s time to instantly drag up of course. Because this is Come Dine With Me, where everyone’s in drag and the reasons don’t matter. I find it very weird that this is the go-to – is it a Doubtfire throwback? An expression of genuine experimentation? Or do they just think it’s hilarious? I want to see a thesis about this STAT.
After a burrito main, Jesse licks his plate because he is “young, wild and free”. Apparently he’s so young he’s not used to the joys of sour cream, describing it as “a bland yoghurt”. Oh Jesse, you’ll learn so much about the world once your unauthorised flag inevitably gets chosen by your now-overlord Julie Christie. You’ll have to attend so many events peddling sour cream canapés that your lil head will spin.
After an amateur tarot card session and a fiery chocolate dessert, lovable Louise came away with a grand total of 27 points.
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