treat yo self

This the part where I twiddle my thumbs and admit how invested I was in this year's season of Masterchef, because I almost watched it religiously in China and Japan. Reynold was just really great, okay! (Let it be known how scripted and rigged reality television is - Julie winning over Poh in the first season of Masterchef Australia will never be okay. Never forget.)



Anyhow, skip my investment in making sure Reynold went through each round (television has never been so tense), skip the tears and outrage (come on, Jessie, you let down the bloody team), skip his elimination (why you no read instructions) - last Sunday he held his first pop-up in Sydney Dance Lounge. In the expected combination of I-am-always-online and too-much-social-media-in-my-life I managed to snag a table with my mates. Sunday night dinner were four glorious courses of dessert that had us begging for mercy by round three, where we repeated a mantra of, "Must. Finish. Paid. Eighty. Must. Eat."



The excitement to try the Forbidden Fruit was real. And it was glorious. Enough said. It was just a really fun night.