Great British Menu - TV review

You could be forgiven for thinking that the BBC is rather ashamed of the Great British Menu.

For seven years now, it has lived jealously in TV's twilight zone, battling for attention against the early evening soaps, while culinary cousin Masterchef soars into orbit on the back of prime-time exposure.

If ever there was a year for GBM to break the shackles, 2012 was surely going to be it. The show has branded itself the GastrOlympics to cash in on our obsession with all things connected to the London games.

Chefs from all corners of the UK are challenged to produce Olympic-inspired dishes – from the dizzyingly eccentric to the downright impractical – which are deemed fit to strike gold at a four-course gala banquet.

But, alas, in spite of this topical twist, the show remains in the graveyard slot on BBC2.

It's rather odd for chefs who spend a zillion hours in the kitchen to be tantalised with a prize which invites them to simply do more of the same.

But the chefs seem to relish the challenge. There is genuine competition and tension in the kitchen . . . never more so than last night.

This week, the North West of England is in the spotlight, with returning contenders Johnnie Mountain and Aiden Byrne, locking horns with newcomer Simon Rogan.

On Monday, the northern lads sought to dazzle with their starters, including foie gras ice cream and truffle custard. Last night the question was, who would prevail in the fish course?

Johnnie – in last place after the first round – concocted a Recreation of the Sea with 'sand' made from crushed ice cream cornets and bits of silly shrapnel. And, crucially, precious little fish. I've seen similar looking mush washed up on Barmouth beach.

Aiden made beetroot poached salmon, caviar, razor clam, citrus and fennel salad, and early leader Simon served up lobster with pickled beetroot, sweet apple and cuckoo flower paste. Both with oodles of fish.

And so, even a beans on toast junkie could see what was coming. Big marks for Aiden and Simon, and 2/10 for poor Johnnie. It was all too much.

He threw a hissy fit, swore a lot, crashed some pans in the store room, and flounced off.

Will Johnny be back tomorrow? Who knows. But he'll be no loss to the final banquet.

His ego leaves little room for anything else on his plate. Now he can skulk away and rustle up a Heston-style experimental feast . . . perhaps a giant brandy snap dessert in the shape of a pram, filled with jellied toys, which he can throw out to his heart's content.

Like Johnny's antics, The Great British Menu is gormlessly stupid. The judges – Matthew Fort, Prue Leith and Oliver Payton – are comically pompous, the voiceover hugely condescending, and the dishes impractical and elitist.

But there's no denying that, as each group of warring regional foodies lock horns, the intoxicating mix of ego, eccentricity and quest for perfection is mischievously fun to watch.

Carl Jones