For the first time this season judges and contestants must cope without Jamie Oliver there to make life worth living. Can they manage a decent performance without the cheeky Cockney there earning more than any of them? Or will they wilt like flowers deprived of sunshine, unable to see the point in either cooking or eating without an English accent to sustain them?

It’s a two-round elimination, and Andy announces that the first round will be set by a very special guest. Everyone is very excited, and then Andy reveals that it’s his mum, and everyone stops being very excited. Out comes Andy’s mum to tell the deflated amateurs that she is a terrible cook and present three of the horrible meals Andy had to eat as a child.

These are: the “pine-burger” (a muffin with tomato paste, ham, cheese and pineapple); an incredibly depressing-looking lamb chop; and “fruit salad slice”, which appears to be technically a hate crime. The amateurs must cook a dish inspired by one of atrocities, and presumably by “inspired by” they don’t mean they can just say “I was inspired to cook something much better than this”. The five worst dishes will go into the second round for elimination, but after learning about Andy’s childhood they will have the consolation that life could be worse.

Everyone is working very hard despite the atmosphere of utter despair that has come over the kitchen ever since Andy brought his mum in.

Given this horrifying challenge, the cooks immediately all lose their minds. Alex is making some kind of raspberry fruit roll-up ravioli Frankenstein dessert. Snezana is making “carrot and three veg”, a baffling concept that seems to break the bounds of decency. Gillian is making three kinds of gnocchi just to annoy everyone. Jonathan, declaring that he is not good at desserts but refusing to listen to himself, has decided to make basically exactly the same slice Andy’s mum made because the challenge has just depressed him into masochism. Andy
informs him that his dish needs to be “MasterChef-worthy”, which isn’t strictly true: as long as Jonathan doesn’t mind going home today, it doesn’t really have to be anything.

Meanwhile, Juan is concentrating on pulling amusing faces in the absence of any better ideas. Everyone is working very hard despite the atmosphere of utter despair that has come over the kitchen ever since Andy brought his mum in. The judges gather and Jean-Christophe declares that it is “no time for prisoners”, a menacing harbinger of violence to come.

As time ticks away, the madness only grows. Darrsh tells Jean-Christopher he’s “browning the bones”. Jean-Christophe backs away, afraid to ask whose bones they are. Jonathan trots sadly around the kitchen holding a white chocolate sphere, believing it to be his baby. “We want to see the mother of all dishes!” Sofia yells, before angrily berating the writers who feed her lines into her earpiece for letting her down.

Alex declares herself stoked with her fruit gel, proving once again that her bar for happiness is frighteningly low. Meanwhile, Snezana wonders whether her dish will supply the delicious flavour of lamb, given there’s no lamb in it.

Time is up and the judges, unspeakably brave as they are, agree to put the contestants’ food in their mouths. The worst five are: Jonathan, who froze his cake solid and couldn’t get it out of the tin; Harry, who forgot that cooking lamb traditionally involves the application of heat; Nat, who made the same mistake with her pastry; Gillian, who discovers that three kinds of gnocchi is over-ambitious when you can’t even do one properly; and Darrsh, who made that
classic mistake that so many people make when preparing a sauce: making it taste disgusting.

Andy’s mum gives a little speech advising the amateurs to “be yourself”, causing them all to resolve to always do the opposite, and then Andy tells her to get the hell out, and the Bad Five must now cook for survival, while the remainder join the winners of last week’s service challenge to stand on the balcony like Michael Sheen in Twilight, judging all below them.

The second round is simple: the Bad Five must cook a dish inspired by, and/or containing parts of, their families. Drawing upon memories of varying levels of happiness, they get to work, knowing that failing to do justice to their loved ones could result in the ultimate punishment of having to see them again. Four of the amateurs immediately grab a pressure cooker, but find they won’t fit inside, and decide to use it for cooking instead.

It’s a day for surprises. “Oh,” says Gillian, “I’ve got chillies in my pocket”. But the question is, will the spice make up for the fact that texturally, her pocket can be a little chewy? Jonathan, meanwhile, has decided to pull out the big guns, cross-cutting to a photo of himself as a baby with his nonna. The other cooks shudder, afraid they’ll never match that level of nostalgic cuteness.

The judges discuss families. Jean-Christophe reveals that he grew up being slapped on the head regularly. Poh worries that there is a danger of “falling into memories”, but she probably just got “memories” confused with “soup”. With fifteen minutes to go, Jonathan, Darrsh, Gillian and Nat are stressed, while Harry is fairly chilled, knowing that since he’s barely been seen in this challenge, there’s no way he’s going home.

The moment of truth arrives. The amateurs take the lids off their pressure cookers, suffering severe steam burns. Jonathan’s ragu is disappointing. “My head’s going all over the place,” he admits, after a shocking accident with a cleaver. Harry, on the other hand, has some moist ravioli…if you know what I mean. Nat is asked whether she’d like to use her immunity pin, but such sickening cowardice is not in her nature.

But as entertaining as blind panic is, the time comes to once more watch people eating food. They eat Darrsh’s brinjal curry, which has eggplant in it but is good anyway. They eat Harry’s Nonna’s ravioli, and are disappointed with his broth, which has been spoiled despite only having one cook. “If there’s holes in your dish, it leaves you vulnerable,” says Andy, and he’s right: your food can fall onto the floor for a start.

They eat Gillian’s Thit Kho, a traditional Vietnamese dish with pork belly and quail eggs. “It shows a lot of growth,” says Poh, which is disturbing, but despite the fact the dish is apparently alive, they love it. They eat Nat’s Moo Paloo, a Thai dish also with pork belly. The rice is dense, but then it never had a decent education. Otherwise it is basically fine. Finally they eat Jonathan’s Nonna’s beef ragu pappardelle, which is served with a tearful anecdote on the side. The ragu is uncooked, and the pasta is clumsy, exposing it to cruel taunts in the playground.

Harry and Jonathan’s dishes are the worst, resulting in a tense Nonna Versus Nonna Face-Off. In the end, it is Jonathan who has disgraced the nation of Italy slightly more, and so he must go home. “This might’ve been your last day in the kitchen, but you’ve cooked us something from your heart and from your home,” says Poh, which, given that what he cooked was a terrible failure, seems like rubbing it in. “I don’t think my MasterChef journey will ever be over,” says Jonathan, extremely incorrectly.

And so Jonathan wanders aimlessly off into the distance. Tune in tomorrow, when a mystery box causes terror and devastation.

Come back after Wednesday’s episode for Ben Pobjie’s next unmissable MasterChef recap.