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A long, long time ago, a scamp that I barely knew by the name of the Food Urchin caught me at a vulnerable moment and used some kind of Derren Brown-style trickery to convince me not only to make his dinner for him, but also to package it up and bring it to him. It turned out he had previous form, as a whole cavalcade of foodies had somehow been suckered one by one into providing sustenance for this miscreant under the auspices of something called Where's My Pork Chop ? What's worse is that, rather than be grateful for our offerings, he felt at liberty to criticise our food and he even began to court the MasterChef finalists , as apparently none of us were high-profile or sexy enough. The swine. Eventually, we could take no more, and we rebelled and demanded some recompense. Astonishingly, he more than rose to the challenge with his #WMPCIMU . Crank up the sound, watch the video and then join me in applauding the Food Urchin , for he is indeed the Fire Pit King. Incidentall

Anyway folks, I'm off to Iceland for a bit. No, seriously. BYE!

Some people don't like century eggs. Those people are wrong . Whenever I visit Burma, I try to consume five times my bodyweight in food - that’s just the way I roll (sometimes literally, on the way back from Heathrow). Give me a break, I only make it out there every couple of years, so I need to make it last. This means I eat out (and in) about 12 times a day and succeed in putting on at least two dress sizes. I’m completely spoilt for choice when it comes to eating out - there are 135 ethnic groups in Burma each with varying cuisines. I’m a mixed bag myself - I worked out the other day that I’m 38% Shan, 32% Bamar, 13% Intha and 17% Chinese. I used a spreadsheet and everything. I guess it’s the Chinese in me that drives me to visit Shway Bè in Mandalay (that and the magnificent mascot - see above), for Shway Bè is ostensibly a Chinese restaurant, though most of the food has a Burmese twist. And when we’re there, we always order the roast duck (Shway Bè means

" It is written that those who read or listen to the story of Dhruv will achieve devotion and their sorrows will be destroyed ." The Legend of Dhruv (no, seriously) So - here's the one you've apparently all been waiting for, an interview with the winner of the 2010 series of MasterChef, Dhruv Baker. The other day I had lunch with a friend of mine and his verdict on Dhruv was as follows: " He's handsome and he can cook. Men want to be him. Women want to be with him. It's inspiring, but I think I kinda hate him ". Yes, yes, we all love (or in my friend's case, hate) Dhruv. But despite our love for this angelic creature , at the same time he's been directly responsible for some of the most unholy puns known to man eg " Dhruvy Kind of Love ", "Dhruv is in the Heart" and even, slightly bizarrely, " Master Baker " (please don't go there). Although I guess I have to give some kind of credit to the Torygraph for gi

Next up in my series of MasterChef interrogations is everyone's favourite former doctor Tim Kinnaird. Tim is magical in many ways, not least because he is six foot three (for reals). All of us were rooting for him as he staggered up those stairs at the Tower of London, our hearts were in our mouths when his green tea sorbet didn't set, and we cheered when the Maharajah tried to adopt him . Let's face it, the man's adorable. A quick glance at my Google Analytics shows me the question that appears to be on everybody's lips is: " What did Tim do to his ribs on MasterChef? " I don't know, people. I don't know . And I failed to ask him, so perhaps the answer will forever be beyond our reach. Of course the other question on everybody's lips was "Why did the BBC call him a Children's Doctor?". Various media outlets sought to mock this choice of nomenclature, so here's the real story straight from the horse's mouth : "

It's funny, you go through life throwing peanuts at the telly when occasionally you see something that knocks you for six. Regular readers will know that I quite like MasterChef, and it was whilst I was watching this year's show that I had my "WTF?" moment. So there we were, my husband and I, sitting on the sofa watching the quarter-finals (confession - I don't watch the whole series - if I did, it would give me a stroke), when I poked him in the ribs and said "'Ere, I know that bloke. Kind of". "That bloke" was a gentleman by the name of Dhruv Baker. And when I say "kind of", I'm referring to the fact that he was one of my followers on Twitter (though to be fair, he didn't say much). Hubby said "Yeah, whatever, lunatic woman", but I was spurred to ascertain if it was indeed him . Long story short, it turned out that three of my Twitter chums were competing in MasterChef - @DhruvBaker1 , @DrTimKinnaird and @j

I have a terrible confession to make. I only discovered Malaysian food about a year ago. I know, I know, I was obviously spending too much time eating sashimi (if in doubt, go for Japanese being my motto) Turns out Malaysian food is a lot like Burmese food, insofar as there's an emphasis on rich curries and noodles with salads thrown in for luck. And it's bleeding gorgeous - so much so that it now ranks a close second after my beloved Nippon cuisine in the eating out stakes. Kiasu is a Nyonya Malay place specialising in food from the Straits and surrounding areas. I've wanted to go for a good while, having heard great things about it. But when you consider it's in Bayswater, it's far too easy to pop into Royal China for dimsum instead. Thankfully the lovely girls at Sauce invited me to an event at Kiasu to launch the Malaysian Dining Card - a free scheme (yes, free) which entitles you to special offers at a whole range of Malaysian restaurants. I wasn't g