When you’ve grown up with home cooked meals & kibanda food as your daily nourishment, the idea of fine dining is very enticing.
I wore what I could gather from my wardrobe that was close enough to be considered black tie attire and thought, it’s just food, right? Spoiler alert: it’s not just food.
I waltzed into Trademark Suites at Enaki Town deep in the heart of Nyari, with the same confidence I bring to my regular kibanda. The only difference? My go-to kibanda lady already knows what to bring, as soon as my head dips under the low door frame of her makeshift hotel.
Like the opening chapter of a novel that hooks you in just enough to keep turning the pages, I was met with a cream of spinach soup.
And not your regular, boiled-mashed-up spinach. This was spinach that had lived a good life, gone to a top international university, and decided to settle down in Karen.
Imagine my shock. But I played along, pretending like this was exactly what I expected.
Course two arrived: consommé celestine. Now, if I hadn’t been reading the menu like a high school student cramming for an exam, I would’ve had no idea what that meant.
But it came in a delicate bowl, so I figured it was just another soup. I took a cautious sip, and immediately realised that I was in deep waters. This broth tasted like it had been slow-cooked for years, gently whispering secrets of French culinary history with every sip.
Meanwhile, I kept nodding at the Nederburg Sauvignon Blanc wine they poured me, because that’s what everyone else was doing. Was it the right pairing? Who knows! But I nodded like a seasoned connoisseur.
The next few courses felt like watching a high-budget movie unfold, spicy butternut with herb oil, smoked salmon with avocado, each course a new plot twist.
It was all so dainty, so fragile, and yet somehow powerful enough to make me question my entire relationship with food.
Was this what I had been missing at the kibanda all these years?
By the time we hit the mains, like Beef Wellington with red wine jus, I was both terrified and intrigued.
It was becoming increasingly clear that I had brought a kibanda appetite to a gourmet food fight.
Even the beef was portioned like an exclusive secret, teasing my palate with just enough to make me want more but never fully satisfying my ravenous hunger.
All the while, the waitstaff kept pouring me wines, each one dryer than the last. And while I had no idea if they actually complemented the dishes, I sipped along, not wanting to be the odd one out.
Somewhere around course ten, I started to have an existential crisis. I realised that food, like life, sometimes comes in small, curated doses, forcing you to savour every moment rather than devour it in haste.
The pan-fried fish fillet with prawns that followed was a gentle nudge to slow down and appreciate the subtleties, even if I was fighting the urge to ask for a second serving.
And then came dessert. Three of them. Each one smaller than the last, but somehow more indulgent.
Russian honey cake, tiramisu, and Amarula malva pudding, all paraded before me like a final act in a Broadway show.
Each bite was a crescendo of sweetness, a gentle reminder that all things, whether food or life, must come to an end.
And just when I thought the night couldn’t get any more intriguing, someone at the table casually mentioned this whole experience was part of a show that would be airing on TV.
The chefs who prepared the meals are part of the Master Cook competition where professional and amateur chefs will battle it out. The fine dining experience was just the start of the challenges they will have to undergo.
That’s right, I may have just publicly exposed myself as a fine-dining novice in front of cameras, nodding at wines I didn’t understand and pronouncing French words like I was ordering sukuma at my kibanda.
Lesson learned. Next time, I’ll leave my kibanda appetite at home. Or, at the very least, practice saying “consommé” without stuttering.
The next stages include the Bush Challenge, where chefs will be thrown into the wilderness and forced to cook without the comforts of a modern kitchen, no stoves, no fancy gadgets, just raw ingredients and rawer talent.
Then there’s the Kenyan Food Challenge, where they have to craft a full plate of traditional Kenyan dishes, all on a limited budget, proving that you can create magic with simple, everyday ingredients.
There is also the Street Food Challenge, where the chefs will step out of their gourmet world and into the hustle of the streets, preparing and selling food to the masses.
The catch? The team with the most sales avoids elimination. There’s also the Asian Food Challenge, where they dive into a completely different cuisine, navigating foreign spices and techniques.
And finally, the Grand Finale, where only the best survive, serving up their signature dishes to determine who walks away as the ultimate champion.
#FeatureByKenchicMastercookChef’sCompetition
