I don't claim to be a Masterchef but i do pride myself on making my dishes look like the pic in the recipe. Hell, I won't even attempt to use recipes without visual accompaniments as a) there's no real challenge and b) if it tastes like poo, you can't say "Oh well, it tasted like balls but at least it looked the picture".
A year after Poh smacked together her Chicken Rendang with Coconut Lace Pancakes i thought i'd give it a crack. The chicken was OK. Significantly better on the 2nd day as one would expect with a curry but my cross-hatch autistic excuse for a pancake just did not work. I can't even liken it to anything. Well, maybe play-dough. Tasted and looked similar, one might say. Granted we didn't have the milk carton (we use 2 liter plastic bottles) but we devised a very clever substitute using one of those Chinese takeaway rice containers (like the ones that were found to be used in those string of public transport terrorist attacks in London) with a very small pouring hole in the side, which by laws of physics, should've worked perfectly, alas, we failed.
Thankfully we had foresight enough not to invite cronies round for dinner and embarrass ourselves, and instead gobbled down our mess while watching Walter cook up a perfect batch of Crystal Meth in one of the last Breaking Bad's for season 3.
