Sashaying into her kitchen holding a little dog dressed as a French maid, Paris greets us by saying: “As you all know – well, maybe not all of you know – people who do know know that I’m an amazing cook.” It’s a 21-word sentence and the first 17 are entirely redundant. All she needed to say was “I’m an amazing cook.”
And she is. So long as you remember that ‘amazing’ doesn’t mean ‘good’, or even ‘enthusiastic’. At the very first hurdle – preparing the lasagne sheets – Paris realises she’s been supplied with ones that need to be boiled, and she complains. She shows us all the ricotta she’ll be using, then tells us not to use as much as her. She realises that her mozzarella doesn’t come pre-grated, and sighs with such deep resignation you think she might be about to jack the whole thing in. “This is so brutal” she complains, before discarding an almost untouched block of cheese for fear that the grater will destroy her fingers.
