We start with, for the millionth time, a recap of the rules for elimination cook-offs. "If you cook the worst dish you're going home," says a genuinely fearful Laura, whose home life now appears questionable.

The judges stand before the contestants to tell them today’s challenge – Preston is present but for once his cravat is absent, giving viewers a rare glimpse of what he’s been hiding behind those hideous bandannas for years… his neck.

In this episode, the game has been changed up - judges are asking the contestants what they want to cook.

This situation - which happens, literally millions of times every day, in the real world - shocks the contestants, who have been finally broken by the Abu Ghraib-esque sensory deprivation of being trapped in the MasterChef kitchen for months.

The contestants are also allowed to pick how long they want to cook for – bizarrely, rather than choosing say three weeks or "hammer time" they choose 90 minutes, creating what will surely be a rod for their own backs.

As the contestants rush to the pantry, leaving the judges to chat among themselves. George wants "a slight bit of restraint" in today’s meals, he tells Preston, who's never restrained himself from anything.

We have a flashback to the last ep, in which the contestants got letters from the outside world – letters no doubt relentlessly screened by the CIA-esque Fremantle Media.

Emelia's mum's letter, tells her that she's "one of the most talented contestants in this show".

Considering that there are, what, six contestants left and this letter is from her mum, we might see this as damning with faint praise. Emelia is clearly not her mother’s favourite daughter.

Tracy is crumbling under the weight of free thought. Given a free reign with her dish, she's making mashed potato. Apologies, potato purée - it's French for 'definitely not just plain ol' mashed potatoes"

Poor Laura, she's become a bit stereotyped.

Every episode she's asked to pull her Nonna onto the plate. Really, could we not let her channel her 19-year-old uni student for once and serve up nachos and a vodka cruisers?

On her way to make something inspired by her heritage/family/broad TV stereotypes, Laura has burnt her artichokes. She's "devastated", and decides to cook them again. Matt comes over to tell her she should probably cook them again, she agrees. Then, in a twist, she chooses not to cook them again. Nope, hang on, post ad break the artichoke cook is back on, Laura wiping away tears from the trauma of having to make a decision.

Really, if we look closely at this show, what's actually going on is a bunch of sooks crying over having to do mundane tasks. Does this make us feel better about our lives?

George is yelling at Tracy for having a messy dish and also a shell of a life. He'd make a great councillor, George. 'Yelling your way to sanity', the 10-step program. Anyway, Tracy looks on the edge and George looks determined to push her over - for her own good, of course. Actually, Tracy really does have crap everywhere. George looks genuinely disgusted, the first genuine emotion on this show in seasons. Phew.

Laura's saved her artichokes. Is she cooking other things? It's not immediately clear. "I wanted time to make this dish perfect, I've left everything to last minute, and now it's not going to be perfect," says Brent – which, come on mate, is your own damn fault.

Geez Tracy, what on Earth have you made? It's... Chicken on a plate with corn kernels. What happened to the potato mash? Everyone likes a good ‘tater mash.

Jamie, that bearded rogue, has made duck salad. Lots of texture, says Gary, which I suppose means, yes, there are several different vegetables in the dish. "It's a clever salad" says Gary, which is like winning a gold medal at the Commonwealth Games – you did good, son, but nobody likes salad.

Emelia has done an untraditional baklava, and is worried that George will hate it because he's Greek. Another example of the ethnic stereotyping this show relishes - come on guys, George is a chef and a person, not just a Greek.

Emelia's tearing up about the letter again and the fact the whole viewing public knows that she's not the favourite daughter. It's better than the original baklava, George pronounces, which would be a big call if this show we're so prone to hyperbole. Instead as a pronouncement it rates somewhere between 'meh’ and ‘eh’.

Laura says her dish combines everything her mother and her nonna have taught her - clearly, because she's just piled it all up on the plate. The judges nevertheless love it. As he walks toward judgement Brent says he's "trying to hold his emotions back" because he hasn't understood how this show works. Still.

Brent's cooked what he’s calling The Light At The End Of The Tunnel, "something he's been wanting to express for 10 years now".

"What is it about?" asks Gary. "It's about", Brent pauses, "the light at the end of the tunnel." He's had 10 years to think on that answer, but still went with the ponytail? Brent, realising that he’s not exactly making the highlights reel here, cries a bit about his father. Here, the veil is removed and the wizard is visible. George notes that Brent's food might be terrible but he gets points for crying.

Tracy's disaster is presented – corn and chicken in a puddle of bernaise sauce. Matt tries to make her feel better by saying that really it's all about taste, but you're just softening the blow there Matt. Gary calls it "comforting", and then proceeds to tell her that it tastes bad.

This, Tracy, is what they call a shit sandwich. George, seated in between the other two judges, being the shit - "It's not quite finished."

Laura wins the challenge, the judges revealing a preference for food piled in a ... pile.

Tracy is sent home to wallow in her bernaise. "How do you feel, asks Gary. "I'm sad but grateful", Tracy says, remembering the old adage of always thanking the producers in defeat.