Celebrity MasterChef 2025 waved goodbye to another hopeful tonight after the semi-finalists were put through their paces by legendary Italian chef Gennaro Contaldo – but who ended up leaving?

The episode opened with seven celebrities battling it out in the kitchen, each hoping to impress Gennaro enough to be named Cook of the Day. But in a twist for semi-final week, that title comes with a price: the winner leaves the competition early, securing their place in the next round but cutting short their stint in the kitchen.

The remaining six then faced a second challenge, returning to their stations to cook for judges John Torode and Grace Dent in a tense showdown that ultimately sealed one contestant’s fate.

The Celebrity MasterChef 2025 finalists were cooking for Gennaro Contaldo tonight (Credit: BBC)

Celebrity MasterChef task Cook of the Day

Wednesday night’s show was the second semi-final of this week and featured the final seven.

In the kitchen was Ginger Johnson, Dawn O’Porter, Alfie Boe, Alun-Wyn Jones, Jamie Lomas, Ashley Cain and Katie McGlynn. Chris Hughes and Antony Costa left the competition on Monday.

The episode began with the contestants being introduced to Italian cooking royalty, Gennaro Contaldo. All seven were tasked with re-creating one of his famous recipes. And they weren’t easy!

One budding cook really stood out from the rest. Hollyoaks actor Jamie made sweet pastries with chestnuts, chocolate, rum and raisins. It was served with an espresso custard.

Gennaro was stunned by the finished plate, telling him: “The pastry is unbelievable. It crumbles and is not hard. Wow. It’s excellent.”

John added: “I’ll give you an ace. You’ve got a class act.”

Grace, meanwhile, said: “The pastry is a work of art. It is absolutely beautiful.”

Jamie was awarded Cook of the Day. This meant he could leave the kitchen and head home. He is straight through to the next semi-final round.

The others, however, had to cook again to secure their places in the competition.

Hay-baked chicken and cheesy corn

The remaining six celebrities were told to cook a dish that had great significance to them for their second challenge. They were to draw on this heritage and best memories.

Rugby player Alun Wyn cooked up a lobster linguine that reminded him of living in France. Grace said it had “real depth”, while John told him: “Congratulations, you got it absolutely bang on.”

English Tenor Alfie made Italian hay-baked lemon chicken with purple spouting broccoli. John said his chicken was “cooked beautifully”.

Grace added: “It’s delicious. You have convinced me to add a bag of hay to my online shopping delivery.”

Ginger drew upon her memories of Korea Town in New York. She made bao buns with lemon pepper beef and shallots, with kimchi and cheesy corn.

“The star of the show is your bao bun,” John said. Grace added: “Your cheesy corn is a big plate of stodge, I love it.”

Dawn, who has Scottish heritage, made John and Grace wear tartan hats to sample her food. She served up panfried Mackrell and smoked haddock, potato and cream sauce.

Grace said she “loved it”, while John simply told her: “It’s bonnie.”
The five remaining contestants had to cook again after Jamie left for the day (Credit: BBC)

Who went home?

Katie and Ashley impressed the judges the least with their meals.

Former Coronation Street actress Katie made a lamb hot pot served with homemade soda bread. But she was told by John her lamb canon was “overdone and slightly chewy”. Grace, however, said her gravy was “outstanding”.

Ashley, whose family hails from St Vincent in the Grenadines, cooked jerk chicken, an orange, pineapple and sesame seed salad and a flatbread.

Grace had warned him: “I want that jerk sauce to be rich and zinging.” But unfortunately, the reality star failed to deliver.

Grace told him: “When you start to eat, it hasn’t got that fire and oomph you need from the jerk.”

John added: “The breads are nicely made but you’ve cooked them a little bit too long and they’re starting to go dry.”

The judges sent Ashley home, despite Katie’s fail with her “chewy lamb”.

“Beyond doubt, Ashley wanted to take us to his happy place and he really put effort into this,” Grace said. “But that jerk chicken could have done with more chilli heat.”

Ashley took his elimination on the chin. He told John: “I never knew how much this competition would actually mean to me. It’s been an absolute pleasure to be in your presence.”

The star reached out and hugged John before telling Grace it had also been “lovely” working with her.
Ashley Cain was sent home from Celebrity MasterChef 2025 (Credit: BBC)

When is Celebrity MasterChef on again?

The competition rolls on tomorrow night, with Celebrity MasterChef’s remaining semi-final of 2025 airing at the later time of 9pm on BBC One and BBC iPlayer.

Jamie returns to the kitchen to join Katie, Alfie, Alun Wyn, Ginger and Dawn for a bumper night of cooking. First up is an invention challenge with a twist: the celebrities will work in pairs to create a main and a dessert, tackling the dishes in a relay. Timing, teamwork and a cool head will be everything.

Then it’s back to solo cooking for the second round, where each contestant must deliver an outstanding plate worthy of a place in the final.

The tension inside the Celebrity MasterChef kitchen had been building long before the elimination moment arrived, long before the judges’ faces tightened and their polite smiles began slipping into expressions of genuine concern. The competition had reached the point where every mistake carried weight, where every overcooked cube of lamb or poorly seasoned sauce risked undoing weeks of progress. Tonight, all eyes were on the celebrities who had battled through challenges designed to stretch their creativity, their time management, and their composure under the relentless scrutiny of Greg Wallace, John Torode, and the millions watching at home. And though no one walked into the kitchen intending to falter, mistakes have a way of revealing themselves under pressure. When the dishes were finally placed before the judges, the fate of one hopeful celebrity was sealed by chewy lamb, dry bread, and jerk chicken so mild it barely whispered across the palate.

The day had started with an air of confidence. The contestants had grown into their aprons, their movements more self-assured than in the early stages when nerves sent knives clattering and pans smoking. They had survived invention tests, mass catering, and grueling technical challenges. They had fed children, firemen, professional chefs, and some of the most critical palates in the industry. But the closer they came to the semifinal line, the smaller the margin for error became. The brief was simple: cook a dish that represented who they were as cooks, something that demonstrated technique, identity, and—above all—flavour. The judges demanded boldness. What they received, however, fell short of the culinary courage MasterChef expects.

One contestant, whose confidence had been rising steadily through the competition, approached the day with ambition. They chose lamb, a notoriously tricky protein even in the best of hands. Lamb needs respect—heat control, patience, an understanding of its delicate balance between gamey depth and tender sweetness. Cook it too quickly, and the fibres tighten into rubber. Cook it too slowly, and it loses moisture, collapsing into grainy disappointment. The celebrity in question believed their method would deliver. But as the judges soon discovered, belief in the kitchen does not always translate into execution. Greg’s fork struggled to cut through the meat, and John’s jaw tightened after the first bite. The lamb, though seasoned well and paired with an imaginative set of sides, was tough. “Chewy,” Greg announced with a regretful wince. “A real battle to get through.” And in that moment, the dish faltered, leaving its creator visibly shaken.

Another hopeful attempted to evoke nostalgia with a rustic-inspired dish centred on homemade bread. Bread, however, is another deceptively simple challenge—one that does not forgive lack of precision. The dough must be nurtured, allowed to rise, shaped with care, and baked with the right balance of heat and humidity. Under the time constraints of the MasterChef kitchen, bread becomes a volatile gamble. And tonight, the gamble did not pay off. When the judges tore into the loaf, the crust crumbled into a chalky dust. The interior lacked springiness. John pressed a fingertip into its centre, watching it fail to bounce back. “Dry,” he declared. “Too dry to enjoy. Bread should welcome you in, not leave you parched.” The contestant, eyes widening in frustration, had no choice but to accept the verdict.

But perhaps the most surprising disappointment came from a celebrity who had, until now, been one of the most consistent performers in the competition. Known for big flavours and bold combinations, they had approached the challenge with something close to their heart: jerk chicken. A dish rooted in cultural history, jerk requires not only spice but soul—the heat of Scotch bonnets, the smoky depth of allspice, the sweetness of thyme and brown sugar. It should hit the palate with intensity, linger with warmth, and announce itself unapologetically. Yet when the judges took their first bite, their reactions were immediate and unmistakable. The fire was missing. The vibrancy had vanished. “Where’s the kick?” Greg asked, shaking his head. “It’s mild. Too mild. You’ve taken all the excitement out of it.” The contestant sighed, shoulders sagging with the recognition of a crucial misstep. A jerk dish without heat is like a melody without rhythm—it loses its identity.

As the judges deliberated, the air in the gallery grew thick with anticipation. Each celebrity stood behind their station, hands clasped, breaths shallow, praying that their culinary stumbles did not eclipse their previous triumphs. The show’s charm lies not only in the glamour of success but also in the vulnerability that surfaces when the apron feels too heavy, when the kitchen feels too small, when the clock seems to betray even the most capable cooks. Tonight was one of those nights. Emotions swirled as the contestants replayed their mistakes in their minds—the lamb that needed more resting time, the bread that needed more care, the jerk marinade that needed more courage.

Greg and John returned to deliver their decision with solemn expressions. Their words carried the weight of mentors who had watched each contestant grow and evolve. They acknowledged the passion, the effort, the creativity displayed throughout the competition. But ultimately, someone had to go home. And tonight, that someone was the celebrity whose lamb failed to deliver tenderness—the dish that best encapsulated the gap between ambition and execution. The announcement was met with gasps, then silence. The eliminated contestant swallowed hard, managing a brave smile as the judges praised their journey and encouraged them to continue cooking beyond the show.

The departure marked a significant turning point in the competition. The surviving celebrities understood now, more than ever, that the slightest missteps could send them home. The stakes were rising, the challenges intensifying, and the judges’ expectations sharpening. Gone were the early days of forgiving underseasoned veg or chaotic plating. Now, dishes needed to sing, scream, resonate on every level. They needed identity, technique, passion—and above all, flavour that lingered long after the plate was cleared.

The eliminated contestant took time to reflect on their journey. They spoke of the highs—the first dish that earned praise, the surprise challenge they conquered, the confidence they rediscovered in the kitchen. They also acknowledged the mistakes, the lessons, the growth they never anticipated when they first stepped into the MasterChef studio. Cooking is a craft that demands humility, and tonight’s exit served as a bittersweet reminder that even the most enthusiastic cooks must be prepared to face the hard truths of the culinary world.

The remaining celebrities now faced the daunting task of pushing themselves further. They returned to the kitchen the next day with renewed determination, understanding that safety was no longer an option. They studied flavours more deeply, watched their timing more closely, tasted their dishes more frequently. Mistakes would no longer be forgiven. Every component had to be intentional, every technique executed with precision.

The judges, too, readied themselves for the next stages, knowing the competition had entered its most thrilling phase. Their critiques would become more exacting, their standards more uncompromising. They wanted to see heart—not just in the stories behind the dishes, but in the dishes themselves. They wanted food that made them sit up straighter, lean forward, smile without meaning to. They wanted excellence.

Meanwhile, viewers at home reacted with a mixture of shock and sympathy. Social media lit up with debates about the judges’ decision, arguments over whose dish was truly the weakest, and declarations of loyalty to the eliminated star. Fans mourned the departure but also celebrated the contestant’s growth. Such is the emotional rollercoaster that keeps Celebrity MasterChef a beloved fixture in the entertainment landscape: audiences invest in the personalities, the journeys, the triumphs and the failures, experiencing the tension and relief right alongside the cooks.

But perhaps the most meaningful aspect of the episode was the reminder that cooking, for all its glamour and artistry, is an intimate and vulnerable act. It exposes insecurity. It reveals character. It challenges emotional endurance as much as technical skill. Tonight’s episode became a testament to that reality. The chewy lamb represented not incompetence but a moment of panic, a misjudgment under pressure. The dry bread wasn’t a lack of care but a struggle with timing. The mild jerk chicken wasn’t a betrayal of heritage but hesitation, fear of overdoing what needed boldness. These mistakes were human—and humanity is the heartbeat of the show.

As the competition progressed, the departing contestant reflected on how far they had come from their first uncertain steps in the MasterChef kitchen. They realized that leaving the show did not diminish their achievements, nor did it close the chapter on their culinary journey. If anything, it opened the door to new possibilities. They spoke fondly of the friendships formed, of the newfound appreciation for food, of the confidence they gained in their ability to create something meaningful on a plate. They acknowledged the bittersweet nature of the experience—pride intertwined with disappointment—but welcomed the journey ahead with quiet optimism.

Back in the kitchen, the judges introduced the next challenge with a stern but encouraging reminder: “This is where champions are made.” The remaining celebrities felt the words settle in their bones. They knew that the path ahead would be grueling, exhilarating, and unpredictable. But they also knew that they had survived another elimination. They had been given another chance. And in a competition where every dish could be their last, another chance was everything.

As the episode drew to a close, the eliminated celebrity walked away from the MasterChef studio for the final time. But instead of sadness, there was a sense of fulfillment—pride in their achievements, gratitude for the experience, and a spark of excitement for what might come next. Celebrity MasterChef had pushed them to their limits, taught them lessons they never knew they needed, and revealed strengths they didn’t know they possessed. And though they left without the trophy, they left with something perhaps even more valuable: a newfound love for cooking that would continue long after the cameras stopped rolling.

In the days that followed, interviews celebrated their departure, social media flooded with messages of support, and fans eagerly awaited their next creative venture. The culinary world, they realized, was vast and welcoming—and they had already taken their first, unforgettable steps into it. Meanwhile, the remaining contestants braced themselves for the battles ahead, knowing that chewy lamb, dry bread, and mild jerk chicken were not just mistakes of the past, but reminders of what the competition demanded: boldness, precision, and relentless passion.

And so another chapter of Celebrity MasterChef came to a close, marked by tears, laughter, disappointment, and triumph. The kitchen would open again tomorrow, filled with sizzling pans, aromatic spices, and the relentless countdown of the clock. But tonight, viewers sat back, reflecting on the drama that had unfolded—the rise and fall of a contestant who poured their heart into every dish, and the judges who, with honesty and care, guided them to the end of their MasterChef journey.

In the hours that followed the elimination, when the bright studio lights finally dimmed and the echo of applause faded into the quiet hum of backstage machinery, something softer and far more complicated settled into the air: the slow ache of realization, the bruising tenderness of endings, and the quiet unfolding of reflection that only comes when the chaos has finally ebbed away. For the eliminated celebrity, walking down the hallway away from the MasterChef kitchen felt like stepping out of one version of themselves and into another, the kind that is forged not in triumph but in vulnerability. Every footstep carried the weight of moments relived—every hesitation, every misjudgment, every flicker of doubt that had crept into their mind during the challenge. The chewy lamb, the critique that pierced deeper than expected, the judges’ sympathetic yet firm expressions—all of it played behind their eyes like a film on loop. Yet beneath the sting of disappointment, there was something else growing too: a quiet pulse of gratitude, maybe even pride, though still too faint to fully acknowledge.

The night stretched long, and time felt strange—thick in some moments, slipping quickly in others. The contestant sat alone for a while, hands wrapped around a cup of coffee gone cold, breathing in the silence that had replaced the frantic energy of the day. They thought about the bread they had baked during earlier challenges, the dishes that had earned praise, the sparks of creativity they didn’t know they were capable of igniting. They remembered the laughter with fellow contestants during breaks, the way the judges’ eyes lit up when a dish truly sang, the comforting solidarity formed among strangers who became something like family. It occurred to them now how rare such an experience was—how uniquely intense, how strangely beautiful, how profoundly human. Competition had stripped away the layers they hid behind in everyday life, revealing insecurities they had long ignored and strengths they hadn’t known they possessed.

The lamb, though, remained the center of their reflection. It was meant to be a dish that spoke of heritage and comfort, something drawn from childhood memories and Sunday gatherings. But in the pressure of the kitchen, memory had collided with fear. Their hands had hesitated when they should have acted decisively, their instincts drowned by the loud ticking of the clock. It wasn’t simply the texture that had failed—it was the moment itself. Yet as they sat with that truth, the contestant realized that cooking, like life, is as much about failure as it is about triumph. The chewy lamb wasn’t a symbol of inadequacy; it was a testament to trying, to risking something meaningful, to daring to place a piece of oneself on a plate.

Elsewhere, the remaining celebrities gathered quietly, each carrying their own emotional weight after the intense episode. There was relief, yes—relief at having survived another elimination, relief at having done just enough to stay in the competition. But there was also sadness for the one who had left, a shared understanding of how deeply each of them felt every critique, every success, every misstep. Standing together in the dim, empty kitchen, they glanced at the station where their friend had cooked earlier that day. It already looked identical to theirs—wiped clean, neatly arranged, as though no one had stood there with trembling hands and beating heart. The kitchen, impartial and indifferent, held no memory of the emotions poured into it. But they did.

As they eventually drifted away to rest, their thoughts carried them through what remained ahead. For them, the end was not yet near, but tonight had been a reminder of how quickly the tide could change. Tonight showed them that the line between staying and leaving was razor thin, that talent alone was never enough, that courage needed to be louder than fear. And they knew—more clearly than before—that tomorrow’s challenge would demand more: more precision, more creativity, more presence, more heart. This awareness sharpened them, pulled them taut with determination. But it also softened them, reminding them of their own fragility. MasterChef had a way of teaching both lessons at once.

Back in their hotel room, the eliminated contestant took in the quietness around them. They ran their fingers across the notes they had written during practice sessions, the sketches of plating ideas, the lists of ingredients that once filled them with excitement. They let themselves feel the loss fully—not because it defined them, but because acknowledging it allowed space for something else to grow. Their journey had ended sooner than they hoped, but it had not ended without purpose. In many ways, they realized, they were leaving with more than they arrived with. They now carried the knowledge of what it felt like to challenge themselves beyond comfort, to create under pressure, to be seen for who they were in moments of vulnerability and strength.

They thought of Greg’s warm encouragement, John’s thoughtful critiques, the way both judges had looked at them not with disappointment but with respect. They remembered the laughter shared after disastrous practice runs, the exhilaration of producing something beautiful, the adrenaline rush of presenting a finished plate. They remembered what it felt like to be brave.

As they closed their eyes, a strange but comforting thought settled over them: perhaps the real prize of MasterChef wasn’t the trophy at all. Perhaps it was the courage to keep cooking even when the world stopped watching.

The next morning brought clarity—not the sudden, cinematic kind, but the slow and gentle kind that arrives through acceptance. The eliminated contestant returned to the studio one last time for interviews. Producers greeted them warmly, fellow contestants embraced them, judges offered words of farewell that were sincere rather than perfunctory. They spoke about how far the contestant had come, how much they had grown, how their departure was not an ending but a beginning. And surprisingly, the contestant believed them.

They walked through the kitchen once more, this time with lighter steps. The stainless-steel counters gleamed under the bright lights, the utensils neatly lined up, the aprons hanging freshly washed and ironed. Everything was pristine, waiting for a new battle to unfold. And as they looked at the space where they had fought so hard—where they had doubted, overcome, stumbled, risen—they felt something unbreakable take root inside: a promise to themselves that they would not let this be the last chapter of their culinary journey. They had tasted the joy of creation, the thrill of surprising themselves, the power of feeding others. That was enough to carry them forward.

When they finally left the studio, stepping out into the sunlight, the world seemed strangely quieter, softer. They breathed deeply, feeling the crisp air fill their lungs. The future stretched before them—not a straight path, but a winding one full of possibilities. And for the first time since hearing the words “You’re going home,” they felt ready to meet it.

Meanwhile, inside the MasterChef kitchen, the remaining contestants gathered for their next challenge. But something had shifted in them. The elimination had reminded them not only of the stakes, but of why they were there in the first place. They cooked with more heart that day, with more awareness of the fragility of opportunity. They pushed themselves harder, not out of fear, but out of respect for the one who had left. And the judges, sensing the shift, pushed them even further. The atmosphere became electric—alive with ambition, compassion, and the raw, undeniable yearning to become better.

But while the kitchen buzzed with new energy, the eliminated contestant spent the afternoon responding to messages from friends, family, fans. Their phone buzzed endlessly with notifications: words of pride, of admiration, of inspiration. They read them slowly, absorbing each one. With every message, their disappointment softened into dignity. People had watched them grow. People had seen their heart. People had connected with their journey.

In the quiet moments between replies, they reflected on the deeper emotional journey they underwent. They realized that fear had often been their biggest obstacle in the competition—not lack of skill. Fear of over-seasoning. Fear of undercooking. Fear of misjudging. Fear of not being enough. And yet, even with fear whispering in their ear every time the clock began its relentless countdown, they had still stepped forward. They had still cooked. They had still tried. And trying—truly trying—was a kind of victory all its own.

As evening settled in, they prepared a meal for themselves—not something elaborate, not something intended to impress, but something comforting. The rhythmic chopping, the gentle simmering, the familiar scent rising from the pan brought them peace. Cooking, stripped of pressure and scrutiny, felt like home again. And as they tasted the finished dish, they smiled—not because it was perfect, but because it was theirs.

They realized then that food had always been a language of connection for them. It wasn’t about perfection. It was about presence. It was about offering a piece of themselves to others. And that truth—simple, profound—would guide them long after MasterChef.

That night, lying in bed, they closed their eyes and imagined the contestants still in the kitchen, pushing harder, reaching higher. They wished them well—not with envy, but with genuine hope. Because now they knew that leaving didn’t mean losing. It simply meant that their journey was continuing elsewhere.

In the days that followed, opportunities began to bloom unexpectedly. A cooking segment on a local show. Invitations to charity events. Messages from chefs who had watched the episode and admired their determination. The world, it seemed, had not closed its doors to them. It had opened new ones.

And as the memories of the chewy lamb softened into something almost fond, the contestant finally understood what their time on MasterChef had truly given them: not just skills or confidence, but a deeper connection to themselves. A recognition of their courage. A reminder that growth often comes from the moments that challenge us the most.

Months later, when they looked back on that day—the day they walked out of the MasterChef kitchen for the last time—they no longer felt sadness. Instead, they felt something like gratitude. Because endings, they realized, are not walls. They are doorways.

And theirs had only just opened.