935 episodes in, what makes MasterChef Australia work still?

Contestants on MasterChef Australia Season 15, streaming on Disney+Hotstar in India. (Image source: Twitter/masterchefau)

Parathas, bananas, eggs and milk: this unlikely quartet of ingredients blended in a grey sludgy mess, was the staple breakfast of my boyhood friend, Aziz. At the family dining table, there was no idle chatter about letting the ingredients speak for themselves; they wrestled for attention in the blender. Having subjected his palate to this abuse, the last person I expected to hear from on the subject of serious cooking was Aziz. But there in my inbox, nestling coyly beside the Tyupkin virus, was an email from the man I played marbles with, while repressing a shudder at the contents of his lunch box. The burden of Aziz’s song was his slavelike devotion to MasterChef Australia, the reality cooking show: Dude, I’m hooked, this show is more addictive than crack.

Unlike American reality TV which takes perverse pride in being in-your-face, edgy and confrontational, MasterChef Australia is focused on talent, team spirit and a quality that is rarer than iridium: empathy. The judges aren’t cast in the potty-mouthed Gordon Ramsay mode, nor do they feel the need to flash their “cred” with snark and superciliousness. Instead, there’s respect for food from cultures that are culinarily evolved but are yet to get the recognition and renown they deserve due to Western ignorance. Think bacalao: salted cod from Portugal cooked with milk and potatoes or Bun Mam from Vietnam, an incredibly complex broth made using ma’m, aka fermented tench fish, enlivened with lemongrass, garlic and chilli, topped with prawns and gorgeous bits of crackling pork. The seafood and meat is balanced by generous toppings of fresh garlic chives, beansprouts, purple cabbage and chillis stuffed with, what else, fish paste. This is not a dish for the faint-hearted; the funk factor alone would cause a vegetarian to recoil in horror, but for those with a sense of adventure, this is a life-changing experience and a fabulous flavour bomb.

Until MasterChef came along, I remained immune to the slender charms of reality TV. Big Brother and Survivor leave me cold; watch a bunch of tedious imbeciles squabbling, complaining, moaning and scratching at their furry bits with exuberant exhibitionism and one wonders what sort of shelf-life this confected realism is going to have. For millennials struggling to find a reference, sitting through Uncle Mukesh’s slideshow after his “phoren” trip to Kuala Lumpur back in the ’90s was vastly more entertaining. There was laksa, satay and the dazzling array of Peranakan cuisine in-between reacting to his terrified smile on the glass bridge at Petronas Towers.

If one were to summarize MasterChef’s appeal in literary terms, perhaps magic realism would fit the bill best. Now in Season 15, that’s like as old as Jurassic Park in the TV business, and yet the show’s mojo is firing on all cylinders, despite the untimely passing of judge Jock Zonfrillo last month. Unlike other reality shows which pander to our lesser selves where our voyeurism is sated by kidults throwing tantrums, MasterChef Australia aspires to the highest common factor rather than the lowest common denominator. Of course, there’s drama, drum rolls and very gimmicky fireballs, but ultimately, it’s about talented amateurs honing their culinary skills in the presence of supreme professionals at an activity that is almost as primal as breathing. Teach a man to fish but then send him to culinary school or else the smell of rotting fish will become unbearable. Man cannot live on Zomato alone; unless one learns a few basic cooking skills, life can get pretty hard, not to mention, short.

MasterChef Australia judges Jock Zonfrillo and Andy Allen. (Image source: Twitter/masterchefau)

Endemol Shine, the production house behind the show for Network 10 have clearly brought their A game to this show, even if their building a bridge show had fewer takers. Just when one felt that the charm was wearing a little thin, they roped in Jamie Oliver who segued in a snappy segment which has three of the participants shadow the great man in real time to produce a rotolo, a dish virtually unknown outside of Italy. If you knew this is a large sheet of fresh pasta stuffed with seasoned spinach and feta, lightly steamed and served with a spicy tomato sauce, topped with crispy sage, go to the top of the class. Hang on, now try and make it alongside a hardcore professional who’s probably cooked the dish 3,000 times. Yes, MasterChef is rather like doing the Tour de France…except that you’re riding a tricycle.

Zonfrillo’s fellow judges, Andy Allen and Melissa Leong, are knowledgeable, very real and unlike their contemporaries in the fashion world, are good enough at what they do to refrain from putting on airs. What you see is what you get. In fact after a fairly spectacular cock up in the kitchen with the participant struggling to hold back tears of shame, Jock gently asks him, “Do you want me to be light and fluffy, or would you prefer clear and severe?” Without being preachy and obvious about it, MasterChef is a reality show which celebrates diversity, community, sharing and caring and yet, make no mistake, this is a full-on contest in which only the winner takes home $250,000.

Also read: 5 dishes from MasterChef Australia judge Jock Zonfrillo’s enduring culinary legacy