Nothing tastes better on television

I must begin this piece with a disclaimer. I don’t know my way around the kitchen. The only dish that I have ever been able to prepare with some success is a pasta with some sun-dried tomato pesto I bought off the shelf. All I had to do was boil the tortellini and stir. There really wasn’t much sweat involved. It thus came as a great surprise to my amused mother when she started returning home from work to find me glued to the television set every day, watching more than a dozen amateur chefs race against the clock to dish out their best preparations.

“Why do you watch this show?” I remember thinking that something greater was at stake when she asked me this. I remember needing to prove that a cooking show — which is how Masterchef Australia can be quintessentially described — made for more wholesome entertainment than anything else that existed in its genre. “I watch it because it’s a whole world of fun.” She frowned, but I had no further skills of articulation left. Were it not for my friends, the matter would have perhaps died a silent death and my latest fascination would have been consigned to a long litany of undecipherable obsessions. These friends — four grown men without any culinary finesse — started convening in our home every evening, sharing my guilty pleasure.

As my mother’s initial amusement gave way to an alarmed wonder of sorts, the rest of us were convinced — Masterchef Australia was one of the best things to have ever been on television in a very long while. Speaking in the strict recipe parlance that sometimes dictates the workings of the show, it had all the ingredients that make for perfect prime time. Food that looked delectable, contestants who were as varied as homemakers and film projectionists, a format that allowed for eliminations and crazy sprints around a kitchen, keeping that sense of suspense alive, and finally, a group of three judges, who were always helpful, affable and candid.

It soon dawned upon us that the concoction had worked. You could drop the name of a contestant and often enough that would be enough of a conversation starter with people you didn’t know too well. There were enough people huddling around their TVs, making this viewing experience an even greater collective event of sorts.

There could of course be theories as to why just two seasons of Masterchef have made it as popular. Visuals of carefully cooked food are of course appetising to watch, especially around dinner. At heart, it’s just an old school competition driven game show that makes over-cooked duck a cardinal sin. But in my estimation there’s something more to it than that. The reason why Masterchef works is because it cuts the melodrama out from the format. Even when there are tears, they seem strangely justifiable and are easily wiped. There isn’t any needless Gordon Ramsay-ish intimidation that distracts the amateur chefs from their task at hand — getting better at what they do.

When one watches spinoffs of the show such as Masterchef India, one can only giggle or balk at the histrionics of participants and judges alike. In Masterchef America, almost everyone seems to be in dire need of some relaxation and anger management. But Masterchef Australia seems to have monopolised even the calm advantage of peace. Last year, a group of the contestants were told that they were cooking for the Dalai Lama. With food gods such as Nigella Lawson and Anthony Bourdain already having made an appearance, it seemed like the only logical step up. Masterchef Australia is, in essence, a great televised blockbuster for all foodaholics and junkies.

As is the case with any perfect meal, the sweetest bits are saved for the last. In this case, I bring some information as dessert. The fourth season of Masterchef Australia is set to premiere on 13th June, but before that, the three friendly faces of the show’s judges will appear on Junior Masterchef Australia, which starts on 18th May at 9 pm on Star World. The participants in Junior Masterchef are all aged between 8 and 12. This might be terrible for me and my friends. Nothing more than a precocious masterchef of a child would be a better reminder of our inabilities.

Writes at DNA for a living. He may not be wise but he is a lover of wisdom