‘Who’ll watch a show about cooking five nights a week?’

It’s an interesting question posed in Matt Preston’s memoirs, Big Mouth, and a question that without the advantage of hindsight (and 15 wildly successful seasons) must have been a tricky one to answer in the elevator pitch.

Of course, we now know the answer would be millions of people across Australia, but when the spark was still fanning into a flame back in 2009, things were not so clear.

Preston describes the initial reception to Masterchef Australia disparagingly: “as lukewarm as school milk left on a sunny step.” Execs wanted to know where the beauty queens or the ripped tradies were. Afterall, if you can’t smell or taste the food on your screen, what’s the point in a competition?

As we know now, and as Preston illustrates, it came down to personalities, big and small. Without the scowling of the Simon Cowells of the world or the expletive-laced screaming of Gordan Ramsay, we bore witness to the kind and supportive natures of the contestants and judges alike. 

Genuine critique of genuine people doing pretty remarkable things and we got to watch it all. We got to fall in love with contestants through their quiet struggles, we watched competitors give pointers to one another under the watchful eyes of the judges as something truly unique in the world of competitive tv came to life. 

We also fell in love with cooking as a collective. Curiosity about ingredients, chemistry, provenance and technique became as commonplace in the home cook as it was in first year apprentices.

Many in the industry refer to this pivotal moment as The MasterChef Effect. A distinct moment in time where the framework of competition television showed it could be kind, that judges didn’t have to tear down dreams like old wallpaper and that food wasn’t fuel, food was cool.

Big Mouth by Matt Preston is on sale November 7 through Penguin Publishing.
Order your copy here; penguin.com.au

Related story: Check out Matt Preston’s contributions and recipes here.