tag:theconversation.com,2011:/africa/topics/masterchef-3137/articlesMasterchef – The Conversation2022-04-14T05:19:08Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1698402022-04-14T05:19:08Z2022-04-14T05:19:08ZMore than just MasterChef: a brief history of Australian cookery competitions<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/456254/original/file-20220405-22-q2yaa.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=27%2C0%2C4517%2C3854&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Shutterstock</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Australians were involved in competitive cookery long before MasterChef. </p>
<p>The earliest of Australia’s cooking competitions were at agricultural shows. In 1910, the Royal Agricultural Society of NSW hosted its first competition for “perishable foods” at the Royal Easter Show. </p>
<p>Along with pastry and pickles, competitors could also be judged on their calf’s foot jelly. </p>
<p>By the 1920s, the cookery category at the Easter Show had been firmly established. It was purely the preserve of women. Men were prohibited from entering and wouldn’t be allowed to enter until after the second world war.</p>
<p>Women living in NSW and the ACT also entered their wares in the Country Women’s Association’s <a href="https://cwaofnsw.org.au/Web/Committees/The-Land-Cookery/Web/Committees/The-Land-Cookery.aspx?hkey=0892996d-3e2d-40e4-9738-68b313192c77">The Land Cookery Competition</a>. Starting in 1949, the competition judged women on their ability to bake classics such as fruit cake, butter cake and lamingtons, offering modest prize money to the winners. It is still running today.</p>
<p>These competitions are grounded in a history of cooking which saw women as “cooks” and men as “chefs”. Women were amateurs working in the home, while men worked in professional kitchens. This phenomenon <a href="https://theconversation.com/macho-kitchens-sludge-eating-techies-and-miracle-diets-how-did-food-get-so-tricky-54332">continues today</a>. </p>
<p>Cookery competitions allowed women to receive recognition for their often-overlooked hard work and skill. Contestants were encouraged to break out of their comfort zones, to be creative, innovate and impress. </p>
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<a href="https://theconversation.com/getting-creative-with-less-recipe-lessons-from-the-australian-womens-weekly-during-wartime-133792">Getting creative with less. Recipe lessons from the Australian Women's Weekly during wartime</a>
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<h2>Magazine cookery competitions</h2>
<p>With women as their key demographic, it is little wonder that, by the 1960s, women’s magazines such as the <a href="https://trove.nla.gov.au/collection/womensweekly/browse">Australian Women’s Weekly</a> began hosting large-scale cookery competitions open to readers around the country. </p>
<p>Perhaps the most extravagant of these competitions was the Butter-White Wings Bake-Off, which ran from 1963 to 1970. The competition pitted Australia’s best home bakers against each other in a variety of categories, including cakes, desserts, main courses and “busy lady recipes”.</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/456268/original/file-20220405-26-8coogk.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/456268/original/file-20220405-26-8coogk.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/456268/original/file-20220405-26-8coogk.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=471&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/456268/original/file-20220405-26-8coogk.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=471&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/456268/original/file-20220405-26-8coogk.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=471&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/456268/original/file-20220405-26-8coogk.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=591&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/456268/original/file-20220405-26-8coogk.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=591&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/456268/original/file-20220405-26-8coogk.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=591&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Australian Women’s Weekly, Wednesday 12 July 1967.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Trove</span></span>
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<p>Entering their written recipes, contestants competed at state level for a chance to win a trip to the national final where they would cook for illustrious judges. </p>
<p>Thousands competed at the state level of these competitions, and one from each state and territory would go on to the final. These were held in either Sydney or Melbourne in front of live audiences, usually in the middle of a department store.</p>
<p>The 1970 final was televised, with the Weekly estimating <a href="http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article45652547">two million viewers</a> would watch the proceedings. </p>
<p>It was Australia’s first televised cooking competition.</p>
<h2>Marketing and celebrities</h2>
<p>Just as MasterChef is sponsored by advertisers, the cookery competitions hosted in the Weekly proved to be lucrative marketing opportunities for a variety of sponsors. The prizes, provided by sponsors such as Breville and QANTAS, included cash, fur coats, appliances, cars and overseas holidays. </p>
<p>The choice of judges also offers us a glimpse of the glamour associated with the competitions as well as the continued gendered expectations surrounding cookery. A slew of early “celebrity chefs” were flown in from exotic, international destinations to judge the competition – including the Galloping Gourmet himself, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Graham_Kerr">Graham Kerr</a>. </p>
<p>These celebrity chefs judged the main course section; the overtly feminine baking sections were judged primarily by women. </p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/456270/original/file-20220405-12-2m2p9x.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/456270/original/file-20220405-12-2m2p9x.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/456270/original/file-20220405-12-2m2p9x.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=970&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/456270/original/file-20220405-12-2m2p9x.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=970&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/456270/original/file-20220405-12-2m2p9x.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=970&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/456270/original/file-20220405-12-2m2p9x.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1218&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/456270/original/file-20220405-12-2m2p9x.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1218&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/456270/original/file-20220405-12-2m2p9x.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1218&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Australian Women’s Weekly, Wednesday 23 October 1968.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Trove</span></span>
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<p>It was in the cake section that contestants really went above and beyond, both in the recipes themselves and in their names. In 1968, <a href="http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article46186768">prize-winning recipes</a> included “Golden Crown Dessert”, “Marshmallow-Cherry Cake”, “Chocolate Gold Layer Cake” and “Peach <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kuchen">Kuchen</a>”. </p>
<p>Peach Kuchen, which won the “Busy Lady” section, was made with a packet of White Wings cake mix, a tin of peaches and some sour cream. The Bake-Off helped to popularise (and sell!) boxed cake mixes: even the “busy woman” could create delicious cakes deserving of accolades.</p>
<h2>A dizzying progression</h2>
<p>The last Butter-White Wings Bake-Off was held in 1970, but the magazine kept hosting cooking competitions. In 1980, Elizabeth Love was crowned “Best Cook in Australia.”</p>
<p>Her <a href="http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article44795690">prize-winning menu</a> included oysters in pastry cases, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ballotine">ballotine</a> of duckling with baby vegetables and a red wine jus, mango sorbet and almond petits fours. </p>
<p>In a recent <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/radio/programs/nightlife/remembering-the-womens-weekly-cookbooks/13440234">interview</a>, Love reflected that her menu drew on the concepts of nouvelle cuisine, which was popular at the time. It was an ambitious menu for a home cook – however Love declared that she didn’t think it would do very well if she went on MasterChef today. </p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/456271/original/file-20220405-20-akdr7b.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/456271/original/file-20220405-20-akdr7b.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/456271/original/file-20220405-20-akdr7b.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=447&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/456271/original/file-20220405-20-akdr7b.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=447&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/456271/original/file-20220405-20-akdr7b.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=447&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/456271/original/file-20220405-20-akdr7b.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=561&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/456271/original/file-20220405-20-akdr7b.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=561&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/456271/original/file-20220405-20-akdr7b.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=561&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Australian cooking has come a long way – competitions are no longer for the busy home cook.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Shutterstock</span></span>
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<p>Her menu demonstrates the dizzying progression of Australian food over the past 40 years. </p>
<p>Cookery competitions like those held in the Weekly gradually disappeared, replaced instead by competitions on television, which have grown in popularity over the last two decades. </p>
<p>Like the magazine cookery competitions of the past, where contestants were inventive and used new and exciting ingredients, television competitions have also proved important for introducing the Australian palate to innovative cooking techniques and exotic ingredients.</p>
<p>Our ongoing fascination with cooking competition shows such as MasterChef reflects the prestige still on offer for those ambitious contestants who enter them, as well as the cultural importance of food. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/what-masterchef-teaches-us-about-food-and-the-food-industry-41893">What MasterChef teaches us about food and the food industry</a>
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<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Lauren Samuelsson received funding from an Australian Government Research Training Program Scholarship when undertaking this research.</span></em></p>From the Easter Show to the ‘busy lady’ competition in the Australian Women’s Weekly, we’ve been competitive cookers for over 100 years.Lauren Samuelsson, Honorary Fellow, University of WollongongLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1725962022-01-05T16:02:17Z2022-01-05T16:02:17ZA competitive cooking show puts a humble fermented rice dish on the global stage<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/436732/original/file-20211209-25-116pmlz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C6000%2C3997&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">A growing interest in fermented foods may direct people to a Bengali fermented rice dish.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">(Shutterstock)</span></span></figcaption></figure><iframe style="width: 100%; height: 175px; border: none; position: relative; z-index: 1;" allowtransparency="" src="https://narrations.ad-auris.com/widget/the-conversation-canada/a-competitive-cooking-show-puts-a-humble-fermented-rice-dish-on-the-global-stage" width="100%" height="400"></iframe>
<p>It was Kishwar Chowdhury, a competitor and second runner-up on the 13th season of <em>MasterChef Australia</em>, <a href="https://www.indiatimes.com/entertainment/originals/meet-kishwar-chowdhury-who-is-making-aloo-bhorta-panta-bhat-popular-in-masterchef-australia-544845.html">who made a dish called panta bhat internationally famous</a>. A rather humble dish from eastern India (Assam, Odisha and West Bengal) and Bangladesh, one could never have imagined it achieving such a level of critical acclaim.</p>
<p>Panta bhat is cooked parboiled rice that is soaked in cold water and left to ferment. Very often it’s left overnight, although some may even ferment it longer. The rice is then eaten with accompaniments that can vary depending on the economic condition of the family or the individual — ranging from basics like mustard oil, raw onion and green chillies to more elaborate sides like fried fish, batter-fried veggies and potatoes. </p>
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<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/mOc1QdNHHEw?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">How to make panta bhat.</span></figcaption>
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<h2>Fermenting in pond water</h2>
<p>Ten years ago, panta bhat was <a href="https://dx.doi.org/10.1155/2014/764530">associated with several cases of cholera</a>. The dish is a rural staple and popular breakfast in eastern India and Bangladesh, but the use of contaminated water in the preparation of the rice created the perfect conditions for the development of disease. </p>
<p>Using pond water in making panta bhat <a href="https://doi.org/10.3329/jhpn.v29i5.8895">had been a major cause of the disease</a>. There were several public health campaigns that were specifically designed to prevent the villagers from using pond water, but they were often ineffective. </p>
<p>Despite its role in causing cholera, the popularity of the dish never declined. It’s a cheap meal that needs no refrigeration. Further, one can cook the rice in a pot and soak the leftovers in the same pot. Finally, it is not only cheap and convenient, but also needs very little time to make.</p>
<p>The role of panta bhat is so central to Bengal that there is a popular folkloric figure called Panta Buri — “old woman who eats panta” — who has many adventures after a thief steals her panta bhat. In order to seek justice for the theft, she goes on a long journey to meet the king. On her way, she meets many eclectic characters like a talking knife, a catfish, a bael (a native fruit species) and an alligator. While the characters change in different versions, <a href="https://golpojuri.blogspot.com/2019/12/panta-buri-bangla-golpo.html">the context of her journey remains the same</a>. </p>
<p>Panta bhat is a dish that reflects the soul of rural Bengal. Yet the dish has now made it to a very popular television show, and feeds into the <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/lizzysaxe/2019/02/06/fermented-foods-are-up-149-percent-as-long-as-theyre-unfamiliar/">growing interest in fermented foods</a>. </p>
<p>Panta bhat is an acquired taste — a penchant for fermented rice is certainly not as widespread as, say, fried potatoes. Immigrant chefs are now pushing us towards bolder taste, a taste that is defiant, and not overshadowed by past colonial ambivalence. </p>
<h2>Acceptance through food</h2>
<p>Increasingly, immigrants have become unapologetic about their culinary roots. For example, British-Ghanaian chef Zoe Adjonyoh actively discusses issues like colonialism and racism that <a href="https://www.foodandwine.com/chefs/chef-zoe-adjonyoh-is-not-here-to-summarize-african-food-for-you">influence how traditional cuisines are perceived and accepted</a>. Nadiya Hussein became popular after winning the 2015 season of <em>The Great British Bake Off</em>, and helped <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2021/apr/18/nadiya-hussain-i-never-even-dreamed-of-being-a-part-of-all-this">popularize unique fusion foods through her writing and a series of television cooking shows</a>.</p>
<p>This interest in ethnic cuisines can also be seen in the growing number of food shows and documentaries like <a href="https://www.huffpost.com/entry/david-chang-ugly-delicious-asian-american-culture_n_5a85c109e4b0774f31d33120"><em>Ugly Delicious</em></a>, <a href="https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2021-05-20/this-netflix-series-gets-to-the-heart-of-black-american-food-culture"><em>High on the Hog</em></a>, <a href="https://time.com/5896336/china-us-food-flavorful-origins-netflix/"><em>Flavorful Origins</em></a> and many others that show a growing interest in the subject and a curiosity about authentic culinary storytelling. </p>
<p>We have a very long way to go when it comes to embracing versatile tastes from non-western cultures. In 2019, American national security affairs professor Tom Nichols felt the need to openly disparage Indian food on Twitter.</p>
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<p>While it sparked a major controversy, <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-50550735">Nichols’ tweet exposed the fault lines of racism that so frequently get expressed in belittling immigrant tastes</a>.</p>
<p>But there is hope, and a lot of curiosity. Instead of trying to alter and adjust their cuisine to existing western standards, young immigrant chefs are learning about their culinary past, and slowly trying to integrate their unique flavours into the growing world of global cuisine in very honest, authentic ways.</p>
<p>Let’s face it, fermented rice with strong mustard oil and spicy green chillies is like a bold, raw taste of defiance.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/172596/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Aditi Sen does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>A rice dish’s debut on a cooking competition show reflects the growing acceptance of ethnic foods.Aditi Sen, Assistant Professor, History, Queen's University, OntarioLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1456832020-09-21T23:38:21Z2020-09-21T23:38:21ZChannel Seven’s Plate of Origin shows how Australian multiculturalism is defined by white people<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/358538/original/file-20200917-22-tq0197.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C134%2C2048%2C1223&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Channel Seven</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>The grand final of Plate of Origin will air on on Channel Seven tonight. </p>
<p>Like other blockbuster cooking shows (think MasterChef, My Kitchen Rules), Plate of Origin is billed as a <a href="https://www.delicious.com.au/eat-out/article/plate-origin-2020-matt-preston-manu-feildel-gary-mehigan/xz3swdqt">celebration</a> of Australia’s multiculturalism — a rare example where other cultures are shown and discussed on mainstream TV.</p>
<p>But don’t be fooled. Plate of Origin provides a clear demonstration of how multiculturalism in Australia remains defined by white people.</p>
<h2>What is Plate of Origin?</h2>
<p><a href="https://7plus.com.au/plate-of-origin">The program</a> features ten teams cooking off against each other, based on national cuisines, in the “world cup of cooking”. It is described as both an “epic competition” and a “celebration of Australia”.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/why-celebrity-award-winning-chefs-are-usually-white-men-106709">Why celebrity, award-winning chefs are usually white men</a>
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<p>The teams include Team China, Team Lebanon, Team Vietnam, Team India and Team Greece. It is hosted by Gary Mehigan and Matt Preston of MasterChef fame, and Manu Feildel from My Kitchen Rules. </p>
<h2>What’s wrong with it?</h2>
<p>For a show that is all about different cuisines and cultures, the judges are three white men (two born in England, one in France). </p>
<p>While their <a href="https://www.delicious.com.au/eat-out/article/plate-origin-2020-matt-preston-manu-feildel-gary-mehigan/xz3swdqt">expertise in cooking</a> is undoubted, their position as judges reasserts the wisdom and virtue of white men. This when MasterChef ventured to have an Asian woman, <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2020/may/13/melissa-leong-masterchef-judge-2020-diversity-tabloids">Melissa Leong</a>, on its judging panel this year.</p>
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<p>A major issue with the way the show is constructed is the presence of a “Team Australia”. This is comprised of two white Australians —<a href="https://thewest.com.au/entertainment/tv/plate-of-origin-meet-team-australias-ethan-and-stew-and-team-frances-austine-and-leo-ng-b881637109z">Ethan and Stew</a> — who are “just two regular guys who like to cook”. Considering the show is about the teams cooking food from their heritage, then why not have a “Team United Kingdom” instead?</p>
<p>Having a “Team Australia” frames whiteness as normal and invisible, implying the other teams aren’t “real” Australians. </p>
<p>This idea was reinforced in episode six’s elimination task, where contestants had to prove themselves by adapting “<a href="https://7plus.com.au/plate-of-origin?episode-id=PLTE01-006">an Aussie classic - the pie!</a>”. This shows how other cultures can demonstrate their ethnicity, but must play by the rules set by white Australia. </p>
<p>There is no First Nations representation in the show at all. </p>
<h2>Food from a white perspective</h2>
<p>The program also makes assumptions about food from a white, European perspective. </p>
<p>As Team Cameroon noted in the lead up to a dessert challenge, “Africa, we don’t really do desserts”. This is similar to criticisms recently levelled at MasterChef, when it failed to understand Asian cuisine. For example, celebrity chef judge <a href="https://www.pedestrian.tv/entertainment/masterchef-episode-fine-dining-jock/">Jock Zonfrillo suggested</a> Asian ingredients did not “automatically lend themselves to a fine dining dish”. </p>
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<p>All this of course comes amid growing discomfort and anger about the lack of media diversity in Australia. </p>
<p>Recent Deakin University <a href="https://theconversation.com/whitewash-on-the-box-how-a-lack-of-diversity-on-australian-television-damages-us-all-143434">research showed</a> those on Australian television are overwhelmingly white. The research, which examined two weeks of programs, found more than 75% of presenters, commentators and reporters were of Anglo-Celtic background, compared to 58% of the population.</p>
<h2>Plate of Origin and Australian multiculturalism</h2>
<p>While Plate of Origin can be viewed for its (questionable) culinary or entertainment value, it also highlights ongoing issues with Australian multiculturalism.</p>
<p>It is a textbook example of what Australian anthropologist Ghassan Hage terms the “<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/178901.White_Nation">white nation fantasy</a>”. This argues multiculturalism and racial bigotry coexist in Australia. </p>
<p>For Hage, Australia’s version of multiculturalism demands mastery over People of Colour, as objects to be looked at, consumed and controlled.</p>
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<p>Its key figures are “<a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/ajph.12638?af=R">white multiculturalists</a>” who advocate tolerance and multiculturalism. But they also grant themselves the right to determine who is to be tolerated as part of the nation’s cultural and moral core.</p>
<p>According to Hage, Australians of colour need to “make themselves over as objects tolerable to white Australians”. </p>
<p>One of the main ways in which this is done is through what Hage terms a “multicultural exhibition”, in which minority groups are paraded for the benefit of white audiences. </p>
<p>For example, <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1068/a33168">multicultural festivals</a> and museum displays are prone to displaying a collection of migrant cultures as separate from Anglo-Celtic Australia and can trivialise issues of social inequality.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/we-know-racism-and-recessions-go-together-australia-must-prepare-to-stop-a-racism-spike-here-138215">We know racism and recessions go together. Australia must prepare to stop a racism spike here</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>So, Plate of Origin helps us understand why multicultural Australia celebrates the presence of People of Colour when they know their place, which is to say it does not really celebrate them at all. </p>
<p>First Nations Australians can be adored as <a href="https://theconversation.com/freeman-review-documentary-relives-the-time-cathy-freeman-flew-carrying-the-weight-of-the-nation-145692">athletes</a> and <a href="https://www.smh.com.au/culture/art-and-design/and-the-packing-room-prize-winner-is-20200916-p55wcw.html">artists</a>, but far less so as <a href="https://theconversation.com/instead-of-demonising-black-lives-matter-protesters-leaders-must-act-on-their-calls-for-racial-justice-143269">protesters</a>. That is, they should not disturb how “mainstream Australians” envisage themselves.</p>
<p>Plate of Origin also helps us to understand why so many areas of leadership in Australia, including <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-11-02/asian-australians-struggling-to-break-bamboo-ceiling/11665288">law</a>, <a href="https://www.sbs.com.au/topics/life/feature/battle-bamboo-ceiling">business</a> and <a href="https://www.sbs.com.au/news/australia-s-new-parliament-is-no-more-multicultural-than-the-last-one">federal parliament</a>, remain largely white.</p>
<h2>Not ‘just a TV show’</h2>
<p>It’s heartening to see Plate of Origin is not proving to be a ratings winner or <a href="https://www.smh.com.au/culture/tv-and-radio/oh-poo-plate-misses-opportunity-to-serve-something-truly-original-20200831-p55qy6.html">critics’ favourite</a>. </p>
<p><div data-react-class="InstagramEmbed" data-react-props="{"url":"https://www.instagram.com/p/CEk40J4B4m-/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link","accessToken":"127105130696839|b4b75090c9688d81dfd245afe6052f20"}"></div></p>
<p>In its second week, ratings fell to from <a href="https://tvtonight.com.au/2020/08/sunday-30-august-2020.html">667,000</a> to just <a href="https://tvtonight.com.au/2020/09/tuesday-8-september-2020.html">382,000</a>. The program’s final episodes are now being <a href="https://tvblackbox.com.au/page/2020/09/14/seven-flushes-away-the-final-2-episodes-of-poo-in-an-epic-3-hour-event/">rushed out together</a> to finish off the season. </p>
<p>Nevertheless, the program is still being aired on a major network in a prime time slot - and still being viewed by <a href="https://tvtonight.com.au/2020/09/tuesday-15-september-2020.html">hundreds of thousands</a> of people each week. </p>
<p>What is shown on our TV screens matters. It is a reflection of how we think about our community. Hopefully the next time a program tries to “celebrate” Australia’s multiculturalism, it does so in a much more thoughtful way.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/145683/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>The latest prime time cooking show is supposed to be a celebration of different cultures. So why does it include a “Team Australia?”Blair Williams, Associate Lecturer, School of Political Science and International Relations, Australian National UniversityKim Huynh, ANU Senior LecturerLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1060152018-10-31T13:32:25Z2018-10-31T13:32:25ZVegans: why they inspire fear and loathing among meat eaters<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/243218/original/file-20181031-76416-1cqrumk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Pinkyone via Shutterstock</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Food critic William Sitwell has resigned as editor of Waitrose’s in-house magazine following a row over his <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-46024087">astonishingly hostile response</a> to a freelance journalist who proposed a series of articles on veganism.</p>
<p>A <a href="https://waitrosecare.secure.force.com/waitroseCARE/articles/FAQs/Waitrose-Partners-Food-Magazine-Statement/?l=en_US&c=External_Support_Articles:Trading_Policy_Statements&fs=Search&pn=1">statement</a> from the food retailer said that John Brown Media – which produces the Waitrose & Partners Food Magazine – had announced Sitwell would step down as editor of Waitrose & Partners Food magazine with immediate effect. The statement added: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>In the light of William’s recent email remarks, we’ve told John Brown Media that we believe this is the right and proper move - we will be working with them to appoint a new editor for the magazine. We have had a relationship with William for almost 20 years and are grateful for his contribution to our business over that time.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The row erupted after freelance journalist Selene Nelson pitched a series on “plant-based recipes” to the magazine, given the <a href="https://www.vegansociety.com/news/media/statistics">rise in popularity</a> of vegan products in recent years. Waitrose, like many UK supermarkets, has <a href="https://www.plantbasednews.org/post/waitrose-to-launch-new-vegan-section-and-products">recently expanded</a> its vegan product range and, as <a href="https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/dumplings-and-vegan-double-acts-the-foodie-trends-of-2018-d6bdmrxgj">Sitwell’s own article</a> in The Times in January 2018 noted – in less than welcoming terms – the number of vegan cookbooks available has also grown considerably.</p>
<p>So Nelson’s proposal seemed pitch-perfect. Sitwell’s response, however, was decidedly off-key: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>How about a series on killing vegans, one by one. Ways to trap them? How to interrogate them properly? Expose their hypocrisy? Force-feed them meat? Make them eat steak and drink red wine?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>As veganism is ever more routinely encountered in daily life, hackneyed media stereotypes of vegans no longer resonate as they once did. Anti-vegan media hostility isn’t anything new. <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/21361905">Sociological research published in 2011</a> documented how UK newspapers discredit veganism through ridicule, with vegans variously stereotyped as angry, militant, self-denying, sentimental, faddy, or joyless. As <a href="https://veganuary.com/blog/a-record-breaking-veganuary-2018/">more people try veganism</a>, meet vegans and encounter vegan-friendly products and practices in daily life, the more tone deaf these stereotypes sound.</p>
<p>Sitwell’s vitriol contrasts markedly with the polite restraint of Nelson’s rejoinder, in which she ironically expressed interest “in exploring why just the mention of veganism seems to make some people so hostile”. The exchange is arguably emblematic of the contemporary plague of entitled anger that toxifies public discourse whenever entitlement is challenged, however politely.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/243209/original/file-20181031-76399-14awru8.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/243209/original/file-20181031-76399-14awru8.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/243209/original/file-20181031-76399-14awru8.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/243209/original/file-20181031-76399-14awru8.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/243209/original/file-20181031-76399-14awru8.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/243209/original/file-20181031-76399-14awru8.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/243209/original/file-20181031-76399-14awru8.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">William Sitwell (c) and his fellow judges Grace Dent (l) and Tracey Macleod (r) on Masterchef the Professionals.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">BBC/Shine TV Ltd</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>Guilty conscience?</h2>
<p>One aspect of threatened entitlement in a non-vegan society is the presumed right to consume the bodies of other animals. In that context, <a href="https://www.bloomsbury.com/us/living-among-meat-eaters-9780826415530/">research has suggested</a> that vegans prompt defensiveness among non-vegans by implying a failure to act on a moral issue. Unresolved guilt plays out along a continuum ranging from framing one’s non-vegan practices as “moderate” (“I don’t eat much meat”) to anger and hostility towards vegans (rhetorically shooting the messenger, the way Sitwell appears to have done). The range, style and tone of these <a href="https://seanbonner.tumblr.com/post/252364222/defensive-omnivore-bingo">defensive responses</a> are wearyingly familiar to vegans.</p>
<p>Food practices are socially powerful markers of social and cultural identity, making actual or implied criticism of them personally and hurtfully felt. Meat-eating in particular has been closely implicated in the <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0195666315003025">construction of masculine identity</a>. Challenging the dominance of non-vegan practices threatens those social and cultural identities that are most closely dependent upon them.</p>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"1057029351403913218"}"></div></p>
<h2>Poor taste</h2>
<p>Criticism of Sitwell’s email led to the wheeling out of a stereotype of vegan <a href="https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2018/10/29/waitrose-magazine-editor-causes-outrage-joking-killing-vegans/">humourlessness</a>. We have written <a href="https://academic.oup.com/isle/article/24/4/767/4795356">elsewhere</a> about how humour is used in popular culture to retrench oppressive power relations. Framing the expression of oppressive power relations as “humour” attempts to insulate it against critique, but we should remain alert to the potency and power dynamics of such “jokes”.</p>
<p>Sitwell’s own initial apology denied the ethical basis of veganism itself: “I love and respect people of all appetites, be they vegan, vegetarian or meat eaters – which I show week in week out through my writing, editing and broadcasting.” Veganism here is reduced to a taste preference, or consumer disposition – just one dietary option among several – rather than an ethical imperative directed towards eliminating the human exploitation of other animals.</p>
<p>In his initial response, Sitwell says his previous “good behaviour” is evidence that this recent episode is not representative of his attitude and he apologises for offence taken by others, rather than his offensive action. But in doing this, he refuses to take responsibility for his own behaviour. Moreover, it provides a textbook example of a victim-blaming non-apology, in this case by using yet another anti-vegan stereotype – over-sensitivity: “I apologise profusely to anyone who has been offended or upset by this.” Vegans (the unspecified “anyone”) are implicitly primed to take offence, while Sitwell’s own actions are rhetorically positioned as intrinsically innocent (as “innocent” as a “joke”).</p>
<p>The joke has cost Sitwell his editing job. But his outburst has at least opened up the opportunity for some more honest discussion about why veganism, like many other progressive social movements, stimulates such aggressive responses. </p>
<hr>
<p><em>More articles about <a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/topics/veganism-25812?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKengagement&utm_content=Diet">vegetarianism and veganism</a>, written by academic experts:</em></p>
<ul>
<li><p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/vegan-diet-how-your-body-changes-from-day-one-100413?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKengagement&utm_content=Diet">Vegan diet: how your body changes from day one</a></em></p></li>
<li><p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/why-arent-more-people-vegetarian-58367?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKengagement&utm_content=Diet">Why aren’t more people vegetarian?</a></em></p></li>
<li><p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/eating-less-meat-is-a-climate-priority-whatever-the-sceptics-say-105884?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKengagement&utm_content=Diet">Eating less meat is a climate priority, whatever the sceptics say</a></em></p></li>
</ul>
<p><em>For more evidence-based articles by academics, subscribe to our <a href="https://confirmsubscription.com/h/r/6F561B763B91E4C7?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKengagement&utm_content=Diet">newsletter</a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/106015/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Kate Stewart is affiliated with The Vegan Society as a life member.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Matthew Cole is affiliated with The Vegan Society as a life member and volunteer. </span></em></p>No matter the time of the year, it’s always open season on veganism.Kate Stewart, Principal Lecturer in Sociology, Nottingham Trent UniversityMatthew Cole, Associate Lecturer, The Open UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/949172018-04-12T12:13:54Z2018-04-12T12:13:54ZMasterchef row puts chicken rendang and nasi lemak at the top of the menu<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/214468/original/file-20180412-543-110hrvl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/download/success?src=ysvk0ult5Y4_c16ewPbz8Q-1-0">AngieYeoh via Shutterstock</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>Masterchef judges John Torode and Greg Wallace were no doubt shocked at the depth of feeling on display when their <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2018/apr/03/i-would-rendang-his-head-uk-masterchef-judges-stir-up-a-storm">decision to eliminate a contestant</a> because the skin on her chicken rendang was not crispy enough was greeted with howls of dismay from the people of two countries.</p>
<p>Malaysians and Indonesians have long been divided on the provenance of chicken rendang. But they were united in their disdain for the Masterchef judges’ decision to kick out Malaysian contestant Zaleha Kadir Olpin for cooking the chicken, with soft skin, which was served as part of the iconic rice dish nasi lemak.</p>
<p>“I like the rendang flavour, there’s a coconut sweetness, however, the chicken skin isn’t crispy. It can’t be eaten and all the sauce is on the skin, I can’t eat,” Wallace said at the time as Torode nodded his agreement.</p>
<p>Cue uproar: Twitter exploded with complaints from angry Malaysians and Indonesians who felt the two judges had displayed their profound ignorance about what both countries consider to be national dishes. The row even drew in the Malaysian prime minister, Najib Razak who tweeted: “Who eats ‘crispy’ chicken rendang?”</p>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"981088874523848704"}"></div></p>
<h2>Matter of taste</h2>
<p>So what’s all the fuss about? What exactly are these two dishes and where do they come from? </p>
<p>Once a month, on my drive out to Semenyih, about 20 miles south of Kuala Lumpur, to teach at the <a href="https://www.nottingham.edu.my/index.aspx">University of Nottingham Malaysia</a>, I would stop over in Kajang at a Malay restaurant for a nasi lemak breakfast. It was a guilty stop because the coconut-coated rice was not just creamy and fattening – indeed the Malay word <em><a href="https://guide.michelin.sg/en/what-is-lemak">lemak</a></em> has connotations implying rich and creamy – but also because of the tempting buffet spread of condiments and dishes that accompanied the rice. </p>
<p>This spanned the usual crunchy anchovies and roasted peanuts, sliced cucumber, sweetish chilli sambal, fried egg, hard-boiled egg and numerous types of fried fish, cockles or cuttlefish sambal, beef rendang, deep-fried chicken, red chilli chicken (<em>sambal masak merah</em>), fried long beans, tempeh – the list goes on. </p>
<p>This lavish spread is a result of the rise of middle-class consumption beginning from the 1990s. Back in the 1970s, the nasi lemak was a poor man’s full breakfast at an affordable 30 to 50 cents per packet. Within the folded banana leaf you would find coconut rice, a sliver of cucumber, a quarter of a hard-boiled egg, a teaspoon of chilli sambal and a tablespoon of peanuts and anchovies. An added luxury might be a piece of fried fish – the smallest kind there was in the market (too small to sell anyone, really) – or one or two small tamarind-marinated prawns. Fried chicken, beef rendang or its faster-cooking healthier alternative, chicken rendang, came much later. </p>
<p>So with its combination of carbohydrates, protein and minerals, the nasi lemak may be regarded as a well-balanced meal for the farmer and the fisherman. It is then commonly accepted and adopted to be the national dish by Malaysians of Chinese and Indian descent, as rice is still the common staple across cultures.</p>
<h2>Regional specialities</h2>
<p>Rendang has <a href="https://kwgls.wordpress.com/2015/01/06/a-dish-that-existed-in-the-15th-century-or-earlierrendang-ayam-%E9%A9%AC%E6%9D%A5%E4%BB%81%E5%BD%93%E9%B8%A1%EF%BC%89/">its own proud history</a> as a dry spicy beef dish originally from <a href="http://www.indonesia-tourism.com/west-sumatra/padang.html">Padang, West Sumatra</a> in Indonesia that is cooked with chillies, galangal, ginger, garlic, shallots, lemongrass and coconut milk. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/214472/original/file-20180412-549-ntoqrg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/214472/original/file-20180412-549-ntoqrg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/214472/original/file-20180412-549-ntoqrg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/214472/original/file-20180412-549-ntoqrg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/214472/original/file-20180412-549-ntoqrg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/214472/original/file-20180412-549-ntoqrg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/214472/original/file-20180412-549-ntoqrg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Malay-Indonesian curry, beef rendang.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/download/success?src=DCcSTGwJnfnwPfiX2oT_Fg-1-7">Paul_Brighton via Shutterstock</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>When Minang migrants from Indonesia came to settle in Malaya, they brought their recipe and over the decades, there has been enough innovation, adaptation and customisation, as well as variation, that each state in Malaysia is said to have its own rendang: Rendang Tok in Perak, Rendang Sri Nabon (Bugis-style) in Johor, and so on. </p>
<p>Including a thickener, <em><a href="https://www.rotinrice.com/kerisik-pounded-toasted-coconut/">kerisik</a></em>, a sort of coconut paste loosely described as “coconut butter”, is the Malaysian claim to innovation. The spice mixture in the rendang helps make the meat flavourful – and was used to preserve it during the pre-refrigeration era. The dish is stirred constantly and let to simmer until the meat softens and the coconut-textured gravy dries up into a dark red aromatic curry that coats tender meat. Suffice it to say if there is skin over the chicken it would most definitely not be crispy by this end stage.</p>
<h2>Festive favourite</h2>
<p>In the past rendang was cooked and served only during festivities as beef was considered a luxury. Today, rendang is on the daily menu. Chicken is the preferred choice of meat in rendang as it is cheaper and not taboo to Hindus and Kuan Yin (Chinese) devotees in Malaysia who cannot eat beef.</p>
<p>Rendang is also iconic for non-Malay Malaysians who associate it with the halcyon Open House invitations to Malay friends’ houses as part of the end of Ramadan celebrations where such food becomes a symbol of eating together and a national glue for a multicultural society.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/RX7siurqvSc?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>This explains why rendang-gate has Malaysians of all ethnicities up in arms defending their culture.</p>
<p>Outside of London, Malaysian cuisine is neither as popular nor as well known as Thai food – which is an irony considering that at least two Malaysian contestants have made it into the shortlist of UK Masterchef – and <a href="https://www.thestar.com.my/lifestyle/food/features/2014/05/17/ipohborn-wins-masterchef-uk-with-nasi-lemak-wanton-soup/">Catherine Chin Wang Ping Coombes</a> even won in 2014 with none other than: the nasi lemak.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/94917/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Gaik Cheng Khoo does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>It was more than a storm in a teacup when the judges of UK Masterchef displayed their ignorance about South-East Asian food.Gaik Cheng Khoo, Associate Professor, Faculty of Arts, University of NottinghamLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/634122016-09-06T05:28:22Z2016-09-06T05:28:22ZYou can’t eat with us! When the working class meet high-end cooking shows<p>Like many reality TV fans, I get caught up in the drama of competitive shows such as MasterChef Australia and more recently, Adriano Zumbo’s Just Desserts. Audiences are given plenty of time over the course of each series to pick a favourite contestant. </p>
<p>We learn about their <a href="http://tenplay.com.au/channel-ten/masterchef/contestants">personal lives</a>, their desire to succeed or how food is linked to memories of cherished family members. We become invested in our favourites and cry with them when they are eliminated or suffer <a href="https://au.tv.yahoo.com/shows/zumbos-just-desserts/video/watch/32482374/bittersweet-farewell-michael/#page1">emotional setbacks</a>.</p>
<p>A favourite trope of these shows is the underdog contestant: amateur cooks who are self-taught, sometimes working as low-paid restaurant waitstaff. There’s an implication that regular, ordinary people of all cultural backgrounds (the great Australian “battlers”) can become contestants and pursue their dreams. All that’s required is hard work, determination and a love of food. </p>
<p>It’s <a href="http://theconversation.com/masterchef-a-dash-of-free-market-with-a-pinch-of-salt-1237">neoliberalism</a> on a plate. (Although the cover was blown for one contestant on Just Desserts when it was revealed he once owned a <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/tv-and-radio/reality/zumbos-just-desserts-amateur-contestant-ashley-glasic-ran-popular-pastry-cafe-20160901-gr6jic.html">successful cake shop</a>).</p>
<p>Shouldn’t these opportunities for battlers (aka working-class people) to participate in high-end food culture be celebrated? After all, why can’t working-class people become <a href="http://journal.media-culture.org.au/index.php/mcjournal/article/view/761">foodies</a>? </p>
<p>Many working-class people have great cooks in their families. Cooks who can make delicious, nutritious meals with ingredients that are beaten, whipped, creamed and ground by hand. Haven’t MasterChef and Just Desserts introduced local audiences to the world of bavarois, espuma and mille-feuille? Surely this is a way to accumulate <a href="http://theconversation.com/what-masterchef-teaches-us-about-food-and-the-food-industry-41893">cultural capital</a> via the television? </p>
<p>As someone with a working-class background (who still identifies as working class despite my position as an academic), I am fascinated and somewhat disturbed by MasterChef and Just Desserts. I like to see working-class people on television. </p>
<p>I am impressed by people who seek an education (regardless of the field). Working-class communities have always had autodidacts who find ways to learn. Chefs have come from working-class families. </p>
<p>But what kind of world is on display in these shows, and how does the average working-class person fit into it? I’d suggest that generally they don’t. Cooking shows only create an illusion of inclusivity (in terms of class). The majority of working-class viewers will not have access to the world represented in the shows.</p>
<p>This world requires the economic capital to buy expensive ingredients, to dine in fancy restaurants, to go on food tours around the country and overseas. Then, there’s pricey equipment to purchase. </p>
<p>There would be few working-class households with access to top-of-the-range blenders, ice-cream makers and pressure cookers, let alone liquid nitrogen and industrial blast chillers. </p>
<p>Time is needed to prepare elaborate meals and indulgent desserts. Autodidacts aside, cultural capital is required to know how to choose wine, or understand the techniques that come from French cuisine and pâtisserie. While the average punter might now know what a <a href="http://tenplay.com.au/channel-ten/masterchef/recipes/pan-roasted-and-confit-quail-pumpkin-carrot-and-mandarin">confit quail</a> leg is, how many working-class Australians eat quail on a regular basis?</p>
<p>There are other issues with what goes on behind the scenes. Who cleans up once the cameras stop rolling? Do the contestants do the dishes? Mop the floors? Tidy up the kitchens and empty the garbage? There must be an army of cleaners – what are they paid, and what sort of working conditions do they have? </p>
<p>Where do the ingredients come from, and are the workers who harvest and process them being paid properly? Do MasterChef and Just Desserts insist that all elements of their supply chain are operated ethically? </p>
<p>Workers at a Coles distribution centre in Victoria were <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-07-27/food-distribution-centre-workers-strike-over-pay-job-security/7663918">striking</a> recently over pay and conditions. Coles is a sponsor of MasterChef and their ads featured heavily during the breaks but is the audience aware of the lack of job security at their food depots? </p>
<p>Just Desserts uses an old industrial <a href="http://www.maitlandmercury.com.au/story/4006579/walka-backdrop-for-tv-baking-show-video/">building</a> and a faux factory design for their set – are industrial issues a consideration for the producers?</p>
<p>Ultimately, the contestants hope to open their own restaurants and cafes, or join famous kitchens and work as professional chefs. The shows provide an opportunity to bypass the <a href="http://www.theaustralian.com.au/life/food-wine/reality-bites-shortage-of-chefs-hits-restaurant-industry-growth/news-story/7f5af83c6b0b830d55ef28b74f2ec059">usual route</a> to becoming a chef, which normally involves training and low-paid apprenticeships for a number of years. A trainee chef will need capital to pay for their education and to acquire the necessary equipment.</p>
<p>For a young working-class person from a low-income family this involves financial risk with no guarantee of success. Starting a business, such as a restaurant, requires large amounts of financial capital. Are young working-class viewers more likely to end up cleaning the set of Just Desserts than owning their own patisserie?</p>
<p>Shows such as MasterChef and Just Desserts create an illusion of equality. Anyone can be a top celebrity chef, or at least learn how to cook like one. But the whole premise of these shows, and the concept of the celebrity chef, is built on inequality.</p>
<p>Despite the possibility that a working-class contestant might actually win, the majority of working-class viewers will continue to be the ones growing, harvesting, processing, packaging, delivering and selling the products to be turned into <a href="http://tenplay.com.au/channel-ten/masterchef/recipes/verjus-in-egg#_">92-step dishes</a> that are out of financial reach for aspirational working-class viewers.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/63412/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Sarah Attfield does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Cooking shows like Zumbo’s Just Desserts tout their self-taught, working-class contestants. But most of their audience is more likely to be cleaning the set than blast-chilling a croquembouche.Sarah Attfield, Scholarly Teaching Fellow, Communications, University of Technology SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/418932015-05-21T00:52:10Z2015-05-21T00:52:10ZWhat MasterChef teaches us about food and the food industry<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/82353/original/image-20150520-17654-1ecghvq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">After recent lacklustre ratings MasterChef is back with a bang – so what's the secret? </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">MasterChef/Network Ten</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>The MasterChef juggernaut of old appears to have roared back to life with its seventh season debut earlier this month delivering an <a href="http://mumbrella.com.au/reality-tv-winter-schedule-masterchef-reno-rumble-house-rules-seven-nine-ten-simulcasting-debut-head-to-head-291814">audience share win</a> for Network Ten for that Tuesday night. </p>
<p>After recent lacklustre ratings – the result of misjudged gimmicks like 2013’s “boys versus girls” <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/04/24/masterchef-australia-ad-sexism_n_3147539.html">controversy</a>, and a brand fatigued by too many spin-offs – MasterChef: The Professionals, Junior MasterChef and MasterChef All-Stars — the franchise’s <a href="http://www.heraldsun.com.au/entertainment/adam-liaw-wins-masterchef/story-e6frf96f-1225896768291">record-breaking days</a> looked all but over.</p>
<p>But just when the jewel in Network Ten’s crown seemed dull and tarnished, the seventh iteration of show is back on form, enjoying <a href="http://mumbrella.com.au/reality-tv-winter-schedule-masterchef-reno-rumble-house-rules-seven-nine-ten-simulcasting-debut-head-to-head-291814">viewership around the 1 million mark</a>, ahead of reality rivals <a href="http://www.9jumpin.com.au/show/reno-rumble/">Reno Rumble</a> on Nine and <a href="https://au.tv.yahoo.com/house-rules/#page1">House Rules</a> on Seven.</p>
<p>The producers tell us this is because of a <a href="http://mumbrella.com.au/masterchef-2015-ordinary-people-extraordinary-food-279961">“back to basics” approach</a> in which there’s less interest in conflict between contestants or their tales of personal hardship and more in their food and cooking.</p>
<p>As a result, we have seen some of the most visually impressive dishes ever presented on MasterChef, such as Marcus’ <a href="http://tenplay.com.au/channel-ten/masterchef/recipes/the-golden-egg">Golden Egg</a> audition dish, and Reynold’s <a href="http://tenplay.com.au/channel-ten/masterchef/recipes/the-forbidden-fruit">Forbidden Fruit</a> dessert.</p>
<p>But while this renewed focus on the food has almost certainly saved an ailing franchise, the fact that it has been so popular is a reflection of the increasing sophistication in the culinary desires of Australians — desires that have been in no small part created by MasterChef’s extraordinary influence.</p>
<p>MasterChef has had a notable impact on the <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/tv-and-radio/the-masterchef-effect-20100722-10lsg.html">eating, cooking and shopping habits</a> of Australians.</p>
<p>It has encouraged us to try new ingredients and new techniques and to buy more kitchen gadgets.</p>
<p>Techniques such as <em>sous vide</em>, tempering chocolate, quenelling and making ice cream have entered the culinary repertoire of “ordinary” cooks thanks to the MasterChef effect.</p>
<p>Three-hatted chefs such as <a href="http://www.vuedemonde.com.au/shannon_bennett_biography">Shannon Bennett</a> and <a href="http://mattmoran.com.au/">Matt Moran</a> – people who once would have been recognisable only to an elite group of customers who could afford to eat at their (very expensive) restaurants – are now household names thanks to the show.</p>
<p>Isabelle de Solier <a href="http://www.arts.adelaide.edu.au/centrefooddrink/papers/de.solier.pdf">has described</a> the skills and cultural knowledge that audiences learn from television shows like MasterChef, as “culinary cultural capital” – the ability to read and understand the cultural codes surrounding food.</p>
<p>Rather than simply teaching us how to cook, MasterChef teaches us about a food culture that was previously untouchable without a great deal of economic and cultural capital. And it is making that cultural capital more accessible for the wider population.</p>
<p><a href="http://journal.media-culture.org.au/index.php/mcjournal/article/viewArticle/761">Research</a> of one of your current authors (Katherine) conducted in 2013 showed how MasterChef had become a vehicle for ordinary people to discover new chefs and restaurants. For example, people travel to Adriano Zumbo’s shop after seeing him on MasterChef in order to try his macarons and see “what everyone’s talking about”.</p>
<p>This year’s MasterChef contestants, with their restaurant-style plating and their knowledge of high-end restaurant chefs, are much like the people Katherine discovered in her research.</p>
<p>Such contestants have not simply been “discovered” by MasterChef: they are a product of it.</p>
<p>Their views on the desirability of a career in the food industry are in many cases a result of the show’s glamorous representation of chefs and the restaurant business, the realities of which are frequently not as they appear on TV.</p>
<p>Unlike rival cooking shows like My Kitchen Rules, where a food industry career is not necessarily a goal of contestants, contestants on MasterChef must come with the “dream” of working with food.</p>
<p>In a PR exercise for an industry with a shocking reputation for long hours, low pay, <a href="http://theweek.com/articles/456436/why-sexism-persists-culinary-world">sexism</a>, and high rates of <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2013-11-25/stressed-chefs-turning-to-drink/5115116">alcoholism and substance abuse</a>, MasterChef offers both contestants and audiences a view of the food industry in which the prospect of a culinary career is positioned as an enticing dream, rather than a difficult pathway.</p>
<p>Contestants such as Reynold and Kha persist with their “food dream” despite the wishes of their families. <a href="http://tenplay.com.au/channel-ten/masterchef/contestants/reynold-poernomo">Reynold’s family</a>, who own Sydney patisserie Artplate, “didn’t want their youngest son to pursue a career in the industry, knowing it can be tough”.</p>
<p>And Kha, despite being recently eliminated from the competition, has secured his “<a href="http://www.news.com.au/entertainment/tv/masterchef-elimination-kha-nguyen-lands-dream-job-at-chapel-street-restaurant-tokyo-tina-after-getting-boot-from-show/story-fn8yvfst-1227355334627">dream job</a>” at a Melbourne restaurant.</p>
<p>So while MasterChef might teach us a lot about food and food trends, it also glosses over some of the harsher realities of the industry that produces this food. The unsociable work hours, the bullying, the heat – this is not part of the culinary cultural capital that we learn from MasterChef.</p>
<p>MasterChef offers contestants and viewers a taste of the cooking techniques and presentation style of the restaurant industry, and presents these to us in ways that make them seem both aspirational and desirable. </p>
<p>This has given MasterChef the ratings boost it so desperately needed, but it has done this without engaging with the realities of the industry that the show is essentially promoting.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/41893/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Michelle Phillipov receives funding from the Australian Research Council, Discovery Early Career Researcher Award (DE140101412).</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Katherine Kirkwood does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>While MasterChef might teach us a lot about food and food trends, it also glosses over some of the harsher realities of the industry that produces this food. What’s the secret to its sudden ratings boost?Katherine Kirkwood, PhD Candidate, Queensland University of TechnologyMichelle Phillipov, Senior Lecturer, Journalism, Media and Communications, University of TasmaniaLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/262062014-05-06T05:18:48Z2014-05-06T05:18:48ZHold that cod – the North Sea fish controversy isn’t over yet<p>Pity the poor consumer who wants to make informed decisions about eating cod. Conflicting reports on the state of cod stocks range from misinterpretation of the science – such as the Telegraph’s story that there were only <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/earth/environment/9546004/Just-100-cod-left-in-North-Sea.html">100 adult cod</a> left in the North Sea (the correct figure was around 21 million) – to misunderstanding over the state of cod stocks in different territorial waters.</p>
<p>The North East Arctic cod stock is currently booming and provides much of the cod consumed in the UK, while the North-west Atlantic cod fishery which <a href="http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/remembering-the-mighty-cod-fishery-20-years-after-moratorium-1.1214172">collapsed 20 years ago</a> has not yet recovered, and several other cod stocks remain at historically low levels. Fisheries management is complex, and reporting filled with errors and omissions only adds to consumers’ confusion.</p>
<p>Television programme Masterchef stirred up a <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/media/2014/apr/29/bbc-masterchef-cod-scotland-sustainable-fish">fuss</a> this week after its website pointed viewers to the Marine Conservation Society’s guidelines for sustainably harvested fish. Scottish trawlermen were reported to be angered by the MCS’s classification of cod from the Irish and North Seas and from the west of Scotland as a “<a href="http://www.fishonline.org/fishfinder?fish=cod">fish to avoid</a>”.</p>
<p>While the MCS does place cod from these waters into its highest danger category, the <a href="http://www.sff.co.uk/">Scottish Fishermen’s Federation</a> chief executive, Bertie Armstrong, said:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Scottish fishing has tried extremely hard to be sustainable. Our beef about the Marine Conservation Society traffic light list of guidance is that it is superficial and illogical. If anybody buys fish in the United Kingdom then it has been fished within a quota and is entirely sustainable. That’s the measure of it.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>In fact the SFF comments referred only to North Sea cod, and not to the Irish or west of Scotland stocks as implied in the Guardian’s reporting. So, cod or no cod? No wonder the fish-eating public is confused.</p>
<h2>Science and industry</h2>
<p>European fisheries management advice is provided by the International Commission for the Exploration of the Seas (<a href="http://www.ices.dk/">ICES</a>) which bases its assessments on data from commercial fish landings and from research surveys. These data are used to reconstruct trends in historic stock size and fishing mortality and to forecast what the stock will do over the next few years at different levels of harvest.</p>
<p>From the huge amount of publicly available reports available from ICES, here are charts showing the trends in cod spawning biomass in the North Sea, Irish Sea and to the west of Scotland.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/47904/original/39hgsj9v-1399392535.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/47904/original/39hgsj9v-1399392535.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/47904/original/39hgsj9v-1399392535.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=677&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/47904/original/39hgsj9v-1399392535.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=677&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/47904/original/39hgsj9v-1399392535.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=677&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/47904/original/39hgsj9v-1399392535.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=851&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/47904/original/39hgsj9v-1399392535.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=851&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/47904/original/39hgsj9v-1399392535.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=851&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption"></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>If the weight of mature fish in a stock (the spawning stock biomass) is reduced to too low a level it will not be able to replace the number of fish removed by fishing and natural predation. However, fish stocks cannot increase indefinitely due to natural ecological limits, an ecosystem’s “carrying capacity”. There is therefore an optimal amount of mature spawning fish which generate the maximum surviving offspring. If harvest rates are adjusted so that the spawning stock biomass is at this value then the fishing is said to be at “maximum sustainable yield”, and achieving this is the aim of current fisheries policy in many countries.</p>
<p>So is North Sea cod being “sustainably harvested” at current levels? It depends what we mean by “sustainable fishing”. However, the widely accepted definition for a stock which has recovered, and so is sustainable in the long-term, is when the level of removals allows the spawning stock biomass to be at the level which will give maximum sustainable yields. According to the ICES estimates, fishing mortality on cod in the North Sea is currently still above this level.</p>
<p>So regardless of a legal quota of cod for fishers to land, fishing mortality is still too high and the cod stock size in the North Sea is not yet at the level which will allow a long-term maximum sustainable yield. However, the quotas being set should allow the North Sea stock to continue to rebuild over time – they are not set so high that overfishing is likely to cause a further decline in the spawning stock biomass.</p>
<h2>Livelihoods on the line</h2>
<p>It is certainly true that the UK industry has worked hard for many years to try and ensure that cod stocks recover. Many of the measures adopted have involved sacrifices from the industry, including the decommissioning of vessels, introduction of fishing gear modifications to reduce the by-catch of small cod and actions to avoid areas where young cod congregate.</p>
<p>It seems these efforts are beginning to have some effect in the North Sea, as the stock assessment shows the amount of mature adults is now rising. In contrast there has been only limited improvement in the Irish Sea, and none at all in the west of Scotland. Why these stocks are not improving, compared with the North Sea cod, is not clear. Possible reasons include interactions with other fisheries, environmental changes or increased natural predation. There is no clear scientific answer yet although there is <a href="http://www.scotland.gov.uk/Resource/Doc/295194/0123085.pdf">evidence of environmental changes</a> such as rising sea temperature and changes to plankton. It has been suggested that these changes could be affecting the survival rates of young cod in particular, but there is no definitive proof.</p>
<p>The steady recovery of cod in the North Sea since 2009 does show that the stocks can respond positively, but does this mean the Marine Conservation Society should change its consumer advice? If one accepts the targets for a recovered stock associated with maximum sustainable yield, then there is clearly still some way to go.</p>
<p>Perhaps we need to describe fishing for cod in the North Sea at present levels as fishing ‘responsibly’, rather than ‘sustainably’. This would both acknowledge the vital role that the industry is playing in re-building the stock but also acknowledge that this stock is not yet at the level we want to see for long-term sustainability.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/26206/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Clive Fox receives funding from the Natural Environment Research Council (NERC) and Scottish Government and is a member of the Marine Conservation Society, but does not directly advise or consult for MCS.</span></em></p>Pity the poor consumer who wants to make informed decisions about eating cod. Conflicting reports on the state of cod stocks range from misinterpretation of the science – such as the Telegraph’s story…Clive Fox, Principal Investigator in fisheries and plankton ecology, Scottish Association for Marine ScienceLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/176342013-08-30T22:46:11Z2013-08-30T22:46:11ZCooking with passion: why audiences still love MasterChef<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/30276/original/5nt8zscp-1377828139.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">The highly edited segments position the advice and decisions of the judges – including Matt Preston, right – as beyond reproach. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP Image/Dave Hunt</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>As MasterChef fans count down to tomorrow night’s season five finale, advertisers will be crossing their fingers that ratings will match last year’s <a href="http://www.oztam.com.au/documents/2012/OzTAM-20120722-EMetFTARankSumCons.pdf">top-ranking-program</a> status. With a season six on the horizon, the question on everyone’s lips is: have we watched enough MasterChef? </p>
<p>I expect the answer will be no, because of one key ingredient: passion. Passion wins out over technique. Passion is what drives us, lest we be stuck in our passionless jobs or relationships. </p>
<p>Throughout the history of MasterChef, most contestants have been professional or creative-class renegades. Lawyers, teachers, IT professionals, marketing experts, and a newly created category of “stay-at-home” mums and dads, have been willing to sacrifice their previous decade(s) of career-building in search of passion and meaning by turning their amateur cooking interest into owning their own café, restaurant, or other establishment.</p>
<p>Throughout the episodes of MasterChef, we are treated to the intimacies of passionate cooking as the contestants go through the precarious process of producing delicate and delicious meals. </p>
<p>That the stress, emotion, and passion are authentic is brought to us via the close ups that show sweating bodies and people under the extreme competitive pressure. In these moments, the reality of being a chef, including split shifts, broken relationships, poor sleep patterns and substance abuse, is off into the distance. It’s all about this meal.</p>
<p>The contestants are overseen and judged by three male judges. This year there has been a notable absence of woman chefs and judges. The contestants receive subtle mentoring during the course of preparing meals and it is expected that contestants accept, without question, advice about how to proceed with a dish. </p>
<p>The highly edited segments position the judges’ advice and decisions as beyond reproach. The contestants anxiously await the judges’ verdict, and afterwards are left standing while they “deconstruct” their experience. In these situations, the contestant is often more critical of their own work than the judges.</p>
<p>However, when someone wins the best dish of the night, that success is accompanied by cautious statements by the winner indicating that they cannot rest on their laurels but must continually aim to improve; they can appreciate their victory but always in the knowledge that it starts over again tomorrow. Their success is precarious.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/30279/original/9kkh5jw3-1377828667.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/30279/original/9kkh5jw3-1377828667.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/30279/original/9kkh5jw3-1377828667.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/30279/original/9kkh5jw3-1377828667.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/30279/original/9kkh5jw3-1377828667.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/30279/original/9kkh5jw3-1377828667.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/30279/original/9kkh5jw3-1377828667.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Confident, but not too confident: Adam Liaw, winner of MasterChef season two.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>When someone produces the worst dish of the night and are removed from the competition, they are never “losers”. Rather, they are winners and they thank the judges for the chance to perform in the competition, for all the advice and opportunities afforded to them, and all the “new doors” that have opened because of their involvement in the competition.</p>
<p>The message that comes from MasterChef regarding the plight of these people seeking a new beginning is also the message of neoliberalism. This is not the macro message of neoliberalism as outlined by Naomi Klein in <a href="http://www.naomiklein.org/shock-doctrine">The Shock Doctrine</a>, even if this is the backdrop. This is the neoliberalism that many academics write about in relation to the changing and precarious nature of work.</p>
<p>The message is: always be positive, passionate, listen to your superiors and never question their credentials nor their judgements. Learn how to be a good team member but never rest easy because that team will change tomorrow. Be confident, but not too confident, because if you don’t perform “you could be going home”.</p>
<p>In a fleeing profession that is probably characterised by increasing competition, compliance, regulation, precariousness, loss of status and downward pressure on salaries, these contestants are willing to give all this away, to purse their new passion.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/17634/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Roger Wilkinson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>As MasterChef fans count down to tomorrow night’s season five finale, advertisers will be crossing their fingers that ratings will match last year’s top-ranking-program status. With a season six on the…Roger Wilkinson, lecturer , James Cook UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/81062012-07-10T00:36:35Z2012-07-10T00:36:35ZMasterchef and menstruation: how the media hijacks women’s fertility<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/12705/original/2bfqn7cg-1341803172.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C303%2C2816%2C1698&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Is menstruation pop culture's last taboo?</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">wiccked</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>A friend involved in a half-hearted pregnancy quest recently asked me about ovulation. A technical question about how and when and the duration. I stared back blankly, offered her a shrug. “Didn’t you spend all last year writing a book about it?” she pressed.</p>
<p>Indeed, I did. A <em>whole</em> book about it. Not about ovulation per se, but about menstruation. About pop culture’s presentation of one of the last remaining taboos. And while a year on that project failed to gift much insight into the mechanics of my monthly hijinks, the media’s relationship with <em>the</em> women’s issue, has since become my <em>obsession</em>.</p>
<p>As Helen (Isabelle Adjani) remarked in the 1981 film <em>Possession</em>: “There is nothing in common among women except menstruation.” Of the deluge of things that make women socially, sexually and aesthetically disparate, menstruation exists as a common experience.</p>
<p>Nearly all women will bleed and just as many will experience its conclusion.</p>
<p>Last week’s <em>Masterchef</em> was pretty gruelling for me. The wonderful <em>untypical</em> TV superstar Amina was wrenched from us without warning. All that’s left now is a gaggle of interchangeable Amina-less names and faces. <em>Shudder</em></p>
<p>More <em>interesting</em> than Amina’s untimely ousting, however, was Debra’s mentioning of the M-word. Not menstruation - with its ugly mouthfeel - rather <em>menopause</em>, that endgame of all those years of bleeding and concealing and deodorising and discarding.</p>
<p>Be it through crafty editing or just the high-stakes game of competitive cooking, Debra was shown having a fair few kitchen melt-downs. She was pissy and teary and snappy and fatigued. And when eventually asked about it all she divulged that she was a middle-aged woman going through menopause. And everyone laughed gaily: ahh … it all made sense now.</p>
<p>Initially, truth be told, the mention of the M-word delighted me. Ours is a culture where everything to do with our menstruating selves is kept secret. From the earliest age girls are taught how to ensure that it’s all done secretly and odourlessly and far, far away from men. We’re expected to plug it up privately and get on with the job. And when it’s all over we’re supposed to carry on as always, lest anyone discover the sins and smells of our femaleness.</p>
<p>For Debra to dare put her hand up and say, hey, things <em>aren’t</em> perfect in my body, in my head, in my spirits, I felt a bit chuffed. Daring to speak the unspeakable always delights me.</p>
<p>And then - because I’m an academic and can’t bloody help myself - I thought more about it. Perhaps too much more about it.</p>
<p>For most of 2011, I catalogued and analysed portrayals of menstruation in film and television. I embarked on the book assuming screen silence and ended up with more than 200 screen examples. It was a productive year.</p>
<p>That first periods and late periods and dwindling periods each had a identifiable presence in film and television pleased me; silence breeds stigma and secrecy and misinformation. As a feminist, I want these topics aired. </p>
<p>Less pleasing however, was that the vast majority of those 200+ scenes were negative.</p>
<p>As much as I want for Debra - for <em>any</em> woman - to feel strong enough and safe enough and supported enough to tell her story, I just wish that it didn’t comply with the standard sad sack narrative that the screen has always offered.</p>
<p>Pop culture presents a very standardised tale of menstruation: it embarrasses young girls, puts women in bad moods, sparks bouts of irrationality if not <em>hysteria</em>, interrupts sex lives and is only ever vaguely interesting when it’s late or when we’re willing it not to come.</p>
<p>For menopause, the story is one of mood swings, hot flushes, forgetfulness and that tried and true sitcom staple: <em>excessive facial hair</em>.</p>
<p>The answer isn’t a simple one: if Debra’s experience with menopause is a hard one, she should - unquestionably - have the right to tell it like it is, sister. But her story needs to be supplemented.</p>
<p>We need more stories of those women who bleed for 30-odd years without the dramas and fanfare and homicidal rages that the screen too often offers. Equally, we need tales of women who’ve gone through menopause without the craziness and the moustache and the meltdown.</p>
<p>Lauren Rosewarne’s is author of <strong>Periods in Pop Culture: Menstruation in Film and Television</strong>.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/8106/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Lauren Rosewarne does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>A friend involved in a half-hearted pregnancy quest recently asked me about ovulation. A technical question about how and when and the duration. I stared back blankly, offered her a shrug. “Didn’t you…Lauren Rosewarne, Senior Lecturer, The University of MelbourneLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.