Masterchef Australia, Series 13: Where Are The Old People?

We are seven episodes in to the new series of MasterChef Australia. Everyone is approximately 31 years old. Question-to-self: where are the old people?

Pastels: In! People over 40: Out? I found this lovely image here.

It's not an empty question, but it'll take a while to answer. By 'a while', I meant two thousand words, at least some maths, and spoilers for previous seasons. It'll also take some basic questions. SAUCY.

1. What is the history of MasterChef Australia featuring contestants who are 'old'?

2. What is the typical age-range featured in the show?

3. Is this season really different?

4. Does this matter? 

1. History lesson!

There aren't a lot of contestants that I can immediately recall when I think 'Masterchef Australia' and 'old'. I will, of course, never forget the delightfulest of dew-drops Kumar (from series three, and - at 62 - the oldest contestant in Masterchef). I remember both Colin and Nicole from series six, Billy and  Adele from series two. And...?

I'm blanking because of a number of reasons. First, I've watched a ton of MasterChef Australia but my interaction with three of its series has been more patchy and inconsistent. Which means I haven't a complete 'pool' to begin with. Second, it's easier to remember contestants who have gone further in the competition -- you see them more often, and there are fewer people in the room fighting for attention. This means that whether somebody is 54 or 27, I'm less likely to be able to recall them if they didn't make the top twelve. As there aren't a lot of 'old' contestants that did, I can't quite constitute the group in general.

The biggest reason, though, is that I have no fixed category in my mind for what constitutes 'old'. Old is relative. Old in the citizen register is 70. Old in the undergraduate classroom is 25. Old in ballet is, like, 9. So what is 'old' in the world in which this show is set? 

A prickly pear of a pickle. 

MasterChef Australia usually highlights contestant age when it is unusually low. So, when you have a contestant who seems improbably good in relation to their age, they are marketed to us as young. This, for instance, was partly how we remembered people like Callum (who was 19 in series two), Laura (18 during series six) and Jess (19 in series ten). I haven't watched series eleven, but I know that Larissa was marketed widely as the "youngest winner ever". She was 22 at the time.  

This makes sense. It is remarkable that an eighteen year old can say words like 'I would like to caramelize that onion', and it is remarkable that a twenty year old can keep their semi-developed heads on their shoulders as they compete with people twice their age. 

That's the second thing: how important the non-youth of others is, in highlighting the youth of some contestants. The youngest contestants on MasterChef are usually between 18 and 20. The age of the oldest contestants vary a lot more. The broad middle stays roughly the same, and there's typically a lot of contestants each year who are between 27 and 38. Pass 40 and you're on more slippery ground; pass 50 and it's icy; pass 60, it's Kumar.

All of this to say that age is relational. Jess's age became more tightly drawn around her because it stood in relation to others.  If you took all the contestants in her year (that's series ten, for reference), put them into a bowl, stirred so there were no lumps, passed the mixture through a sieve until everything but age disappeared, and then reduced the remains down until it was viscous, tart and intense, you would get a great sauce. You would also get the arithmetic 'mean' - the average age of all contestants on that series. That number is 34.67. Which, unless you're baking, is basically 35. 

So yes, Of course Jess would be branded as young. She was. She was young relative to her improbable talent. She was young relative to the next-oldest contestant that year: 24-year old Brendan (In my dictionary, Brendan is a collective noun that can be used to refer to sets of dimples as well as dumplings. As in, I'll have a Brendan of dumplings, please'). She was young relative to a contestant pool in which the mean age is nearly 35. 

Now, the 'mean' or average of a set doesn't always tell us as much as we think it tells us.  In some cases, other markers are more useful (the 'median' for example).  Think of an imaginary new MasterChef series in which half the contestants are 33, and the other half are 37. No other ages are represented: which means no Khanh, Brendan, Sashi, Ben, Reece, Hoda, Michelle, Metter. The mean age is still 35, but it's a radically different competition than the one we're given to expect. What is it missing?

Here's a new term: range. Which, in cooking, could mean this or this, but actually it means:

2. Maths!

In MATHS! terms, the range is simply the difference between the biggest number in a set and the smallest number in a set. So, the range of ages in a series that produced Jess (the youngest, at 19) and Gina and Metter (the joint oldest, at 54) would be thirty-five. In fact, a range in the thirties is most common for MasterChef Australia. Here's a chart I made to help. I'm calling it 'age three-ways with textures of chard.'

Age Three-Ways with Textures of Chard (cooking time: 20 minutes)

The chart should show three things. First, it's really common to have the 'oldest' MasterChef contestant be in their fifties or above. It happens (more than) two out of every three times. Imagine if you overcooked rice two out of every three times that you made it. You'd say that it was pretty common that you overcooked rice. 

Second, it's really common for us to see an age-range of at least thirty in the MasterChef kitchen. This, like you overcooking rice, happens (more than) two out of every three times. The range has gone into the forties once (hi, Kumar!) and slipped just below the thirties twice. Both of those times, it's been the presence (or combination) of a relatively older 'youngest' contestant and a relatively younger 'oldest' contestant. 

The third thing the table should tell us is, 

3. Series thirteen is weird

In series thirteen, the oldest contestant is Scott. He's 40.  There are cheeses in the kitchen that are older than Scott. To have an 'oldest' contestant who is 40 in a cooking franchise in which most 'oldest' contestants are 50 and above is weird. That's not you overcooking rice, that's you just washing the grains and leaving them in water and forgetting to put the gas on and eating it all anyway. 

The only other time when someone in their early 40s qualified as the oldest contestant was in series seven. The oldest contestant then was dentist Matthew, at 43. He had company from Melita and Jacqui who were in their 40s too. If that batch of cooks was compressed into a big hunk of either pork or cake (choices!), the wedge that we'd cut off to check for "distinct layers" would have very little height on it.  That's because the difference between the oldest and youngest contestant (the range, in other words) would be twenty-five. 

This series sees a range that is even lower, and by a significant amount. The youngest relic in the fossil show is 19. That's a range of twenty-one. A range of twenty-one means that no one in this competition has spent more than two decades in food, or was around when fondues were bubbling to the surface.  A range of twenty-one means that this is the stumpiest cross-section of pig / cake / Australian inter-generational society we've had so far. A slice as thick as one generation. 

I've been writing about 'range' in a strictly mathematical way so far. But there's a softer sense in which we use the term in our everyday lives. To say that something has range is to say, simply, that is contains diversity.

MasterChef Australia has always tried to highlight the diversity it contains. Most often, the show has done this by identifying and then isolating a set of different cooking styles, philosophies, ingredients to create a broad 'range'. So you'll have somebody who likes to work with freshly-caught seafood, somebody who is all about french patisserie and so on. When taken to an extreme point, these preferences become sharpened into titles: somebody becomes 'the dessert king' and somebody becomes the 'queen of choux'. It's like building a deck of cards with familiar attributes so that people know which one to pick. 

This is diversity conceived through food itself: how someone approaches it, what they want to do with it. But the show has become more comfortable with 'producing' (in the sense that all of the show is produced and managed) and in displaying other kinds of range, too. Series twelve ('Back to Win') did a lot to establish the range that stems from culture, region, sexuality, genealogy, for example. There has been a lot of writing on how consistent markers of cultural difference have made the show feel more expansive and generous. It felt important to watch an episode in which Poh, Khanh, Reynold, Jess and Brendan competed for immunity; it felt important that so many of the contestants in 'Back To Win' were queer. Even the bits that were uncomfortable felt important -- Amina not being able to taste what she cooked because it wasn't halal; the consistent derision towards 'veggo' food; the particular framing of Vietnamese cuisine as non-fancy.

A broad age-range is a basic, sometimes boring, often noticeable, means of showing diversity within a room. This series doesn't have it.

4. Who Cares, M8?

Not this guy

Possibly, no one. I've been tracking articles, recaps and tweets on this show and the low age-ceiling isn't a 'talking point'. Perhaps that's because there are other things to talk about, but absence of the right picture cards doesn't help. We have clear categories for 'fresh-faced cutie' and 'wise beyond his years' on MasterChef Australia. If there were not to be someone from these categories, we'd likely notice. But the picture-cards for 'really capable middle-aged man' and 'quietly competent old-but-not-old lady' are not drawn as brightly.

Going back to the 'older' contestants that MasterChef Australia has seen over the years helps. There are many Noelenes, Pias, Bretts, Anushkas who have inhabited -- and belonged in -- the MasterChef kitchen. There's Debra from series four, Genene from series ten, Peter from serires three, Jimmy from series eight, Rachael from series six. Series twelve is particularly interesting: in giving us returning contestants, it invariably gives us an older contestant pool. So, suddenly, Chris slips inside this 'older' bucket as do Tracy and Poh. 

This allows for a different sort of wonderment. We'd wonder at the person in their fifties, grounded in experience and comfort, choosing to step into a kitchen raging with uncertainty and heat. We'd wonder why somebody who could be cuddling their grandchildren would choose to roast their face off next to a hibachi grill while being shouted at by a frothing chef. We'd wonder because these improbable choices - and the people who make them - are worthy of wonder. An 18-year old boy who can produce something that is unlike what others his age produce (clue: white, gelatinous, and not panna cotta) is wondrous. An 46-year old woman who takes on foolhardy risks with chaotic precision is wondrous too. We need both: in the world, and in the MasterChef kitchen. So why the missing people?

This is not a political question about ageism or an accusation of malice. Producers may, of course, profit more from having younger people (with instagram accounts?) on their show, but I reckon 'gramps with prescription glasses and shaky fingers takes out MasterChef trophy' would be a great story, too. The angle of ageism is less interesting to me, because it replaces the diffuse spirit of an inquiry with the focused heat of a conclusion. I'm not interested in concluding. I would simply like to state what is true and go from there: something has changed and this is unusual. 

Interestingly, 'something has changed and this is unusual' is also the official slogan for 2020-2021. Funny you bring it up. 

Because, yes: something big has happened and this is unusual. There is a pandemic ongoing and a reality show featuring home cooks is being produced at the same time. We can see the presence of the pandemic in the current series of MasterChef Australia, and in the latter half of the previous series. In the distance maintained between contestants in challenges, their aggressive hand-washing, the separate plates that judges eat from. But more often than not, we see the pandemic in the absence of things: the absence of hugs when somebody needs it (never a rarity in this kitchen), the absence of crowds and large-scale challenges, the absence of friends and family in auditions. Should we be adding absent older contestants to this list?

Maybe, maybe not. We know that the pandemic has claimed many casualties. We also know many people have been disproportionately affected by it and that elderly people are more vulnerable. Now, that's a different definition of age entirely -- we're talking 65 and older. I also don't want to urge morbid conclusions -- all the nonnas are dead! -- when none are needed. Australia seems to have handled this better than other countries (I'm writing from India which is losing more people by the day than Australia has lost in a year. What a joke!). So, perhaps the threat of the virus in is felt much less in Australia. Perhaps this is not about older contestants being at-risk and scared to step out as much as it is about the fire and anger of a younger generation that has felt cheated of living their full lives. Perhaps it has to do with who gets to be audacious, and in what circumstances.

There are many kinds of home cooks in Australia - and around the world. Some cook thai and some like pie, and some tend goats and some wear coats, and some are mean and some are clean. And some are old and some are young.  Do all of them have access, at this particular point in time, to the MasterChef kitchen?