Mired in scandal, the first episode of the new series airs tonight, with sacked presenters Gregg Wallace and John Torode at the helm for the final time
I hope whoever had to edit this series of MasterChef is on holiday. Feet up, piña colada in hand, and, most importantly, phone off, or preferably locked away in a vault, à la Jason Isaacs in The White Lotus. You would have to pay me a very large amount of money to have been lumped with the task, over the past weeks, of wrangling this series of the show so that it somehow reflected the uncomfortable fact that its presenters have been sacked because of… well, some uncomfortable facts.
After prolonged debate, it was decided in late July that series 21 of MasterChef would air, despite its being mired in scandal, because otherwise it wouldn’t be fair to the contestants (although one of them asked to be edited out anyway). Now the day is upon us for the first episode, and the first three are already on iPlayer. “So weird… this is weird,” says contestant Thea, right at the beginning, of being in the MasterChef kitchen. Yep, us too, Thea (get that editor another drink!). But once you get over the initial weirdness, it’s business as usual, and though there is perhaps marginally less presenter action, if you hadn’t read the news you’d be hard pushed to notice that anything had changed.
The contestants from episode one (Photo: BBC/Shine TV)
The trouble is that everyone has read the news. And whatever your views on Gregg Wallace and John Torode, who have helmed the programme for 21 years, the simple facts of the case make everything feel rather loaded. To recap: Wallace stepped aside from the show in November 2024 after a BBC News investigation in which 13 people accused him of making inappropriate sexual comments. He was then formally sacked in early July following a report that upheld 45 complaints against him, including one of unwelcome physical contact and three of being in a state of undress (he was cleared of several more serious allegations).
When the story broke late last year, Torode sought to distance himself from Wallace, and kept his presenting role on the upcoming celebrity version – but then the report found that a complaint against Torode, for using the N-word on set, had also been upheld. Torode said he had no recollection of the incident (and he was cleared of nine other allegations involving abusive, racist and sexual language). BBC Director General Tim Davie said the organisation was “drawing a line in the sand”, and after, it seems, protracted negotiations with the production company, Banijay, Torode was for the chop a couple of weeks later.
All of which plays on your mind while you’re watching. How could it not? Torode and Wallace have reportedly turned on each other, so their light professional rapport, no doubt genuine at the time of filming, now feels odd. When Wallace chats to 70-year-old Penelope, who’s a dab hand with a hogget shank, or even anxious, butter-loving 40-year-old Beth, you can’t help but wonder if he’s rolling his eyes at “women of a certain age”.
Penelope makes hogget shank (Photo: BBC/Shine TV)
For fans of the show, this creates cognitive dissonance in exactly the environment that you don’t want it (just imagine how this year’s contestants feel). Torode has always seemed, to me, a good guy, supportive and empathetic to contestants; while it’s easier to imagine Gregg saying, for example, a dish “tastes like [his] aunt’s vagina”, it’s still difficult to reconcile the deep levels of discomfort and distress he’s caused people while unwittingly enjoying his anodyne cheeky chappy persona. (This becomes easier when you consider the ungracious way he has handled the allegations since they emerged.) Of course, this is exactly the argument for why the series shouldn’t have been aired.
All of that said, MasterChef has such a familiar rhythm that it doesn’t take that long to zone out the noise and get into the meat of it. It’s welcome to see last year’s finalists, Brin Pirathapan, Louise Lyons Macleod and Chris Willoughby (whose profession was memorably described at the time as “firebreathing pig”) in the third-round dining room, judging dishes for a place in the quarter final, and it’s welcome, as always, to have your mind soothed with talk of mousselines, ganache and a nefarious “crumb”. The heats – of which there are very many – follow the same format they have for years: “Basic to Brilliant”, the invention test and the two-course dining room challenge. As ever, MasterChef delights us with the perfect blend of comfort and surprise (sorrel and goat’s cheese with watermelon and wasabi?! Well I never).
Last year’s finalists make a welcome return (Photo: BBC/Shine TV)
One novelty is the increasing number of contestants who get into food through the internet, like this year’s Shaun, who has never eaten Hainanese chicken rice, but decided to make it after seeing a video online, and nabs himself high praise from Wallace and Torode and a spot in the next round as a result. Social media is not just inspirational, either, but aspirational – 32-year-old Gemma “dreams of travelling the world making food-based social media content”, and Pirathapan, last year’s winner, says his life since lifting the trophy has involved plenty of “content creation”.
Yet for us viewers, watching reels on Instagram still doesn’t hit the MasterChef mark. As formulaic as it is, I’ve learned so much about food watching it – plus, its high stakes, high emotions and, yes, highly skilled presenters, make it excellent telly. It’s far from the most important thing to come out of all this, but I can’t help but feel a bit sad on multiple levels that MasterChef – both now and in future, when new presenters are decided – has lost some of that familiarity and comfort.