Like many reality TV fans, I get caught up in the drama of shows such as MasterChef Australia and, more recently, Zumbo's Just Desserts.
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Audiences are given plenty of time to pick a favourite contestant. We learn about their personal lives, desire to succeed or how food is linked to memories of cherished family.
We become invested in our favourites and cry with them when they are eliminated or suffer setbacks. 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 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. It's neoliberalism on a plate.
Shouldn't these opportunities for battlers to participate in high-end food culture be celebrated? After all, why can't working class people become foodies?
Many working class people have great cooks in their families. 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 cultural capital via the television? As someone with a working class background, I am fascinated and somewhat disturbed by MasterChef and Just Desserts.
I like to see working class people on television. 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.
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. This world requires the capital to buy expensive ingredients, dine in fancy restaurants and go on food tours.
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.
And while the average punter might now know what aconfit quail leg is, how many working class Australians eat quail on a regular basis?
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 usual route to becoming a chef, which normally involves training and low-paid apprenticeships for a number of years.
But 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?
These shows 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, and the concept of the celebrity chef, is built on inequality.
Despite the possibility a working class contestant might win, the majority of working class viewers will continue to be the ones growing, harvesting, packaging, delivering and selling the products to be turned into 92-step dishes that are out of financial reach for aspirational, working class viewers.