MasterChef 2025 review: The cursed 21st season has made it to air with all hint of flavour removed

Television: Gregg Wallace and John Torode’s screen time has been minimised and the result is as bland as over-boiled potatoes

John Torode (left) and Gregg Wallace, both former presenters of MasterChef. Photograph: Shine TV/BBC/PA Photo
John Torode (left) and Gregg Wallace, both former presenters of MasterChef. Photograph: Shine TV/BBC/PA Photo

If you think RTÉ has had a rocky few years, spare a thought for the BBC, which has suffered through a series of crises that put “Tubsgate” and other Montrose embarrassments in the shade. There was the furore over former Match of the Day presenter Gary Lineker’s tweets about refugees. Then, a social media meltdown after the BBC’s live Glastonbury coverage excluded Kneecap only to spotlight the far more incendiary Bob Vylan. And finally, the pièce de résistance – the radioactive fallout over complaints of inappropriate behaviour against matey MasterChef mainstay Gregg Wallace.

He is now very much an ex-MasterChef mainstay after an independent report upheld 45 out of 83 complaints by 13 women who accused Wallace of inappropriate sexual language, cultural insensitivity and an incident of unwelcome physical contact. Joining him in the recycling bin is co-host John Torode – who was dropped for using “racist language” in a social setting, of which he says he had “no recollection”.

In the normal course, such a litany of complaints would have seen any unaired material binned, never to see daylight. The problem with MasterChef (BBC One, 8pm) is that it isn’t about the presenters but the contestants, who have slogged themselves silly to prove they are the best amateur cooks in Britain. Fair enough – cast Wallace and Torrode into the wilderness. But is it reasonable to chuck out the participants with them?

Not everyone involved is delighted that the series is making it to air. One contestant, Sarah Shafi, felt strongly that the season should be canned – though in the end, the furthest the BBC would go was to edit her out of the opening episode, which she felt didn’t go far enough. “I didn’t say edit me out,” Shafi said. “I said: ‘Axe the show, don’t air the show. I’m asking you not to air the show.’ Prominent figures have been abusing their power. What message does that send out to women?

“For me, it’s about the enabling environment. It’s that complicity. Those individual powerful men do not [act] in isolation. There is an enabling environment, turning a blind eye … It’s about years of these institutions not being accountable.”

That’s quite a starter course of controversy. But now the main dish – the first episode of the cursed 21st season has finally made it to the air, with Wallace and Torode present and correct, and the hopefuls (minus Shafi) toiling over their hobs. However, anyone tuning in hoping for a whiff of brimstone will be underwhelmed: the BBC has decided to take the sting out of MasterChef by expunging any suggestion of a pulse from proceedings

They have done so by minimising Torode and Wallace’s screen time and stripping away every trace of banter or bonhomie. They just stand there banging on about flavours and curries and the ticking clock: replace them with two of the masked guards from Squid Game and the experience would have been much the same.

“What do you want from this competition? Why are you here?” Wallace asks New Zealander Penelope early on in one of his few exchanges with the punters. Later, he exclaims… “Indonesian curry… yeah! That’s a crowd pleaser.” Torode says even less, and the hosts are pushed further into the background halfway through as three of 2024’s finalists are brought on to help with the judging.

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The Wallace scandal has placed the BBC in an impossible position. Canning MasterChef would have meant crushing the dreams of (most of) this year’s contestants. But by airing it, it has left itself open to charges of minimising the accusations against the hosts. Its muddled middle way has been to trim the broadcast to remove all hint of flavour. What’s left is a mealy, undercooked hodgepodge – as bland as over-boiled potatoes, and with all the thrill of a triple serving of Brussels sprouts.