Take a moment to think about the core premise of a food competition show. The chefs are gathered not to serve restaurant guests, nor to cook according to their own creative ambitions, but to make food that aligns with arbitrary and often completely ridiculous set-ups that are intended to make cooking more difficult than it actually is. What else do you call it when everyone on Top Chef has to cook using only utensils and ingredients found in the 1700s, or when the Chopped contestants are given a box of cotton candy and beef jerky? The shows will try to convince you that it is a test of these professionals’ ability to think on their feet in a stressful environment, but that is a lie. This is comedy.
Gastronauts knows this. And the competition comedy show, which recently wrapped its second season on Dropout TV, has the viral clips to prove it. “Food competition shows are extremely bizarre in general, and I feel very lucky that with mine we get to lean into them being bizarre rather than having to pretend like they’re not,” says host Jordan Myrick. The competition show, which just wrapped, is the Walk Hard to the rest of food television’s Walk The Line; the parody that reveals every trope for what it is, such that it becomes impossible to watch regular food competition shows again without seeing them for the unintentionally absurdist performance art pieces they are.
Gastronauts follows the format of a regular food competition show. Myrick is joined by three judges, who issue three challenges to the three competing chefs. Except here, the panel of expert judges is a group of comedians who often have absolutely no food expertise. The challenges they pitch seem like they could result in… nothing edible. One judge asked the chefs to make a dish that can be served in a feedbag so you can eat while gaming. Another wanted dishes based on the chefs’ favorite sex positions. Comedian Paul F. Tompkins once offered the enigmatic prompt “a summer night at the hour when the lightning bugs come out.”
Like many 30-somethings, Myrick grew up in the moment when food really became entertainment. “Like all small, gay children, I discovered the Food Network, probably when I was in early elementary school. I loved Rachael Ray more than anything in the world. I would die for her,” they said. They watched her and other early 2000s hits like Alton Brown’s Good Eats, Two Fat Ladies, and, of course, the competition shows Iron Chef and Top Chef. Yes, these shows provided information, like how to make a satisfying dinner in 30 minutes or less, or what happens on a molecular level when you brûlée sugar. But most of us don’t watch a food competition to learn how to cook. We watch it for the spectacle. For Myrick, a lot of these shows were just fun.
Myrick is a comedian and actor known for their work with the Upright Citizens Brigade, the web series Good Mythical Morning, and their podcast Happy Wife Happy Life. They had worked with Dropout TV back when it was known as CollegeHumor, a comedy video and meme site that morphed into a media behemoth, spurring so many celeb-fueled viral videos and the video platform Vimeo. But Myrick has also worked in food, writing for Sporked and creating food content on Instagram and TikTok, chronicling everything from LA tacos to truffle hunting in Tuscany. They’re not just a comedic host, but a millennial influencer who actually knows what they’re talking about with food. Dropout TV CEO Sam Reich asked them to pitch some food challenges for a potential show, but when it became clear no one else at Dropout had worked with food, Myrick went from writer to host and creative producer, bringing on Courtney McBroom as culinary producer — you may know her from her cookbook with Brie Larson.
What Myrick most wanted to play with on Gastronauts is the way pressure manifests in food competition shows. For instance, on Top Chef, viewers are told this is all a test of real world skill, as contestants are sent on challenges where they chip ingredients out of massive ice blocks or make a meal out of baby food — things a head chef would never have to do to prepare for service at a restaurant. This show isn’t about the contestants; it’s about keeping viewers engaged, with the pressure mounting with each episode and season to make it feel like it’s all new and exciting. Gastronauts merely leans into the absurdity that is already there. “I think the goofiness of the challenges combined with the sensation of there being really high stakes is very fun,” says Myrick.
On Gastronauts, chefs are not competing for a massive cash prize; Everyone makes a day rate, and the winner gets a trophy made from a “real piece of the moon,” surely designed to be the envy of any millennial who grew up wanting a piece of the Aggro Crag from Nickelodeon’s GUTS. Which means the chefs who agree to be on the show really are there to have fun. They joke about eating cock in Greece, or cooking meatballs that are served like a conveyor belt, like in I Love Lucy.
Like all small, gay children, I discovered the Food Network, probably when I was in early elementary school. I loved Rachael Ray more than anything in the world. I would die for her.
There are still stakes, however. The panna cotta doesn’t set, ingredients are forgotten, and people are frantically plating at the last possible second. But unlike in other competition shows, there is no undercurrent of stress, no life-changing amount of money looming over every dish. Just chefs cooking “a meal of crumbs served in a man’s beard.”
Another difference is who is judging these dishes. Shows like Chopped and MasterChef love to dazzle viewers with accolades, assuring you there will be more rigor and expertise with every James Beard Award and Michelin star a judge has accrued. They assume Paul Hollywood’s leer will signal that someone is In Charge, and that the viewer will be comforted by order amongst chaos.
Here, Myrick plays the expert, explaining techniques and ingredients for the benefit of the viewer. But the most obvious thing about food is that everyone eats it, which means everyone will have an opinion, regardless of whether they can list the Mother Sauces. Gastronauts weaponizes that. “Everybody has something that they can bring to food judging with their POV, and everyone has a different perspective,” says Myrick. Guest Oscar Montoya asked questions like, “Doesn’t all butter taste the same?” and had no idea what it meant to cook sous vide. And why should he? Why should most people? “I think it adds a lot of fun and ease to the show. and a newness where it's fun to watch someone who's never had flan before taste flan,” Myrick says.
The resulting dishes do actually showcase a chef’s creativity. Asked to make a dish based on your favorite sex position, one chef served a “missionary” spread inspired by the cuisine of monks, featuring brown butter gruel and mulled wine. When prompted with “dry and tuna,” a chef made a tuna tartare with spiced dukkah. The challenge to make a dish that looked like another dish inspired a mac and cheese made from vanilla Tootsie Rolls with coconut flakes in place of shaved Parmesan. “It is joyous, it is way too sweet, and I honestly want to eat the whole thing,” says judge Zach Kornfeld.
When Iron Chef debuted over 30 years ago, it created a series of standards and tropes for food competitions that have been used ever since, as Hell’s Kitchen, Top Chef, and The Great British Bake Off took the stage. The timed challenge inspiring a race to the pantry, surprise ingredients, judges guessing what direction a chef will take, and the inarguable draw of the ice cream machine are things viewers don’t need explained to them anymore. Gastronauts could not have existed then but, now, it is the culmination of 30 years of food entertainment. Its comedy relies not just on chefs having to make wearable charcuterie, but on the common language viewers share regarding food competition TV. That foundation allows Gastronauts to be, perhaps, the ultimate expression of the genre.
There’s an old joke about whoever was the first person to look at an oyster and think, “Gee, I should eat that.” But the joke could apply to anything. Who saw wheat and thought it should be a noodle? Who saw an olive and thought to press it until oil came out? I know there are probably answers to these questions, but I don’t care; that is not the point. The point is that humanity’s entire history of culinary experimentation is funny. Asking chefs to make a dish designed to be dropped from 10 feet in the air is silly, but it’s no sillier than anything else they’re asked to do in a more “professional” setting.
Gastronauts has not yet been renewed for a third season and, if it is, Myrick hopes the challenges get bigger and weirder. In the Season 2 finale, chefs were asked to make the most expensive meal possible, with ingredients including caviar, gold leaf, and a shot of Louis XIII cognac. “I would love to get out of the kitchen, whatever that means,” they say. “I don't know what that means. I don't know if it's cooking in a parking lot or cooking in a car. I have no clue.” How ridiculous. How funny!
