In our weekly interview about objects, the food critic tells us about his vast collection of kitchen gadgets and the beloved jerkin he once lost
Throughout August, Matt Preston is sharing brunch recipes through the ABC Melbourne newsletteratt Preston spent 10 years judging MasterChef Australia, a gig that made him famous for his discerning palate, sharp tongue and collection of fabulous cravats. But that TV juggernaut was just one chapter of the London-born food critic’s long career. Preston has also worked as a food columnist and magazine editor, as well as penning a range of cookbooks – including one called Cravat-A-Licious.
This is Bossy Bell, a small wooden cow on wheels with yellow plastic horns and a bell around her neck that, as you drag her behind you, rings incessantly and annoyingly. This was my first toy and still clangs when you roll it across the carpet. The horns are slightly toddler-chewed and the paper insets that cover her are faded, but she’s still my first toy, and the most evocative of connections to my childhood.
My favourite useful things are a green silicone spatula, which means that licking the cake mix bowl is no longer a temptation as it catches every last skerrick of batter – but that died last month. Then there’s a Japanese knife I was given by workmates at Delicious magazine when I turned 50, and the softest of leather kitchen aprons that weathers beautifully the more I wear it.But really, and boringly, the truth is that the one object that I cannot do without is a long skinny Microplane.
It was my warm blanket when stranded out, my rug when I picnicked with the woman I love, my-look-at-me-I’m-so-rugged, wear-it-all-the-time, functional fashion piece that felt at home anywhere. It was a bit caveman, too, so perfect festival ware. I think it did six Glastonburys over the years. Over the next 30 years it wore better and better until it started to go at the pockets. The only people who could repair it were saddlers and the local bloke who repaired horse blankets.
It disappeared a couple of years back. I don’t know what happened but, as a bloke who once went to a party across town and woke up the next morning back at home with my pants missing, I obviously can’t be trusted with clothes.