Gary & the India Connection

Over the past 15 years, Gary Mehigan has journeyed through India’s cities, villages, mountains and kitchens with a curiosity that has deepened into affection. Today, he describes his relationship with the country as something close to obsession — one built on friendships, flavours, festivals and the rhythms of everyday life.

Mehigan’s introduction to India arrived unexpectedly in 2012, when he and fellow MasterChef Australia judge George Calombaris were invited to take part in Oz Fest, a bilateral cultural and business exchange. India was not yet on Mehigan’s “must-visit” list. But the moment he stepped off the plane and began tasting his way through the country, something shifted.

“It was a bit of a baptism by fire,” he recalls from his sun-filled home in Melbourne. “But from the first time getting off the plane and travelling around, I was just blown away. I loved it.” That first trip set in motion what would become dozens more journeys, spanning film shoots, food tours, pop-ups, festivals and quiet meals in family homes.

“I think we must be at around 40 visits now,” he says. His travels have taken him everywhere from the Himalayas and Nagaland to Punjab, Kerala, Tamil Nadu and the great megacities — Mumbai, Delhi, Hyderabad and Kolkata. Along the way, India has ceased to be a professional destination and become something much more personal. Today, he no longer visits as a passing celebrity. He comes to see friends.

One of Mehigan’s most meaningful Indian projects was the National Geographic series Mega Festivals, which took him deep inside celebrations such as Durga Puja in Kolkata, Hornbill Festival in Nagaland, Onam in Kerala and Hola Mohalla in Punjab. These journeys gave him access to cultural life at a level few tourists ever experience.

He recalls the Onam sadya at the Thrikkakara Temple in Kochi, Kerala as particularly moving. Sitting cross-legged on the floor among strangers from vastly different backgrounds, he watched as status dissolved into the simple act of sharing a meal. Wealthy families, labourers, elders and young travellers all ate together from banana leaves, served by hundreds of volunteers. “There was no judgment,” he recalls. “Everybody was the same — young, old, rich, poor. And everything that happened there was through generosity. We don’t have anything like that in the West.”

That sense of belonging, he believes, is India’s great gift to the world.

Though Mehigan’s work often places him in kitchens, he is wary of trying to recreate Indian food for Indian diners. When he collaborates with Bengaluru-based food platform Conosh on pop-ups and culinary events, he leans into his strengths: classic European technique, Asian influences and ingredient-driven menus.

“I realised very quickly that I couldn’t compete with the instinctive connection Indians have with their own food,” he laughs. “There’s nothing worse than a clumsily cooked appam from a bloke from Australia.”

At home in Australia, however, he cooks Indian food constantly. Kerala-style fish moilee, Chettinad chicken, dal tadka, puri, appam and Bengali hilsa are regulars at his table. He collects recipes from chef friends and treats each dish like a form of continuing education. “I’ll message friends and say, ‘Hey, I had this — how do I make it?’ Then I experiment. Indian cuisine is endlessly fascinating.”

What excites Mehigan most today is the global ascendance of Indian chefs.

Restaurants such as Masque in Mumbai, Naar in Himachal Pradesh and Cavatina in Goa are helping shift perceptions of Indian cuisine from familiar classics to boundary-pushing innovation rooted in local ingredients and heritage. “In the past, people thought Indian food was just butter chicken and dal makhani,” he says. “Now people are flying across the world to eat in India. Indian chefs are influencing menus globally — and that’s wonderful to see.”

But he insists that tradition and innovation can coexist. “Those old recipes won’t disappear,” he says. “They are the foundations. The good new ideas will stick, and the bad ones will fade — just like in every cuisine.”

If food was the entry point, it is the people who keep bringing him back. Mehigan speaks with affection about festival organisers, camera crews, chefs and chai vendors he has met. One of his favourite rituals is stopping at roadside tea stalls.

“I love finding great chai,” he says. “You stand there, sip your tea and watch life unfold. It gives you a beautiful snapshot of the world in that tiny little space.”

India, he believes, is one of the rare places where he feels instantly understood.

“Australians and Indians share a similar sense of humour,” he says. “We’re both self-deprecating, and we both have a healthy disregard for authority. I recognised that immediately.”

Today, Mehigan lives in Melbourne, where he has built a life away from the relentless pressure of restaurant kitchens. After decades of running dining rooms, he now prefers a portfolio of projects: leading curated food tours with Luxury Escapes, collaborating with Conosh, developing television projects — and he is considering a new cookbook. He is also an ambassador for the Baker Heart and Diabetes Institute and will soon launch Good Food Every Day, a show focused on health-forward cooking.

What guides his choices now is simple: joy. “I want to follow the buds of joy,” he says. “I’ve worked hard. I’m nearly 60, but not old yet — and I just want to do projects I really connect with.”

Looking back, Mehigan still marvels at the serendipity of it all. A single cultural exchange trip became a lifelong connection — one that has shaped his work, widened his worldview and deepened his appreciation for community, generosity and the power of shared meals.

“When I go now,” he says, “I don’t feel like a tourist. I feel like I’m visiting friends.”

India is no longer a destination. It is part of his life story.

And like all great relationships, it continues to evolve — one festival, one kitchen, one cup of chai at a time.