After gracing our screens during lockdown, Nat’s What I Reckon became a household name throughout Australia. Now, he’s touring across the country, asking big questions like, “Are hot dogs real?”
The man needs no introduction, but here’s one anyway. You’ve probably had Nat pop up on your YouTube before, or you’ve seen him live on stage, or you’ve punched him in a Bunnings: all are popular pastimes, apparently.
After exploding onto the scene in 2020, at the height of our country’s dark COVID-19 lockdowns, Nat’s What I Reckon has expanded well beyond explaining why tomato sauce is bad for you. Now, with a healthy stand-up career and more than a few books to his name, the Aussie home cook turned cultural phenomenon is breaking down barriers and turning social media into reality. We sat down with Nat to chat about a bit of everything: what it’s like being internet famous, working with Beyond Blue on raising awareness for mental health initiatives, writing books in record time, and why telling someone to ‘man up’ is probably the worst advice you can give.
MoM: Can you tell me a bit about what the last few years have been like for you? It seems like a pretty meteoric moment in 2020 when the pandemic happened and suddenly you were everywhere?
Yeah, it was March I think. The whole country was on fire, and it was all a bit terrifying. My agent has just booked my first hour-long stand-up show, and we sold a few shows out which was pretty unbelievable – it wasn’t a big room, but it was exciting. I thought that was where things were going to kick off, and people were going to see me do live stand-up, but then the whole impending doom of COVID kicked off and that cancelled all the shows.
So we all locked down, and I just had this idea to make a cooking video, and then shit just went off its head. It’s been a pretty heavy four years, it’s been really good and exciting in a lot of respects, but it’s a bit like hanging on for dear life. This year, I’ve been focusing more on my stand-up stuff and less on video, which has been nice, but it’s been a pretty weird and wild four years.
MoM: Was it a conscious decision to focus more on the stand-up?
That was what I was doing before, and the cooking videos are a new thing to me. I was making some other videos, but I just want to be on stage. I love performing, and I love the crowds. I’ve been a musician my whole life so I love translating that to stand-up and being able to engage with people face-to-face just feels like what I want to do.
The cooking thing is a strange byproduct in that it’s just something else that I like doing, and kind of turned into whatever you call it now. I’ve done some live cooking shows, but they’re a bit unusual and I’ve been pushing back against it. The videos are kind of like an artwork for me: I edit them all myself, and I’m very particular about how I put things together, and you really can’t be particular with cooking on stage. If you fuck it up, you’re going to eat shit in front of everyone, and sometimes you do.
“I’m not a chef, I’m a home cook, and I bugger things up. I’d rather do that in private.”
But it’s been an interesting lesson to me that, really, when people come to see you cook live they actually don’t really give a shit about what you make, as much as they just want to see you cook. It’s why people watch cooking shows, you don’t race off to cook everything you watch, it’s the personality of the person that is a bit more important.
I’m doing some slow growing up here.
MoM: You’ve been touring recently. Can you tell me about that?
The show now is called ‘Hotdogs probably aren’t real’. I name the shows, and I’ve already named my show for next year, but I have no idea what it’s going to be about. I try to give them ambiguous names so I can kind of do whatever I want with it on stage. But the show is about how being on the internet scrambles your brain, and it’s mostly full of shit. There’s just so much weird, strange, wonderful stuff that gets jammed into your head when you’re staring at this bit of glass. It’s the first thing you do [in the morning], right? You flick (through the internet).
I did it this morning, and it wakes me up. It’s this weird brain-stimming thing. What the fuck am I doing watching someone dig out an infection from a horse’s foot? But I can’t stop watching. That’s the speed of the show, but yeah it’s been non-stop. I’ve been on tour for pretty much the whole year, and I’m flying out tomorrow to do more shows, and then I’ll be in Europe in November doing shows.
MoM: Doing the same show?
It’ll be different, because I’ve only been to Europe once before so I kind of have the luxury of doing all my favourite bits. I tend to change shit every night so I don’t get bored telling the same jokes. But yeah, touring is the earner these days.
MoM: So, I’m only really familiar with your presence in Australia, obviously. What’s that look like overseas? Do you have a market in Europe? Or the U.S.?
Yeah, it’s a bit trial-by-fire to find out, really. The UK has been amazing – going through Scotland and Ireland has been pretty incredible, I think my humour translates well over there. I think that if people are buying tickets to see your show, it’s not ’cause they don’t get it. It’s a nice luxury we have in the comedy world to have people buy tickets to see you, rather than performing to people who have no idea who you are. But it’s been unreal. I’ve got a bit of a market in the States, which is now outgrowing the UK [market] for me, so hopefully, next year, I’ll give that another crack.
I’d love to move to the States. My partner Jules and I were living there for six months before the Covid thing, I’ve actually still got a car over there. So if I make it back to L.A., I’ll do a burnout.
MoM: You must have seen some weird shit since becoming internet famous: what’s the weirdest thing?
That depends – in real life, it could be anything from grown men punching me in Bunnings and saying shit like ‘keep it up’, or people tackling me in the toilet. I think men find it hard to communicate what they’re feeling, so they punch things. A lot of people have proposed to me online, which Jules and I laugh about a lot.
People try to take selfies with you while you’re trying to take a piss, which is weird. It’s a big boundary-setting-fest all the time, which isn’t something I’m particularly good at. That’s me time. The men’s toilet is bizarre enough already. Why are we all standing shoulder-to-shoulder at this moment? Can’t we just have a seat? Why are we all emasculated by sitting down?
I think a lot of people forget that I’m a real person. I’m kind of used to having people yell stuff at me, but since the COVID thing it got really weird. People want to touch you a lot, and during COVID it was definitely not the time to touch people. It’s never the time to touch people, but I’ve got a mask on at the shops and I’m walking around and people are like ‘there he is’ and have a touch. It’s like, fuck off dude. I love you, but put your hands in your pockets.
It’s been interesting for the mental health. I don’t know what that person is going through, and they don’t know what I’m going through, but they’re excited to see something that they’ve only ever seen on their phone or on their computer, and they don’t really know what to do.
“I think it’s normal to be a bit confused, but touching strangers is probably not the go.”
I’ve got a bit of give there, I don’t get the shits, but when people take secret photos of me… that’s the one that pisses me off. At the beach, I’m not loving taking my shirt off and jumping in the water. I’m no bodybuilder, so having someone take a photo of me and tag me in it (is uncomfortable).
The other day a guy at the airport was trying to get a sneaky photo of me, and then he came over and said something to me and he was such a nice dude, and I’d already been telling him to fuck off in my head. We chatted. I was like… oh, he’s lovely. I probably should have just told him it was weird, but it’s all good.
MoM: It’s part of that whole ‘fame’ thing.
Yeah, I think people should be a bit careful about what they wish for. It’s a very deep end if you’re not ready for it, even if you want it. Any artist doing whatever they’re doing, if I can be so bold as to call myself that, wants people to see what they’re doing. But when you put your face out there, and you’re very recognisable, that’s a whole different job. You need constant support there if you’re not well, and thankfully I’ve got that.
MoM: Well, that kind of leads to what I wanted to talk about next: you’ve partnered with Beyond Blue. Can you tell me a bit about that partnership and why you think it’s an important cause to be a part of?
Yeah, because the alternative is fucked. It’s a tested theory to not talk about [mental health issues], and look at how it’s gone. Very, very fucking poorly. That’s why services like Beyond Blue are so important, because there’s just such a phenomenal amount of people struggling, and in a really heavy crisis. Every single person on Earth has something to say, has tough days, and what good does it do to not talk about it?
For me, it’s a very daily struggle. I really struggle with my mental health and have to do my best to stay on top of it, so having a chance to do something with this ‘fame’ shit, if that’s what it’s called, I think that’s what I want to do. I want to encourage people to talk about what’s going on for them, and Beyond Blue is just such a rock-solid foundation and does so much for so many people. I actually feel very lucky to have even been asked to be a part of anything to do with them, because they’re just good people doing good things.
MoM: You’re part of the Big Blue Table initiative: Can you talk me through that?
It’s a really cool initiative. Big Blue Table is a way to get people together, in normal situations, talking about things that they otherwise wouldn’t – like talking about your mental health over dinner is a bit of an easier space to do that. It’s a really easy thing to do, and it doesn’t have to be a big deal: You sign up, and they send you a kit with little coasters that have questions on them that you can put on the table and have a meal together.
Have a barbie, have a pizza, or just have brekkie or whatever, but the idea is to get the conversation going in a safer place: if you’re going to have someone over for dinner, chances are you’re probably open to having a bit of a chat, and even if it just provokes a little talk about how someone’s doing, that can be massively powerful.
Getting that ball rolling is hard for a lot of people, it’s like another universe, but it doesn’t have to be a big scary thing. It’s already scary enough in your head, so the actual meal doesn’t have to be, you know?
So it’s a nice way of getting people together talking about things, and people can raise a bit of money if they want, but I think it’s a really cool way to turn a safe environment into somewhere you can have an equally safe chat.
MoM: Tell me a bit about how you cope with the mental health struggles you deal with. Who do you have in your life to help support you?
I’m very, very lucky to have the support that I do. My partner Jules is, first and foremost, my biggest supporter. We work together, we do all the stuff together – it’s weird she’s not here, honestly.
I have a really wonderful therapist. I worked really hard to find them, and I think they’re a wonderful person. I have people in my business universe who are great. I always know my agent and my manager have my back, and I’m able to be fairly vulnerable with my little close universe. I’m a fairly private person these days, so it’s really cool to have some people I trust to talk about what is daily stuff. Like, this morning I had a chat a few times about what’s going on with me, and my partner is there, and reminding me that it’s all good. We hold space for each other, and I do my best to give her the same.
“I think it’s important to find people you can trust to be vulnerable with, and are able to just say the wrong thing, say the right thing, and just work it out together.”
I think it’s okay to have a chat and not have it go 100 per cent the way you wanted it to, as well. There’s no one-size-fixes-all with mental health, you know? You don’t go to a therapist and just get better, it takes time and it’s a constant journey. I’m not very good at looking after myself: I try to make it look like I am, but I’m not, I’m fucking shit at it, and there’s a constant struggle going on inside around that – but a bit of self acceptance has been good for that.
You know, just understanding that it’s gonna be tough, and it probably will be for the rest of my life, but that I can manage it. I know the things that are making it harder, and I know I’m making it harder for myself, using shit crutches like booze and staying up too late, and waking up to TikTok and shit. But I’m trying to be easy on myself about some of that stuff too, things wax and wane.
MoM: It’s also a balancing act, because often people do those things to compensate for the fact that they’re not feeling good, and if you don’t do those things you’re probably going to feel worse, because you’re just going to be stuck with those feelings.
That’s right. That’s it, and giving yourself a super hard time about not doing the perfect thing I don’t think is helpful for anyone. There’s repeat offenders in your life which may be bad for you, but you don’t need to bully yourself and call yourself a piece of shit because you had a beer or something, unless you’re a problem drinker, which changes that a bit.
But having patience for yourself is hard. Everyone wants everything now, they want to lose 100 kilos overnight, and it just doesn’t work that way. It’s a hard thing to face, and it pisses me off, but I can’t just fix it now. I started running to try to help with this stuff, and I just hated it. I kept asking myself, why the fuck am I running? But it’s because I want the war to be over sooner. It’s miserable, but you know, you do what you can.
I think it’s fine for people to go on their weird juice cleanse and do whatever they’ve gotta do to work out what works for you and what doesn’t – it’s more about the fact that you turned up for yourself and did something about it. That’s awesome, and you’re a legend for it.
MoM: You’ve actually written a few books – how did that happen? Do you plan to write more?
Yeah, I think I’ll do more if I can. It’s the weirdest thing, I can’t read books for the life of me, I’m so impatient and my brain doesn’t like focusing for too long, but I can write them.
I actually got approached by Penguin Random House. They called me during the cooking explosion and asked if I wanted to write something, and I just asked ‘what the fuck would I start writing a book’? But I went for it, and I’ve got some amazing support helping me. I’ve got some great editors who’ll tell me, ‘other dickheads have said this five times already’, and help me out, but it’s a really huge undertaking and it’s not something to be done lightly. I’ve done them very quickly, which suits me in some respects, but it fucking thrashes you.
Most people take years to write books, but the last one I wrote took me about two and a half weeks. It just flows out of me, and I can talk shit till the cows come home. When I write cookbooks, I’m constantly sending my mates recipes and asking them to make sure they translate to words properly.
But I wouldn’t be able to do it without an editor helping me. It feels kind of self-involved to have written more books than I’ve read.
MoM: Two of the books you’ve written are ‘Uncook Yourself’, and ‘What Nat to Do’, which are a bit more based on the frustrations you have around how things are in the world today. Can you tell me a bit about that? How did you decide what to focus these books on?
The other name I had for ‘What Nat to Do’ was ‘Live, Laugh, Meltdown’, which would be great on a sign. That one was pretty much an exhaustive list of the worst advice I’ve ever been given, and that goes into some mental health stuff too.
I find being told to ‘man up’ really fucking annoying. It just brushes off any conversation about what is going on, and just tells people to toughen up and deal with situations by being a boofhead, or being a stoic brick wall, which I don’t really see any value in.
I think that’s quite toxic, and I don’t think men need egging on to be aggressive boofheads anymore, or just to shut up and keep everything in anymore. We need to start talking about our issues, and telling someone to ‘man up’ doesn’t help anyone.
I have chronic sleep issues, and I’ve had plenty of sleep advice. If you’ve got an ailment, someone has a quick fix for it, and there is some shit out there for sleeping better. If I hear the word magnesium one more time I’m going to fucking loose it. I’ve tried so much weird shit, and none of it has worked.
The way I wrote all that was just walking around and talking into my phone, and then one-finger typing it all out later.
It’s weird. All the stuff I’ve done over the past few years, I look at it and I don’t really see it for what it is. This whole journey, and books and shows and whatever, I kind of feel like it’s not me doing it, and I find it hard to realise that achievement. I’m not good at that. Maybe that’s because I’m depresso-anxious-brain, but I feel undeserving of all this, and I never really register the value of the stuff I do – which isn’t ideal, it’d be nice to have a bit of a victory moment, you know?
Maybe I’m too scared of having an ego or something, but it all fucking looks cool. I’m a fucking lucky dude.
MoM: So you’re touring now, and want to be touring overseas: is there anything else you’re working on at the moment that you want to plug?
I’m building an electric drum kit at the moment. I want to get back into playing rock-and-roll, I used to play a lot, and I want to get my band shit back in order. I’m trying to get some electric-triggered cymbals happening, and soldering shit and I don’t know what I’m doing, but that’s kinda my style: fake it ’till you break it.
If you’re interested in becoming part of Beyond Blue’s Big Blue Table Initiative, visit the link below.
