Inside The Momo Premier League: Competitive Eating Gets A South Asian Spin

With a deep sorrow in my heart, I regret to inform you that skinny culture is back. Not in the overt, early-2000s way of calorie charts and diet coke sermons, but dressed up as irony — memes about “missing waists,” that pretend to mock but also reinforce it, and the steady creep of ‘SkinnyTok’ and ‘what I eat in a day’ trends. It’s casual, self-aware, and therefore harder to call out. Even as everyone claims allegiance to body positivity and their devotion to ‘thick baddies, ’ the old regressive body standards haven’t gone anywhere; they’ve simply been rebranded. Alongside it, a parallel cult around self-optimisation — looksmaxxing, gym-fundamentalism, eating disorders masked as macro-counting — has pulled men into the same matrix.

Fighting this in the digital discourse is a love and appreciation for food in the form of mukbangs, and a love for dad-bods that women drool over, but men with abs just fail to comprehend. Somewhere on this spectrum is competitive eating, which not only radiates a love for food but turns it into a sport. Events like the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest in New York City — dominated for years by figures like Joey Chestnut — have built entire mythologies around this idea as a ritual; July 4th, a stage, a crowd, and a collective appreciation and understanding that excess, for once, is the point. It’s grotesque, impressive, and strangely liberating.

An extension of the same celebration is emerging in Australia, within the Nepali diaspora’s food festivals, as a Momo Premier League. Tied to events like Melbourne’s Himalayan dumpling gatherings, the competition is exactly what it sounds like: timed rounds, escalating stakes, and a cash prize — reportedly around $3,000 — for those who can out-eat the rest. Organised as part of broader cultural festivals that aim to “bring people together through the power of momo,” the tournament features 8 teams and multiple rounds, showcasing incredible speed, with finalists reaching upwards of 75 momos in one sitting. The event is organized by a marketing agency called Bloom Dots and backed by partners like WorldRemit, and Rice Spice Dice, including 8848 Momo House which was founded by Hom Pyasi, a Nepali entrepreneur from Lamjung. The league is filmed like a reality show and presented as a YouTube series with a sumptuous amount of fun and drama. 

I come from a family of the yin of my mum fat-shaming me, and the yang of my dad, who saw a big appetite as a sign of health, priding himself on the number of parathas he could house at lunch. So watching a desi competitive eating series fills me with hope of a heartiness that we as South Asians can’t ever let go of when it comes to food; our own magic totem against fat-phobia. Especially in matters of momo — a source of comfort for people around the world, be it a fine dining mothuk or your favourite street-side stall after a day at work. I have fond memories of spending my evenings with my friend Sameer in Hyderabad, at his favourite spot in Madhapur, chatting away over endless momos, and we can both assure you it tastes much, much better than how “skinny feels".

Follow Momo Premier League here.

If you enjoyed reading this, here's more from Homegrown:

Homegrown Cafés Are Doing The Most With Mango This Summer, And We Love It

Chaat Dog: NYC’s Latest Street Food Offering Is A Triumph Of The City’s Immigrant Culture

Shan Food’s April Fool's 'Panupuri Cola' Wasn’t Real, But We Really Wanted It To Be