The Toxic Professional Kitchen, Some Musings

G'day, We've all seen Gordon Ramsay's TV shows and heard the rumours and accusations of screaming, abusive chefs. And yes, there are parts of what you hear and see that are very true. This is especially the case in fine dining, which seems to act as a great distiller of fiery, unstable personalities and inflated egos. As someone who worked in Michelin-starred kitchens in Copenhagen and Paris, I can verify that throughout my career I've been screamed at, been called a dog, and had food I prepared tossed across the kitchen. Perhaps because I'm rather large, I've never had a chef lay hands on me, though I've certainly stood by (very shamefully, in hindsight) while smaller co-workers be man-handled by their chef jackets on numerous occasions. I have a very odd relationship with those days and those types of kitchens. On the one hand, I can't honestly tell you I ever enjoyed going to work. In fact, most mornings, I was filled with an incredibly overwhelming sense of dread that lived in my stomach and made it damn near impossible to eat anything for breakfast. 

And yet, I would never change the experiences I had in those kitchens. On the practical side, those types of restaurants imbued me with an immense amount of technical skill and refined my craft greatly. Very unhealthily, I suppose, I also look back on those days with pride. For I do view it as some twisted badge of honour that I was able to handle those places and survive, where most would not be able to. 

It's a very odd thing trying to articulate to people who have not experienced it, how you could go through years of 16-18 hour days, verbal abuse, high stress, no sleep, no social life, no enjoyment of your work, and come out the other side feeling grateful for it and, when you are feeling particularly sentimental, even nostalgic about it. A recent study by Cardiff Business School gives some interesting context to my experiences and those like me and has some poignant insights into why we kept on working in the places we did. It's a dense read, but one passage stood out and seemed so on the nose, that I've had to include it in its entirety:

In a way, it was our version of the trenches. It was shit and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. But it also forged a brotherhood and sisterhood, that while somewhat demented, felt and still feels special in a very strange way.