WHAT DOES A CHEF LOOK LIKE?
“Are you the pastry chef?”
We’re still in a world in which, if there is a man in the kitchen, the assumption is made that he must be the chef. In Paris I was the head chef of Le Grand Bain, in an open kitchen. My team was all-female at one point and it would confuse or surprise people to see us; we would have women excited to talk to us about being a team of women, but we would also have confused faces wondering where the chef was. But why?
“Are you the pastry chef?” – the question I have been constantly asked by customers, acquaintances, delivery drivers. I write the menu, I run the pass all night, and this is the question I get? I have a lot of respect for pastry as a department but no, I wouldn’t classify myself as a pastry chef. Pastry is a skill I like to exercise because it’s a challenge – and it is also frequently undervalued expertise, perhaps also due to the perceived femininity of all but the very highest michelin-starred levels of pastry.
So many female chefs will have been asked that same question, and will have also shared my experience of joining a workplace in the hot kitchen and then found myself – the only women in the kitchen – increasingly rota’d on to pastry. My mother tells me I should be a baker or work in cakes because it’s unladylike to do whole animal butchery. Some colleagues and customers apparently share her opinions.
Once, during an interview, the journalist asked me why my food was so masculine. What does that even mean? Because the flavours and plating style weren’t delicate like he was expecting? As a woman in management, I have a double bind. I am supposed to be assertive but also soft, decisive but also communicative, strong but also delicate. I second guess myself enough as it is without the dichotomy of expectations pressed upon me by stereotypes. I can only conduct myself professionally in a way where I feel I’m being my authentic self, not what everyone needs me to be for them. There is also a double standard for humility between men and women, and I have a lot of difficulty asking to be credited for my creative input and for visibility without it being perceived as superfluous, or blatant self promotion. But the alternative is that I remain invisible.
This subtle invisibility bleeds into everything – it’s written into the system. My day is harder work: shelves being so unnecessarily high that I have to ask for help every single time I need something, or not being able to see into the top deck of my oven. And there is the discomfort, too. Company provided uniforms, even when there are a variety of sizes, are not made for women. I appreciate not having to buy workwear but I also need to feel comfortable in the workplace! The classic Carême jacket when fitted on a chef is the equivalent of a power suit and I have yet to be provided with chef whites that don’t feel like I’m playing dress up.
From the responses and attitudes that I have found over the course of my career, it seems like others think I’m playing dress-up too. Just don’t make assumptions about me or what I can do based on what I look like.
“I’d like to thank [the men in] the kitchen”
It’s a Sunday night, towards the end of a tiring six hour lunch service. An overjoyed customer wants to thank the kitchen for his meal, so Front of House point him in the direction of our open kitchen and although I’m standing at the pass, he strides straight past me, so he can thank the men in the kitchen. He’s thanking us for making his day, but he’s just ruined mine.
Maybe this doesn’t sound that bad, or maybe even quite funny. Maybe this would be less frustrating if I wasn’t running the pass, often managing a team of all male chefs during shifts. The unfortunate outcome of his lovely meal and gracious “thanks to the kitchen” left me questioning what’s the point of working so hard that weekend to ensure that tables like him and his family had the best experience, in turn giving up seeing my own friends and family. So I’d like to thank him for my existential crisis at the end of a busy weekend of shifts.
I’ve only worked in the industry as a chef for 3 years, so I’m surprised at how often I’ve encountered this. In such a short time I have such a long list of instances of being passed over: mistaken for non-chef staff, being asked to thank the chefs on their behalf as if I’m not one of them, being ignored by delivery drivers trying to get a man’s signature, called ‘darling’ or ‘love’ on the phone by suppliers, automatically assumed to be a pastry chef (even by others in hospitality), or having a customer of the older generation slapping me on the back repeatedly, saying “good girl, good girl, good girl” whilst I’m trying to roll a tart case on the window counter.
The issue is the customers’ perception of what a chef looks like. The number of female chefs is increasing, and so is their online visibility. The industry is changing, yet it seems that many of our customers are not. I can still count on one hand the number of times I’ve been thanked for someone’s meal; I almost cried the first time it happened in front of a poor woman, just trying to enjoy her dinner. You can always tell the diners who have worked in hospitality and make the effort to thank everyone equally, which is always appreciated. But how do we change the average customer to make it the norm to value – and to see – female chefs?
The Front of House team does a fantastic job advocating for the female chefs to our customers, highlighting their contributions and gently correcting misassumptions, but this responsibility shouldn’t solely rest on their shoulders. The male chefs are supportive; they are aware of the issue and laugh at how ridiculous it is. But I wonder how much they’ll ever really understand. If I’m not too tired, I can join the male chefs and laugh about these situations. I can think “how embarrassing for them” and what a good pub anecdote it will make.
I wish every time it was just an eye-roll and I moved past it, but if it’s my sixth shift, or the fourteenth hour, or if it’s the second time that week I’ve worked a double with period pains, it’s just not as easy to laugh off. The sting becomes sharper and it’s more likely to be “how embarrassing for me”. Perhaps if customers knew the doubt and upset they caused, they would be more careful with their assumptions.
So next time you want to thank the kitchen for the food, make sure you’re thanking everyone. Not just the ones that you think look like they deserve to be there.
“Don’t deny me my title”
There is absolutely a difference in the way male and female chefs are perceived, especially by the public. After taking my first head chef role at Bistro Freddie, I experienced more sexism than I ever have before in my career – mainly from men coming into the kitchen to ask for the head chef. Whether it be maintenance men, delivery men, suppliers or even male guests wanting to thank the chef, they often go straight up to my male chefs and shake their hand, assuming they must be the one in charge, often resulting in a surprised reaction when my chefs explain that I’m the one they should speak to.
There are often times that maintenance men will only look my male chefs in the eyes when explaining issues with the kitchen equipment, electricity, plumbing etc, as they assume I wouldn’t understand. Or they will only ask questions about these issues to the men in the kitchen. I have even had men come in and refer to the male chefs as “chef” and myself as pet names such as “sweetheart” or “darling”. It really infuriates me that I have worked for so long, to then be referred to by that title, and yet my male chefs are given it automatically, despite how junior they are, while I am often times denied it.
When I first took on the role of head chef, I really struggled at being comfortable with being in the press. It made me so anxious, as I’ve been told a lot throughout my career that I am very “feminine” for a female chef. I thought that would make it hard to be taken seriously, so I used to try to downplay my femininity. But the longer I’ve been in this role, the more I’ve realised that I spent a lot of my career conforming to what type of female chef men would be comfortable having in a kitchen.
I realise now that by embracing my identity as a woman in the kitchen, and showcasing it publicly, I can demonstrate to others that there is room for all types of women in kitchens, and leadership roles within them.
