The ‘Yes, chef!’ kitchen cult on TV is too much
Let’s talk about cooking shows. Specifically, that grating, military-esque chorus that echoes through almost every competitive culinary arena on TV: “YES, CHEF!”
Is it just me or does anyone else feel a primal urge to throw a spatula at the screen every time a contestant bellows that like their life depends on it? It’s not just the sheer repetition; it’s the implied subservience, the almost cult-like devotion to a person who, let’s be honest, is usually just a host or a judge with a particularly stiff foreign accent.
This exchange happened on MasterChef:
One of the judges assisted a contestant. The contestant said, “Thank you, Tiffany.” The judge, Tiffany, said, “Normally they call me “chef.”” The contestant, embarrassed, said, “Thank you, chef. Sorry, that won’t happen again.” Tiffany replied with, “I know it won’t.”
Seriously. Seriously. My reaction would’ve been, “Get over yourself, bitch,” and I’d have been kicked off the show… or walked off. There’s absolutely no reason to make me feel like less of a person just because you have a successful restaurant and I’d never heard of you until they brought you out on the first episode. Bitch.
I mean, if real kitchens actually run like that, count me out. Seriously, no thanks. The worst is when they line up all the contestants and everyone simultaneously chants it, like some sort of culinary chorus line. Get outta here with that. This isn’t the military! We’re making food, not storming a beachhead. It’s one thing to respect a boss or a person in power – absolutely, essential for any functional workplace. But, give me a break, it’s a kitchen job. We’re talking about chopping vegetables, searing proteins and not burning the béchamel. It’s hardly brain surgery, nor is it a national security operation.
Imagine if you had to do that in your everyday office. “Yes, Marketing Manager!” you’d pipe up after every instruction. Or “YES, BOSS!” every time they asked if you finished that report. You’d probably call HR, or at least wonder if you’d accidentally stumbled into some sort of corporate cult.
When these contestants are saying “yes, chef!” they’re really just addressing a job title or a position – not an actual person, let alone a deity. For example, for writing this very column, would I be expected to address our editors as, “YES, EDITOR!”? No. That’s not how functional, respectful workplaces operate.
So, whether or not that level of theatrical subservience is truly how professional kitchens run (and I strongly suspect it is not, at least not in any healthy environment), the fact that someone leading a kitchen demands that much respect for simply wearing a different color apron to indicate their level of power or authority… well, it’s a little over the top. And if I were to get any grief for not bowing down to someone just because they have a bigger toque, then fire me now. I’m not interested in working for you. I’ll happily work with you, but I am definitely not your bitch.
And of course, we can’t talk about these shows without mentioning that TV chef – you know the one. The one who screams and swears at people, shoves food into their chest when it’s wrong, and generally acts like a deranged toddler in a chef’s whites. Like that would ever fly in an actual workplace! Newsflash, Gordon: in most professional environments, that’s called assault and harassment, and it would earn you a swift termination, not a Michelin star. I don’t care how many cooking stars or designations you have; if you ever tried to treat me like that, you’d be seeing a different kind of stars when I socked you in the face. Respect is earned, not demanded through profanity and intimidation.
One other note about these shows: they love to bring on these “cooking legends” who own restaurants most of us have never heard of, only for the contestants to have a full-blown freakout over meeting someone they’ve genuinely never encountered outside of a dimly lit kitchen-god TV studio. They make it seem like chefs have some kind of profound brotherhood or instant, universal bond. It’s weird.
Again, think of any other profession: plumbers, mechanics, landscapers. Do we expect them to form an instant, tearful bond because they both know how to fix a leaky faucet or prune a rose bush? To make it seem like there’s an inherent, unbreakable connection just because you share the same profession is honestly strange.
Do I really think that celebrity chefs go to each other’s restaurants and are super supportive, offering genuinely constructive criticism and celebrating each other’s successes? Nah. They don’t want to see another chef doing better than them. It’s so strange how a chef, particularly on these reality competition shows, has some sort of god complex that’s entirely unsupported by the reality of… well, reality.
So, next time you’re watching a cooking show and someone barks “YES, CHEF!” just remember: it’s television. It’s drama. And if anyone ever demands that level of theatrical subservience from you in a kitchen, or anywhere else, feel free to respond with a polite, firm “No, thanks.” Or, if you’re feeling spicy, “Fuck off, Chef!” Hey, if he can swear at you…
