Real Life in the Kitchen

Saying What Chefs Are Thinking but Can’t Always Say Out Loud

By Jeffrey R. Gear
President – Australian Institute of Technical Chefs (AITC / TChefs)

There is a version of the kitchen the world applauds — polished plates, awards nights, smiling teams, and perfectly timed service. And then there is the kitchen chefs actually live in.

This article is not about the highlight reel.
It is about the reality behind the swing doors.

Because chefs are tired of pretending that everything is fine when it isn’t. And they are even more tired of being expected to carry that weight in silence.

The Kitchen Is a Pressure Environment — Not a Romance Novel

Cooking has been romanticised to the point of distortion.

Television shows compress years of discipline into 45 minutes of drama. Social media celebrates the finished plate but ignores the cost of getting there. What’s rarely acknowledged is that kitchens are high-pressure operational environments where mistakes matter, time is unforgiving, and expectations rarely soften.

Chefs don’t walk into work wondering if they’ll be tested — only how.

And yet, we still hear:

• “It’s just food.”
• “It’s not that hard.”
• “You chose this.”

What people don’t see is that kitchens demand constant vigilance — mental, physical, and emotional. There is no pause button when you are feeding hundreds of people, managing dietary risks, leading staff, controlling budgets, and meeting compliance requirements simultaneously.

This is not just work.
It is responsibility.

The Mental Load No One Sees

Chefs don’t clock off mentally when they leave the building.

They lie awake thinking about:

• Whether the allergen process was followed correctly
• Whether the roster will collapse tomorrow
• Whether the delivery shortfall can be managed
• Whether the apprentice is coping
• Whether the resident who barely ate today will eat tomorrow

The kitchen follows chefs home — quietly, persistently.

This mental load is rarely acknowledged because it doesn’t show on a timesheet. But it is real, and it accumulates.

Feeding People Is Not Neutral Work

Chefs — especially in health, aged care, and community settings — are not simply producing meals. They are sustaining lives.

Food is comfort.
Food is memory.
Food is dignity.

When a resident with dementia recognises a flavour from their past, that matters. When a vulnerable person eats safely because the chef took care, that matters. When someone feels respected because their cultural or personal preferences were honoured, that matters.

And when chefs are rushed, understaffed, or unsupported, they feel that responsibility acutely.

This is why chefs take shortcuts personally — because every shortcut risks someone else’s wellbeing.

Burnout Lives Quietly in Kitchens

Burnout doesn’t always look dramatic.

Often it looks like:

• A chef who stops mentoring
• A leader who becomes withdrawn
• A professional who loses joy in food
• Someone who says, “I’m fine,” while running on empty

Chefs are conditioned to endure. The culture has long rewarded toughness and silence. Asking for help has often been seen as weakness.

But let’s be clear:

Burnout is not a failure of resilience.
It is a failure of systems to support the people holding them together.

If we don’t talk about it honestly, we lose good chefs — not to other jobs, but to exhaustion.

The Hidden Cost of Being “Reliable”

Many chefs reading this are the ones who always show up.

They cover shifts.
They fix problems.
They absorb pressure.
They keep the wheels turning.

And because they are reliable, more weight is quietly added to their shoulders — until one day they are carrying far more than their role ever intended.

Reliability should be respected — not exploited.

Public Holidays, Missed Moments, and the Things We Don’t Say

There is a quiet grief in hospitality that no one prepares you for.

Christmas mornings spent in uniform.
Birthdays celebrated late — or not at all.
Family events missed because “service comes first.”

Chefs rarely voice this because the job has always demanded sacrifice. But acknowledging sacrifice does not diminish professionalism — it honours it.

When chefs raise a glass at the end of a long service, it is often in quiet recognition of what — and who — they’ve missed.

That deserves respect.

Staffing Shortages Are Not a Leadership Failure

Chefs are often blamed for team struggles that are structural, not personal.

The reality is:

• Recruitment is harder
• Skill gaps are wider
• Training takes time that kitchens don’t have
• Retention is fragile when pressure is constant

Chefs want to train properly. They want to mentor. They want to build strong teams.

But leadership cannot exist in a vacuum.

When chefs are expected to compensate endlessly for systemic shortages, the kitchen becomes a place of survival rather than growth.

Paperwork, Compliance, and the Shift Away from the Stove

Modern chefs are navigating a world that demands far more than cooking.

Digital systems.
Audits.
Policies.
Documentation.
Evidence of evidence.

Standards matter. Safety matters. Accountability matters.

But chefs are not frustrated by what is required — they are frustrated by how it is implemented, often without adequate training, time, or understanding of kitchen realities.

Chefs want compliance frameworks that work with them — not systems that assume failure.

Pride Has Not Left the Profession

Despite everything, chefs still care deeply.

They still:

• Taste everything
• Fix plates before service
• Notice when standards slip
• Take pride when food is enjoyed

That pride has not disappeared — it has simply been tested by years of pressure, change, and under-recognition.

And it is worth protecting.

What Chefs Are Really Asking For

Chefs are not asking for praise without substance.

They are asking for:

• Respect for their professional judgement
• A seat at the table when decisions are made
• Systems designed with kitchen input
• Realistic expectations
• Leadership that listens before it directs

Most of all, they want to be treated as skilled professionals doing meaningful work — not as a cost centre to be managed.

This Is Not a Complaint — It Is a Statement of Truth

Naming reality is not negativity.
It is the first step toward improvement.

If we want safer food, stronger teams, better dining experiences, and sustainable careers, we must stop pretending that kitchens are coping when many are barely holding on.

Chefs have always adapted.
They have always endured.
But endurance should not be the only expectation.

To Every Chef Reading This

If you are tired, it does not mean you are weak.
If you feel unheard, it does not mean you are invisible.
If you still care, it means you belong here.

This profession has survived because of people like you — not because it was easy, but because it mattered.

It is time we speak honestly about the pressures chefs face — and it is time we listen with intent, not defensiveness.

Because when chefs are supported, respected, and understood, the entire system improves.

And that is something worth fighting for.