The harshness of cooking competitions goes beyond TV portrayals

Everybody loves when a certain furious Scottish chef picks a fight in the kitchen. Compilation after compilation has been published celebrating the internet’s most famous chef, Gordon Ramsay (“Hell’s Kitchen”). Whether over raw beef or undercooked scallops, he always finds something to yell about. While viewers may find Ramsay’s creatively aggressive insults rather hilarious, the competing chefs beg to differ. Struggling from the constant pressure of being on screen, sleep deprivation and vehement scolding (and I’m being generous here, it’s practically psychological abuse), it seems like these contestants have nothing to lean on but alcohol bottles and cigarettes to cope with their stress.

If you believe this is a tad dramatic, think again. Food and beverage make up the largest portion of the hospitality business, yet the workers in this industry, from waiters to hostesses to sous-chefs, are often treated with little empathy. “Hell’s Kitchen” and “MasterChef” may reveal the toxic kitchen culture inhabiting restaurants worldwide, but what they don’t show is how this heartless environment extends to invade workers’ lives. 

Often forced to work weekends and holidays, restaurant workers find themselves suffering from sleep disorders, damaged interpersonal relationships and social isolation. And, don’t even get me started on their benefit packages (or the lack thereof). Fueled by the fear of replaceability, workers either are too scared to take a sick day or don’t get offered them at all. Even worse, maternity leave is not even a standard at most dining establishments. What’s that? Another barrier blocking women from entering a field where men continue to hold significantly more power? No surprise there. 

The media is often compared to a funhouse mirror. We shouldn’t be reflecting a kitchen, however distorted, we wouldn’t want to be working in, right? Even though TV as a medium for entertainment can’t directly do anything about the food service industry’s nonexistent benefits or the broken culture of kitchen life, the least they can do is find a way to properly illustrate how all hospitality workers should be treated: with respect and kindness. 

Don’t take this the wrong way; I’m not trying to hate on cooking competition shows here. In fact, I love watching Food Network. As someone who has only mastered tomato egg, shrimp fried rice and pesto sandwiches, the creativity of contestants in “Chopped” or “Guy’s Grocery Games” challenges never ceases to amaze me. Food Network also does an amazing job of bringing in competitors of various cultural backgrounds and experiences, and seeing how this impacts how they combine different ingredients is always a pleasant surprise. 

Nevertheless, while watching the show, I couldn’t help but notice the disturbingly obvious need for speed emphasized throughout their filming: intense music beats, nervously fast-paced hand movements, the camera held unstably and continually zooming in and out every square foot of the kitchen and the almost palpable competition coming from the screen. Although these are typical aspects of most cooking competitions, some of which are even more intensified such as in “MasterChef” or “IronChef,” they are also reminiscent of how I felt working my first job as a counter server at the food court of my local mall. 

For an entire summer, I was bombarded by customers who complained about not having enough chicken in their already bulging plastic lunch boxes, whined about the lack of greens in their bowls and, worst of all, spent too long deciding what to get only to opt for the pizza place next door instead. My feet hurt so much, I felt disgustingly greasy all the time and the sad little tip jar remained more than half empty on the majority of the days I worked. All of this and I wasn’t nearly as stressed as the manager, whose livelihood practically depended on the wellbeing of his store. 

In “Chopped,” dishes prepared by contestants are subsequently scrutinized by a panel of judges, who then pose the anticipatory question, “Whose dish is on the chopping block?” for three rounds. Despite this supposedly being the exciting culmination of each episode, I can’t help but feel a swirl of anxiety and sadness when I watch each chef get told they are “chopped” before they dejectedly walk off-screen. Most people never get the opportunity to be an esteemed judge of culinary delights, so they’ll embody their inner Anton Ego (Peter O’Toole, “Lawrence of Arabia”) by critiquing food from the places they can afford. 

A chef’s most rewarding moment is when they get people to try their food. If it’s delicious, customers will return; if it’s absolutely rancid, they’ll not only lose a potential regular but also risk a nasty review getting posted online. Every time a customer came over and made a face at the food in the display case or came back asking for a refund because they didn’t expect their food to be so greasy, a little part of my soul withered away. Who were they to judge the hard work and care I saw the manager put into his food? I’m not saying these so-called culinary critics are arrogant imposters, but maybe I am suggesting that they are only so harsh because they watched a bit too much Food Network.

Fortunately, less cutthroat shows like “School of Chocolate” and “The Great British Bake Off” have been released in the last 15 years. Instead of the sounds of dramatic drum beats and frantic chopping, we hear whimsical orchestral music and laughter. Instead of aspiring chefs hoping to hit it big, we watch passionate amateur bakers and talented students have fun and learn to grow. Most noticeably, instead of preparing appetizers and main entrees, we only see the making of ornate, delicious desserts. Like the nature of the shows, dessert shops and cafes enjoy a slower pace and cozy, relaxing culture. It’s a shame that this calm atmosphere is confined to these spaces while restaurant workers deal with the opposite: the tediousness of living to work in a rapidly-paced environment while heeding the demands of entitled customers. 

So what can you, the average person, do to help the plight of hospitality workers in the food, or more prominently, the restaurant industry? Well, not much, if you aren’t their manager or can’t convince the producers of “Hell’s Kitchen” to tone it down. If you’re like me though, both an avid viewer and a critic of food shows, take what’s on-screen with a grain of salt (pun unintended). Also, spare a little extra to tip if you can. It can make all the difference in this world of ours. 

Daily Arts Writer Michelle Wu can be reached at michewu@umich.edu.

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