WHAT DOES THE WORD 'CHEF' EVEN MEAN ANYMORE?

This is The Spill, a new series on Eat Like a Man where chefs, food writers, restaurateurs, policy makers—anyone who has something vital, incendiary, or earth-shattering (or just kind of amusing) to say about the food world today—can write what’s on their mind. If you work in the food industry and are interested in writing for The Spill, please send your ideas to spill@esquire.com.

People are growing weary of the word “chef.” Lately, it’s been used to sell everything from canned soup to fast food pizza. Some argue it’s no different than using the word to raise cooking show ratings. There are others who think the word is a by-product of an exclusionary boy’s club and then those who just think it is self-ingratiating. I’m no purist who bemoans the days when being a “chef” really meant something, but I cringe at articles like the one written by the usually brilliant Robert Sietsema who protests against having to address cooks with the honorific “chef.”

I apprenticed in kitchens during a time when the word was reserved for the utmost reverence and authority. It was a word I coveted and feared. Without having gone to cooking school, I never got handed a degree with my name on it. So for me, working my knuckles to the bone was my way of earning the right to be called a chef. And I still believe that the title of “Chef” represents the highest form of professional craftsmanship and artistic expression.

The irony now is I don’t care what people call me—as long as it’s not asshole. I don’t insist—and honestly, I don’t know any chef who does—that people refer to me as “Chef.” It happens, and that’s fine. To my cooks, it is a form of respect. And for the general public, they get a kick out of it. Who am I to be contrarian? But what is left of the word now that we’ve exhausted it?