NBC’s new cooking competition show Yes, Chef! is unlike anything we’ve seen on network television. Twelve of the country’s most talented chefs—known not just for their food, but for their egos, intensity, perfectionism, and control issues—compete for a $250,000 prize. But there’s a twist: this isn’t just a battle of flavor. The chefs are nominated by people close to them, and they’re being judged not only on their dishes, but also on their willingness to grow. The winner must prove they can work with others and let go of what’s been holding them back.
After just one episode, it’s clear some chefs are more open to change than others. Chef Katsuji Tanabe, a veteran of Top Chef, Chopped, and Bobby’s Triple Threat, has already stirred tension in the kitchen. Nominated by his business partner, his arrogance and manipulative tactics only reinforce the perception of toxic kitchen culture, and why this show feels both timely and necessary.
In recent years, television has made the inner world of chefs more visible—and more complicated. Once, culinary personalities like Julia Child and Emeril Lagasse brought joy, accessibility, and theatrical flair to the kitchen. Then came Gordon Ramsay. His early BBC documentary Ramsey’s Boiling Point offered a raw look into the pressure cooker of opening his first restaurant, revealing a brilliant but volatile chef chasing perfection at all costs—an early and vivid portait of what we now recognize as toxic kitchen culture.
That image has stuck. Shows like The Bear and films like Burnt starring Bradley Cooper, have only reinforced the archetype: the obsessive, temperamental chef who sacrifices everything—including kindness—in the pursuit of greatness.
But there are counterexamples. In Chef (2014) directed by Jon Favreau, his character, Carl Casper, leaves a toxic fine-dining kitchen behind to rediscover his love for cooking on a food truck. He travels cross-country with his son and sous chef, making Cuban sandwiches, having fun, and finding joy again in the act of feeding people.
Even Burnt—a film that leans hard into the “tyrant in the kitchen” trope—softens by its final act. Bradley Cooper’s character Adam Jones slowly learns to trust others, evolving from dictator to collaborator. The message is clear: perfection isn’t leadership. Growth is. A rare cinematic break from toxic kitchen culture.
Yes, Chef! builds on this cultural shift. It’s not just about acknowledging the darker side of restaurant kitchens—it’s about breaking the cycle. By creating space for chefs to reflect, to change, and to let others in, the show becomes something more than a competition. It’s a conversation.
As host José Andrés says in the series premiere, “You’re only as good as your last dish.” Maybe that’s true. But Yes, Chef! suggests you’re also as good as your last decision—and your willingness to grow.
Of course, old habits don’t die easily. In the first episode, Chef Katsuji’s tactics led to the early elimination of Chef Petrina Peart, and despite her talent, wasn’t given the opportunity to truly prove herself. This moment show just how drama and ego are still very much alive in the competition.
But that’s what makes Yes, Chef! feel different. At first glance, it might seem like just another show fueled on chaos. But look closer, and you’ll see something more intentional. The show doesn’t glorify the chefs flaws—their perfectionism, control, or stubbornness. It chellenges them to change. Not through shame, but through accountability.
Yes, Chef! isn’t about ridicule—it’s about responsibility. It doesn’t excuse toxic kitchen culture, but it dares to imagine something better. It asks: Can you change? Can you lead with care?
Twelve chefs. One prize. And maybe—for the first time on reality TV—a chance to redefine what success in the kitchen really means.
Yes, Chef! airs Mondays at 10 p.m./9 p.m. CT on NBC and streams the next day on Peacock.
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