I’m Derek Moreno, a Contributing Writer Intern for Just N Life, and a former Head Chef, Executive Sous Chef, and current Pastry Chef in Ann Arbor. I have been cooking for ten years, and during that time, I’ve experienced it all. I’ve worked every station, endured countless cuts, burns on my hands, arms, and face, and even caught the tips of my bangs on fire. And of course, there have been more sleepless nights than I care to admit. Equally, I’ve messed up more dishes than I’d like to remember — like burning four hotel pans of mac & cheese, costing the restaurant a couple of hundred dollars in revenue.
Anyone who has worked in restaurants will tell you the same thing — it’s hard. The hours are long, the pay is awful, and you miss holidays, birthdays, nights out with friends, family reunions, and more. On top of that, your eating habits become a matter of what you can get down in two minutes or less before the rush comes. You often rely on Red Bull or other caffeinated beverages to help you push through. Some turn to stronger substances or alcohol just to survive a busy Friday or Saturday night.
But for many chefs and cooks like myself, working in a restaurant comes from a place of love. It’s not about making a large fortune or getting our faces on the Food Network. As I’ve mentioned, chefs endure cuts, burns, sleepless nights, and early brunch mornings after working a 12 to 16-hour shift the night before — all out of love for the craft, the food, and, above all else, the guests.
In the article “Everyone’s Thirsty for The Bear — Here’s What It’s Really Like to Date a Chef” from Grub Street, written by Nastassia Lopez, the narrative suggests that all chefs are narcissistic, alcoholic, angry, obsessive, undateable degenerates. Lopez goes as far as to say, “life in restaurants is defined by raging egos, grueling hours, and zero tolerance for other people’s bullshit — qualities that do not necessarily foster supportive, devoted romantic partners.” Lopez’s claim that restaurant life is grueling isn’t invalid, but it ignores the fact that anyone willing to endure the hardships of the culinary field is someone willing to do whatever it takes to provide something special to someone else — often a stranger.
Speaking as a chef, there’s no denying that we can be an obsessive, stressed-out, angry group of individuals. We sometimes drink too much or find less-than-ideal ways to get through a 10 to 16-hour shift. We yell, we throw things — but truth be told, we’re not always like that. A lot of times, we are young and inexperienced, and don’t how to handle the pressure. As we mature — like in any career driven by passion — our “why” becomes clearer. For many of us, we cook because we want to take care of others. We cook on our days off for family, friends, or that special someone because that’s what we do; cooking is how we express our love. To date a chef requires understanding that our obsession is a deeply rooted need to care for those who allow us into their hearts.
Cooking becomes an open-door expression of our souls. For some of us, our food is a gateway to who we are and the life we’ve lived — our experiences and often the people who have shaped them. Making pasta from scratch might highlight the time a chef spent learning in a fine dining kitchen or the time they spent vagabonding across Italy with only a few hundred dollars to their name — or, in many cases, is a way to impress someone they like. Our favorite dish to make might be the very first dish we learned in a restaurant, or from our grandma, mother, father, or the person who made us fall in love with cooking.
Lopez does acknowledge some of the good qualities of dating a chef: “Your fridge will be full of incredible condiments and tinned seafood… and I’ve been lucky to have chefs in my life who packaged dinners for my little sister when she went back to college, sent sheet trays of homemade lasagna to friends who’d lost a family member, and sat quietly at a barbecue where they didn’t know anyone just because they were happy to see me having a good time. It’s true that some chefs are even able to stay in healthy, committed relationships.” Despite Lopez’s acknowledgment of some good moments she’s had dating chefs, the article as a whole, feels more like a warning than an honest, true depiction of it really means to date a chef.
My friend and mentor, 2016 James Beard Nominated Chef Jody Brunori, described the article as “rowdy.” “While this article is totally relatable in many of the proposed situations, there are so many of us in this profession who declare ourselves as the proverbial ‘bad ass’ in the thick of the moment,” she said. “At the end of the day, when the last counter is wiped down and the clean floors are glistening, a familiar face and a feeling of content is really all we seek. Most of us find that with the person anticipating our ‘end of shift.’”
Perhaps the takeaway from this article should not be that chefs are undateable due to the nature of our industry, but rather that we care too much. It takes a special someone to allow us to express our love, even when it’s not always so clear. To recognize our passion, our desire, our deep need to love and to be loved, while enduring the rigors of an unforgiving industry. To wait up for us when we have to stay late because a cook or a dishwasher didn’t show up. To understand us in a way that, at times, we seem to be misunderstood by the world.
What’s it really like to date a chef? Well, truth be told, it varies from person to person. But making assumptions about us might mean missing out on someone who has a lot of love to give.
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