Back in the good old days, before Top Chef and Throwdown with Bobby Flay, life was much less complicated. The front of the house consisted of bartenders, sommeliers, servers, captains, bussers, and a host and Maitre d’, the back contained dishwashers, prep- and line-cooks, chefs the partie, sous chef, and chef. And above all that loomed the GM, the General Manager.
Between front and back was the expo window, a tiny hole staring down into the bowels of the moloch that is a kitchen. Out front were the well dressed, well spoken, well paid, face of the restaurant while the back, with its underpaid, overworked, under-appreciated, riff-raff became its voice. But for the grace of the kitchen gods, a deep dedication to food, and hard, hard, labor, did we make it sing.
“Chef” was a four letter word. The demon master in the fiery, steamy, hell, that was best kept from diners and critics. His counterpart, the Archangel Michael to the kitchen’s Beelzebub, waltzed light-footed-ly around the dining halls, matiring this, and deeing that.
Of course times have changed. Chefs are stars, chefs are important. Suddenly, the very same mishpoke that would not have been caught dead in a kitchen or would have seriously considered using an icepick on whomever called them “chef”, wants a piece of the pie. Latest example – the bartender.
“The preferred term now is ‘bar chef,’ ” says Ria Freydberg, who runs the bar at Restaurant 3 in Arlington, Va. “It means, literally, you are the chef of the bar. Or ‘mixologist’ — that’s acceptable.” (emphasis mine). “Bar Chef”? Give me a fucking break. “Mixologist”? Sure, add an -ology to any quack theory and it has the potential to become a well-to-do religion or movement. What’s next? Servers are “Hospitologists”? Bussers re-arranging plates and cleaning tables are “Feng-Shui-ologists?”. And “Chef”? When did becoming a barten, pardon me, mixologist, involve working ten years from cleaning sippy-cups to finally running a brigade of shakers, stirrers, lemon- and lime-preppers, and ice-crushers? When did tending to a bar not translate to “bartender”?
That’s it. From now on, my dishwashers shall be known as Food Safety and Hospitality Experience Chefs, my prep-cooks will be Dining Advancement Chefs, the line shall be known by its jobs, “Assistant Executive Griddle and Saute Chef“, “Bakeware and Cold Dish Chef“, and so on. I’ll demote my chef to “Kitchentender“, because we don’t need that many chefs, and I’ll keep my Sous title, because I like it.
Know thy place, bartender. It’s out there, shaking stuff with stuff in it, and selling the expensive drink option to married guys trying to impress their soon-to-be mistresses with casually flung car keys bearing a German auto-maker logo. It’s not anywhere near the Toque. And it’s not an -ology. Oh, maybe one, an apology. That’d be peachy. Apologize to the guys and gals you looked down upon for decades and whose title you want to co-opt now.
Me thinks things are going a little too far in the food business. I wish they would leave us chefs alone to do our real work. We better add media relations and marketing to our job descriptions.
One historical note, first off; the term mixologist is about 150 years old. It ain’t trendy and anyone applying it to themselves damn well better be able to quote chapter & verse on the great bartenders of the 19th & early 20th centuries.
I disagree that the term “bar chef” is completely inappropriate – how else do you describe the alchemy an exceptional bartender like Eben Freeman achieves with his infusions, fat washes, etc.? – but I do agree that it’s not the generic term for a bartender any more than chef is the generic term for anyone working in a kitchen. Anyone trying to don the mantle of “bar chef” damn well better be using some intensely kitchen-driven techniques and have sweated their way up to have earned it.
As for what bartenders do, I think you are selling short the best of them. There are some truly outstanding, creative people who are not just “shaking stuff with stuff”. Neyah White of Nopa in San Francisco and Daniel Shoemaker of Teardrop Lounge in Portland come to mind immediately for not only their original drinks, but their historical knowledge and creation of ingredients from bitters to orgeat to vermouth.
I’m happy to continue the debate over some good cocktails sometime. :)
Hey Dinah,
so I’ll take the mixologist part semi-back. I still believe it’s a pretentious title, assuming some kind of academic rigor and accreditation, but I get your point. However, this should swing both ways, then…
A “chef” is, and has been for centuries, someone commanding a brigade. Their focus and skill lies in creating cohesion under stress within a dangerous and often chaotic and cramped environment, financial considerations, personnel management. The name stems from the latin word “caput” and exemplifies the “head” of a department.
We have a name for people who mix things, create dishes – cooks. If bartenders want to call themselves “bar-cooks”, that’s fine, but “Chef” is something else.
Let me give you an example in a different environment. A good opera consists of many functions – actor/singers, an orchestra led by a conductor, stage hands, sound guys and gals, lighting people, wardrobe staff, pages, and many more. One day, the sound guys decide that, thanks to Herbert Karajan, conductors are famous now. So they start calling themselves “light conductors”.
Conductors have a very specific job. It’s not a sign of excellence, but a title given to those who worked their way through a very specific environment (playing instruments, writing scores, etc.) and have earned the respect and gained the skills to lead others in doing the same. No matter how good that light guy is, regardless wether he spends nights up writing elaborate lighting schedules or developing his own light rigs – he’s a lighting engineer, not a conductor.
Same with Chefs. Chefs earn the title through years in a very specific environment being cooks. They rise to it and then have a very specific job – commanding a brigade and overseeing the production of food. I know, I know, $random_cooking_school tells people they’re training chefs, but that’s as diluting as bartenders claiming to be chefs.
Bartender is a title that stands in and by itself. If, one day, TLC or Bravo decides to have Top Bartender competitions, I am sure they’d be as peed off if my prep-cooks would call themselves “hot ingredient mixologists” or “solid state bartenders”.
My line cooks call themselves line cooks, not chefs. Why? Because there’s an insane pride in being precisely that. I make sure, more than sure, to convey the fact that I am a Sous Chef, not a chef. Again, why? Because either of the three job descriptions relate a separate skill set. That’s not a hierarchical thing, here, it’s a lateral statement of different jobs. A bartender wanting to call themselves “chef” does so in hopes to cash in on the, rather pointless and completely unrealistic, image of chef on TV and in the population. And they do so by appropriating a title that has nothing to do with their jobs.
I agree with you on one thing – there are some damn good bartenders out there. And some of them reach the level of knowledge, creativity, oneness with their ingredients and the history of their job, that rivals that of some line-cooks. I have none of that. I have a different kind of skillset, which is why I am a Sous and not a cook. And, again, I am sure if bartenders want to call themselves bar-cooks to describe a similarity between them and their functional equivalent in kitchens, much less feathers would be ruffled.
Jonas M Luster´s last blog ..Chef is a four-letter word.
Well-argued, my friend. Bar-cook it is.
Hmm, but wait, maybe there are still unanswered questions. Better have those good cocktails together just to confirm we’ve shaken down all the angles. ;)
Dinah´s last blog ..Sonoma Libre
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