The Union Club of Cleveland’s Lawrence McFadden, CMC, GM/COO, makes the case for chefs to maintain a professional dress code.
As young chefs, we were taught to focus on clean china, perfectly cut ingredients, small pools of sauce, and a variety of other visual elements. Why? Because our customers eat with their eyes. Moments after a dish is presented, our guests are then able to enjoy the scent, sound, and taste of the offering, thus completing the sensory journey.
These visual elements are symbols of quality and integrity. Much in the same way I view a chef’s jacket and toque to represented professionalism and service. Lately, I’ve seen more and more chefs leverage thier personal brand by posting images with unshaven faces, stained jackets, apronless wardrobes and alternative head coverings.
This “look” screams food safety gone amuck to me even before the journey of the volatile ingredients through a well-run kitchen.
Beyond that, the choice to don that appearance is less about food safety and more about style preference.
Maybe I’m just disappointed that our craft has lost these standards of professionalism. I believe these “visible decisions” sacrifice the impression of integrity, positive guest interpretations, and even industry pride. And what for?
Just like Hell’s Kitchen, these decisions have a far-reaching impact on the craft. Countless acquaintances ask me about today’s culinary profession, often sharing social media images as examples, when they reference the “look” of certain chefs.
Years ago, Escoffier wore a coat and tie when he arrived to work. He entered through the back door of the building, not through the lobby of his employer. He knew that a chef’s grooming was the first impression on the guest long before the brilliance of his food ever left the kitchen. He believed one must represent care and integrity by honing his own appearance.
When I moved to the front of the house, I replaced my chef’s jacket, apron, and hat with a coat and tie. The suit wasn’t comfortable, but it is the industry dress code, and, more importantly, it is how my customers expected me to dress. While the social norms for my customer had relaxed, my customer do not want us to follow them.
Look at the correlation between Thomas Keller, Daniel Boulud, Daniel Humm, and Escoffier’s clean-shaven faces and pristine brand successes. Their focus as world-class professionals is to omit negative brand misinterpretations and improve food safety in every aspect of the operation.
So, why do so many organizations accept cooks and chefs who dress and act in the name of personal expression?
Today’s excuses circle around an increasingly relaxed culture, youth in the workforce, or labor shortages that have removed instilled traditions. I would wager that a strong passionate standard will also attract just as many individuals who want to look the part and look like a team.
Location is often a disruptor. When in Florida, our uniform conundrums began during the summer months when outside temperatures reached a sticky triple-digit. During breakfast and lunch service our management staff wore golf shirts and slacks, forgoing the tie and jacket until after 5 pm when cooler temperatures prevailed. While both choices were professional, one certainly felt more professional in the customer’s eyes.
As our service staff got more casual, we noticed our guests seemed to show a touch less professional respect in the interactions. This validated the suspicion that a professionally dressed manager might secure more confidence and respect in the eyes of our customers.
A mentor once said to me, “The guest wants to know you cooked the dish, not see it on your jacket.” He taught me to “flip” the panels of my jacket when entering the dining room space. I then understood that when the environment changes so do your role within it.
Another example is the neckerchief from the early years of wide yoke ill-fitting chef jackets. This simple garment for perspiration provided a tie-like finish closer to the neck opening and framed up the culinarian.
Years later the Grand Chef Bragard jacket, with the cross collar, eliminated the neckerchief. Like Michael Jordan in new sneakers, I felt like a million bucks each day as I slipped on this jacket and felt like a true professional. That feeling has never left. In fact, I insist on tailor-made suits and shirts to this today for the very same reason.
I fell victim to a philosophical mistake during the summer of 2010 when I slipped into the same casual culture of our customers. Our company recently had embraced no specific dress code for restaurants. They allowed swimsuits in the lobby. Everyone struggled to identify our branded decorum and the emerging new customer.
That August our company President joined a few of us in the lobby. As I sat across from him in his pristine dress, I realized I was wearing my plastic runners watch, scuffed up loafers, a wrinkled golf shirt collar, and a tattered belt. It was the longest meeting of my life. While no one said anything, I knew I had been outed.
Here I was, a Hotel Manage hoping for my first GM assignment but hadn’t dressed for the part. This unannounced meeting became a pivotal moment in my career and a necessary reminder to always be on stage, to always dress the part if you want the part.
As professionals we have a responsibility to elevate our profession with every stride, every twist of a sauté pan—and every buttoned jacket or tied apron.