Are references truly worth the paper they are written on? In the old kitchen culture, you often had to stay until your final day of work before receiving one. That day, you might be handed an envelope containing the much-anticipated letter when making your last visit to the chef’s office. Often, it came from the administrative assistant, written on behalf of the Executive Chef. For most of us, this letter was more important than the final paycheck.
References were once as important as our business cards. Today, with social media and digital footprints, they have become less essential. Legally, a reference is only as useful as the details it can clearly provide, such as the person, place, timeline, and position held. I believe third-party legal background and social media checks can offer a clearer picture of someone’s character, while tools like predictive indexes and personality assessments focus more on a person’s future potential. With all these tools, the employer can begin to create a balanced scorecard of abilities and character.
As a young culinarian, I had a file of reference letters, one because there wasn’t an electronic file cabinet and two because this is what the industry expected. A young culinarian was “gifted” to each of the mentors and handed off to develop their career. This is where references or word of mouth can be more harmful than helpful. We have often heard that cooks’ careers stalled due to disagreements with mentors and supervisors at a given location. An employer’s opinion can often be shaped by personal preferences or personality fit.
During my time as General Manager, I worked with five Presidents, and I suspect one of them would not be my first choice for a reference. That would not be because of my job performance, but because our personalities did not align. For most of our two years together, we often agreed to disagree. Neither of us was necessarily wrong, but if asked whether he would recommend me as a future club President, he might be cautious. Beyond that personal dynamic, however, he would likely acknowledge the club’s growth and performance under my leadership. Reference letters should be about effectiveness in the role or talent, yet they are often influenced by the relationship.
Today, I meet previous culinarians who might remember me “when.” The analogy is that I am a completely different person as I aged and gained wisdom, which changed into confidence. If you wrote a reference letter for the thirty-year-old Lawrence, it might sound completely different from the reference for the fifty-year-old interviewing for a job today. Not only based on a changed personality, but also on the significance of the role I assumed.
What is Gordon Ramsay like? The number one question asked when people learn I had a professional relationship with him. “Do you want what Hell’s Kitchen promotes, or the great, soft-spoken professional I worked with?” My question seems to help adjust the balance of their perceived perception of what they thought they knew. Perception is not reality, but it is so conditioned in today’s world of impression and content overload. Annette and I work together in recruitment, and perception can be very damaging in our own professional discrimination. We are both completely different, and probability would write different reference letters for the same professional.
References should be position-specific, aligned with the industry, and focused on professional growth. While I believe references remain important to success, they should be considered alongside other inputs. Professional relationships among colleagues are also essential. I have a trusted group of culinary professionals whose opinions give me confidence when evaluating someone who has worked in their kitchens or organizations. A few high-end organizations known for developing well-rounded professionals include those led by Wolfgang Puck, Thomas Keller, José Andrés, and Daniel Boulud. In speaking with many professionals from these organizations, I have found a consistent balance between leadership expectations and the realities of artisan cooking.
In my current recruitment work, private club committees are often composed of older members. Traditionally, membership has ranged from the mid-fifties to the early seventies, and many in this group were raised to place strong value on references. For them, word of mouth carries significant weight and can sometimes have too much influence. As membership becomes younger, our company will need to adapt its materials. Like references, our process remains very paper-heavy, which still works for older committees. However, the next generation tends to read less and look for more visual information, graphs, and data about a candidate’s emotional intelligence, balance, and overall fit.
I have been asked to provide references for many reasons. One of my proudest requests was for a mentor applying to Georgetown University, when my title of Corporate Chef with Ritz-Carlton carried meaningful weight. Another important example is the Certified Master Chef application process, which I take very seriously. I am often asked for references more frequently than I agree to provide them. Over the years, I have been described as brutally honest, so I suspect some people choose not to ask me. In truth, I am risk-aware and genuinely want people to reach their full potential.
In reflection, references should be part of the puzzle. Not the final piece to a complete decision, yet not missing so that a final decision seems incomplete.
