Has the open kitchen killed the ego chef?

Next time you eat at a restaurant, take a look around. Can you see the chef? Chances are they’ll be sweating publicly by the hearth. It is unlikely that they will be swearing or shouting. Such pleasantries were a rarity when I was waiting tables a decade ago. Most of the kitchens I worked in were in windowless basements – breeding grounds for some nasty tempers. Horrors ranged from raised voices and smashed plates to, on one occasion, an airborne panna cotta. I doubt a chef would throw a pudding in an open kitchen.

“I always knew that if I could open a restaurant, I would make the kitchen open,” says Chris Leach, chef-founder at Shoreditch restaurant Manteca, where chefs roll pasta, slice salumi and fire up the grill in full view of customers. The layout has made a direct impact on the way Leach’s staff treat each other: “The relationship between the front and back of house is very healthy,” he says. “That’s because of the way they work together.”

Much of Leach’s desire to create a kinder kitchen came from his experiences of working in places “ruled by fear”. Likewise, Charles Pearce, executive chef at Piedmont hotel Nordelaia, has “learned the hard way”. Lorto, the hotel’s “relaxed fine dining restaurant”, places the large, pink-tiled kitchen in the centre of the room. “We have so many guests who say it’s amazing to watch us work,” says Pearce. “Everyone knows what they’re doing, there’s minimal talking – just eye contact. It’s like a dance, like theatre.”

Nearly 50 per cent are women. That has transformed the energy

Open kitchens as we know them have been around since the 1980s, when breakfast bars at home became fashionable and Wolfgang Puck opened Spago in Beverly Hills. Other iterations can be traced back to the 1900s, when the first American diners moved from lunch wagons to brick-and-mortar restaurants. They are a different breed to counter restaurants – intimate spaces where all of the seating borders the kitchen – but can be equally focused on entertaining and showcasing thoughtful design. At Bar Bludorn in Houston, chefs plate up under spotlight-like lights. At La Mercerie in New York, the serene, watery-blue kitchen is the work of cult design duo Roman and Williams. And at Soho’s Dear Jackie, chefs cook behind an extravagant red curtain atop Giallo Siena Marble countertops – “a far cry from commercial stainless-steel kitchens with sharp edges,” says head chef Harry Faddy.

For Rambutan founder Cynthia Shanmugalingam, the open kitchen in her restaurant is a nod to Sri Lanka, its inspiration. “There are relatively few South Asian restaurants with open kitchens in London,” she says. “If you go to Sri Lanka or to the south of India, people cooking on the street is an amazing thing to see.” Basement kitchens seem to be more of a Western invention. In most other food cultures – be it a sushi countertop in Japan or a Mexican taco truck – most of the cooking is visible. 

Jean Whitehead, author of Creating Interior Atmosphere, has followed the rise of “environmental psychology” in design projects, spaces built with human experience in mind. “Design is increasingly concerned, not just with the creation of physical space, but with psychological space,” she says, pointing to Maggie’s cancer centres, where informal kitchens are placed at the heart of each building to “set users at ease”. But Whitehead also highlights the “deliberate voyeurism” of open kitchens, drawing a comparison with Jeremy Bentham’s Panopticon. “Is there an aspect of Big Brother in the design of the open kitchen, of generalised surveillance encouraging better behaviour?” she asks.

The rise of open kitchens chimes with a positive step for the restaurant industry more generally. Shanmugalingam, Leach, Pearce and Faddy all point to the “tough recruitment climate”: after lockdown, an estimated 40 per cent of hospitality workers left the sector in the UK alone. The industry needed a shake-up. “That sort of Anthony Bourdain cliché is no longer what defines chefs in modern restaurants,” says Shanmugalingam. “Rambutan isn’t built around super cheffy chefs – it’s a new generation. They’re more emotionally intelligent; they’re kinder to each other; nearly 50 per cent are women. That has transformed the energy.” 

But open kitchens don’t mean the death of egos entirely; performative cooking can bring a sense of achievement. “To cook pasta for an audience and see how that dish brings joy to the guests is an infinite source of excitement,” says Victor Lugger, co-founder of Big Mamma Group and its design company Studio Kiki, which owns restaurants with open kitchens across Europe. “Ask any chef who has worked in an open kitchen; they’ll agree they feel like a rock star.” Adds Manteca’s Leach: “they’re able to show off – and I mean that in the best sense. It adds pride to what they’re doing.”

“Obviously there are guests who don’t pay attention,” says Rafael Cagali, chef-owner of Da Terra in Bethnal Green, where the dining space is laid out like an eat-in kitchen. “They’re either on the phone or they’re with a mate. But that’s the beauty of our industry: we’re adaptable.” Cagali provides extra training to give his staff confidence, to handle customers without getting flustered. Still, he admits a lack of awareness from guests can be “frustrating”. 

Perhaps a better question, then, is does an open kitchen make us a kinder diner? Recently I sat at the kitchen counter of a restaurant and ate something truly revolting. “What do you think?” asked the dish’s maker. “Delicious,” I replied. After all that I’ve witnessed, why would I argue?