Culinary

For me, it never felt like “work” because of my family’s support. Even with long hours and missed family milestones, I saw it as an investment in my future career. Both of my parents had careers they didn’t consider “work” either. A career, to me, is all-consuming—it weaves into every part of your being and keeps you dreaming of its potential. My efforts were aimed at providing educational opportunities and social advantages for my family.

The idea of “work-life balance” can be tricky for chefs, especially when it comes to physical separation from family. I remember the early days in the kitchen—once you stepped through that back door, you were cut off from the outside world. Some of us even slept in the kitchen. Our brigade was like a fraternity, a source of energy and camaraderie. The discipline and military-like structure shaped our character, much like military service has done for generations.

This sense of purpose eased the anxiety that could come from the long hours. Those who struggled with it often lacked a clear culinary direction or passion. Sometimes, when chefs speak about their love for the kitchen, it can come across as selfish. Success in this industry requires intense focus, almost a form of tunnel vision. As Chef Norman Van Aken says, “The industry selects you, not the other way around.”

Most chefs will say, “I wouldn’t be successful without my family,” and what they mean is that mental separation is different from physical absence. Those who find success manage to be present, emotionally and spiritually, for their families when they’re not physically present. Greatness in anything takes time, whether it’s your profession or your family. Life is never perfectly balanced; it’s about compromise.

Today’s youth face the challenge of constant social pressures, feeling the need to balance everything all the time. They miss the bigger picture—life is about prioritizing over time, not achieving balance every day. This pressure to be perfect, especially in time management, can create fear before life teaches patience.

Recently, I interviewed a Michelin-starred chef who was considering a private club job. When we discussed balance, he mentioned wanting to come home at 10 p.m. instead of 1 a.m. Without asking, I might have assumed he wasn’t willing to put in a full day. It reminded me of my first trip to China in the late ‘80s, when I told my wife, “I’ll see you when I return.” With no cell phones, Skype, or Zoom back then, communication was limited to postcards, which often arrived after I had already returned. That was a different kind of loneliness—one born of physical separation and communication challenges.

But you can also feel lonely at home, even when surrounded by family. Balance is a mental choice, a decision to engage and spend quality time with those around you. We all have that choice, but many don’t see it when they head into the kitchen every day. Maybe those who work from home discovered more about balance during the pandemic. Now that I work from home, I miss the energy of my staff, but that’s just another compromise.

One of my favorite quotes is, “Ask a busy person for help—there’s a reason they’re busy.” Being busy comes in phases, and no schedule is ever seamless. True balance comes from how we engage with those around us. Regardless of work schedules, we have the power to make a positive impact. I share this with young professionals, and it’s often a relief for them to hear.

In my first Executive Chef position, I took most Sundays off. I hired an Executive Sous Chef who took over Sundays, and this wasn’t just about family—it was about teaching him to set his own priorities. Leaders must teach their teams the importance of setting priorities because great businesses never slow down.

Later in my career, I worked under a selfish, insecure boss whose demands affected my health. It’s an experience many can relate to. I eventually had to leave that job, but timing those moves carefully builds a better reputation.

When I present to culinary students, I describe my career as a pyramid. At 18, I spent most of my time on the physical demands of the job because that’s all I had to offer. As I gained skills, I shifted from physical to mental work, focusing on delegation, accountability, and leadership. The kitchen is still a physical job, especially during peak seasons, but the thrill of creation and mentorship helps chefs push through.

My career includes 15 years of growth and seven years as an actual Executive Chef. Many students are surprised to hear that. Leadership isn’t about titles—it’s about who you work with and for. Mentorship is where I’ve found the most joy, and I’ve been lucky to be mentored by incredible club members. True professionals don’t have endless time, but they prioritize what’s important to be the most effective.

Club + Resort Chef – October 2024

Lawrence T. McFadden, CMC, ECM is a food and beverage training consultant and search executive with KOPPLIN KUEBLER & WALLACE, a consulting firm providing executive search, strategic planning and data analysis services to the private club and hospitality industries.

“Lawrence, did you look, or did you see?” the chef yelled.

He valued my eye for detail and was always focused on “finding proactive resolutions.” It was a perfect example of balancing our love for cooking with the less passionate aspects of the job. It resonated with Stephen Covey’s advice: “Focus on the twenty percent that will get you the eighty.” Prioritizing the most important tasks is essential because chefs love to be “hands-on,” yet there’s always more to juggle.

This concept often surfaces in interviews when committee members ask Executive Chef candidates, “How much time do you spend cooking versus handling administrative work?” It’s a fair question for those who’ve never been in the kitchen or only watch the Food Network. The truth is, the answer changes daily—sometimes even hourly. With careful planning and delegation, chefs can balance both roles effectively.

When celebrity chef Michael Voltaggio visited our kitchen, I told him to be a cook for as long as possible. Cooking was his first love, and we both knew that the further up you move, the more cooking becomes a privilege. His visit motivated our kitchen to be in the “right place at the right time,” which means, “do what you’re paid to do.” When a Sous Chef chose to cut vegetables instead of managing, we’d say, “those are some expensive vegetables.” It was a playful way of reminding them of their value and role in the kitchen’s success.

Prioritization also comes into play when asking, “Did you check the restaurant during or between service?” The difference between being effective and merely completing a task is critical. We wanted our leaders to be the second set of eyes—observing, determining solutions, and bailing the line out when needed. Actions like these build trust and loyalty during overwhelming moments.

Every day, our team had individual schedules that ended differently. Priorities determined what could be delegated, what was non-negotiable, and what required risk-taking to achieve the desired outcome. This is where the phrase “start with the end in mind” came from.

Our management approach involved assigning tasks with a defined backup plan. The philosophy is that all tasks are important, but priorities can change. One thing to avoid delaying is meetings, as they often involve strategic vision. When meetings are held, there must be a chef present; otherwise, the kitchen’s proactive voice is lost. To prevent this, we ensured that two chefs could interchangeably cover meetings, as business was always a priority.

All effective leaders grapple with demands on their time, often repeating the saying: “Ask a busy person for help—there’s a reason they’re busy.” These leaders become demanding taskmasters of themselves first. Leadership is lonely, something most don’t understand until they ascend.

In highly functioning organizations, each department has its own priorities. When these are brought together in leadership meetings, the entire company aligns around a shared mission. These sessions are vital for eliminating siloed thinking and building trust within the culture.

Starting as cooks, we measured satisfaction through our results. These task-based activities got us promoted, but as Executive Chefs, we had to balance today’s needs with planning for tomorrow. Our success at that balance formed the foundation of a positive culture.

Culture, that elusive and often misunderstood word, is not just a “soundbite” or a “band-aid” for tough discussions. Many don’t know its true definition or haven’t experienced a strong, vibrant culture. It cannot be created out of thin air or changed easily. No one individual is solely responsible, yet everyone participates. Those who have worked in great cultures know that you simply follow its rules.

For an Executive Chef, measuring effectiveness within a culinary culture means prioritizing the staff, being in the right place, supporting others, and honing the craft. Without a great daily product, future strategies are useless.

In closing, effective leadership is like the great conundrum of “work-life balance.” It’s about adapting around the unexpected while managing a proactive, measured plan—and doing it each and every day.

Club + Resort Chef – October 2024

Lawrence T. McFadden, CMC, ECM is a food and beverage training consultant and search executive with KOPPLIN KUEBLER & WALLACE, a consulting firm providing executive search, strategic planning and data analysis services to the private club and hospitality industries.

Executive Chefs and their members often have different perspectives on “food quality.” For chefs, the conversation centers around quality ingredients, as Auguste Escoffier knew these influenced taste. For members, it begins with “I like,” bringing emotions, preferences, and memories into the discussion. Both groups, however, place food quality satisfaction at the heart of the debate.

Food quality is defined as a sensory property that includes appearance, taste, nutritional value, health benefits, and safety. In short, it speaks to the critical mental attributes that affect consumer choices.

Interestingly, both chefs and members share a mutual love for “street food.” Why? Because you can hear, see, smell, and even touch your food before the first bite, building anticipation like a Heinz Ketchup commercial.

The humble yet complex burger is a perfect culinary example. An American classic that captures our hearts and minds before ever reaching our mouths. Before tasting, we assess its size or weight, the right mouth stretch, and the juiciness as it drips down the chin, finalizing the all-important messiness with extra napkins—a part of its folklore.

This builds a first-bite sensation, overwhelmingly searching for temperature, salt, fat, or sugar. Once those are satisfied, the palate begins investigating deeper flavors. These triggers demand that we slow down, savor, and enjoy our meals. Like cooking, we can appreciate the nuances of a dish as we eat.

With these subjective challenges, how do some clubs create better member satisfaction? Knowing that members’ minds play a significant role, we broke down some “norms” that can secure a more positive perception. These must work in harmony with the tongue to maximize emotions.

Price
Food pricing creates expectations. Americans often focus on portion size first and then quality. Plate size plays a role in securing value perception, as does the ratio of protein to other components. Our culture typically resists high prices unless related to prime meats, fish, or specialty game. Fast food, especially “super-sizing,” has driven the perception that food should be cheap.

Deconstruction
Dining out has increasingly become about individual preferences, often involving removing ingredients or placing them on the side. Orders typically start with allergies, then health conditions, and lastly, dislikes. It wasn’t long ago that people ate prepared salads like chicken or tuna; now, all salads are made a la minute, or delivery speed slows down. Saying “no” to modifications risks a low perception of food quality.

Menu Description
In menu writing, always start with the main “star” of the dish. List the majority portion first, then move down the list of ingredients in descending order. Descriptions should be limited to essential details to convey the dish’s concept quickly. Avoid lengthy descriptions or adjectives that make diners feel they are reading a thesaurus.

Speed or Pace
Pace is vital to positive expectations. Members have a breaking point, especially at the meal’s beginning. This is why bread, drinks, and the first course arrive quickly, building confidence. Losing confidence in quick and simple items means spending time making up for it. When creating menus, chefs must count the steps for each preparation. Simple weekly changes shouldn’t require complete muscle memory reinvention.

Visual Expectation
Diners and fast-food establishments use pictures to set strong visual expectations of value. People eat with their eyes first, creating expectations even before ordering. While in China, my perception of menu pictures became increasingly comfortable, subliminally measuring expected portions while directing how hungry I was. An example is the member who sends back their dish before ever tasting it because the menu description or classic idea was not delivered to their mental expectations.

Childhood Memory
While mom’s meals weren’t the best, they are emotionally revered. These classics age well and, for a club, must come close to the size, texture, and taste once remembered. Soup viscosity is a classic example in clubs—thick over thin presents value to most age groups. Garnishes should be ample, fit on the spoon, and served hot. Anything less and memories are lost, resulting in average taste. All classic “titled” dishes must follow classic ingredients or change the title. Childhood foods secure more than taste, offering comfort and security from a vulnerable time in life. Condiments significantly influence, as dipping or spreading habits are favorable. We must pay attention to members “building” their foods, like burgers, hot dogs, or ice cream with branded labels.

Taste
The first bite begins with a clean palate, anticipation, and desire for what you are eating. Remember, you ordered it, so you are measuring your ability to make the right choice. We then move to fat, acid, sweet, and salt, highlighted in most palates. The human tongue can only handle a limited number of tastes, so the first and last sensations drive satisfaction. Condiments built with fats carry these flavors, enrobe the mouth, and allow ingredients to linger longer in the tongue’s flavor zones. Surprisingly, spicy is not one of the big three due to the various degrees of heat. Condiments help clean the heat up or even allow a maximum heat sensation. Fast food companies call this “smothering.” Chicken wings, for example, are breaded, fried, tossed with butter-based hot sauce, and served with mayonnaise-based dressings. Layers of fat play a role in carrying heat.

In conclusion, while taste lingers emotionally—long after price, portion, or speed—if you want to measure “food quality,” you must review all considerations. Don’t be misled; taste is crucial and drives the emotions of returning for another bite. However, satisfaction starts very early in the decision-making process.

We made t-shirts for the catering team with the slogan, “Taste is remembered long after price is forgotten.” Talk to anyone who can describe the perfect fried chicken but can’t recall the exact price. Ultimately, they justify any expense as worth it.

Club + Resort Chef – August 2024

Lawrence T. McFadden, CMC, ECM is a food and beverage training consultant and search executive with KOPPLIN KUEBLER & WALLACE, a consulting firm providing executive search, strategic planning and data analysis services to the private club and hospitality industries.

In 1985 at the Greenbrier, our Sous Chefs wore shirts and ties under their chef’s jackets. They were adorned with black pants, cloth-starched hats, and no aprons, creating a visual separation between our union members and salaried leadership. This may have been a tradition stemming from the resort’s famed Food Director, Herman Rusch, who wore a coat and tie to the office, replacing one jacket with another.

Two years later, the resort hired a new Executive Chef, Hartmut Handke. He arrived in a crisp chef’s jacket, checkered pants, neckerchief, apron, and no hat. What stood out most was that he wore an apron, signaling an active, hands-on approach to culinary education that quickly became our new normal. Sous Chefs soon followed his lead, adding hats while cooking alongside the staff.

There are several professions where uniforms are synonymous: military, fire, police, doctors, and at one time, the classic mailman. These uniforms have been cherished for as long as the professions have existed. However, we now question whether they are still important to the positive perception of these professions, given that dress codes in society have become such a personal choice.

My partners and I often discuss changing habits or times, challenging ourselves with, “Are we just getting old?” We recognize that we might not always be right and that it’s possible to get stuck in the past, outdated, or, conversely, to be proud of change.

In my desire to inspire, influence, and inspect, I recognize that these attributes contribute to success. Here are some thoughts to ponder in my old versus relevant mindset:

Culinary Conferences: Bathrooms, Bars and Baristas
The audience at chef conferences and conventions is impressive, a sea of white chef coats that can seem almost cult-like, preaching the pride and joy of our profession. However, there’s a downside: bathroom breaks, food spills, cocktail parties, and those who wander off into the night. Escoffier wore a coat and tie to the office so he could frequent dining establishments after work, out of uniform. There’s nothing worse for any customer than to see staff in full uniform using the establishment’s bathroom.

At our Ritz Carlton Chefs Conference, it looked like a Milan fashion show, with global chefs strolling in tailored suits. We dressed as the customers of this luxury brand would expect in public spaces, knowing the Executive Chef’s reach extends beyond the kitchen walls.

Jacket Styles: Sleeves, Neckline, Buttons, Cloth
The greatest professional gift I received was my first Bragard Grand Chef jacket. As an American boy, I had arrived in the then-European craft, wearing it only on Sundays as a sign of how special it was. Over the years, the style changed in sleeve length, neckline, and buttons, modernizing slightly while remaining steeped in tradition. The Egyptian cotton was soft on the skin and durable for industry use, pressed to perfection with just the right amount of cotton thread count to withstand the heat of the laundry, producing a beautiful sheen. The jacket and hat are the most identifiable pieces of our industry—ones to be respected and cherished.

Food Safety: Hats, Aprons, Shoes, Color, Provider
Marriott issued their chefs white shoes, hats, jackets, and pants in the early years. Perhaps they looked more like hospitals than hospitality, but it defined their cleanliness image. How would you feel if the surgeon didn’t have a skull cap before commencing an operation? Aprons were designed for safety first, so if a chef spilled something, they could quickly remove this extra layer. Shoes are the next level of protection, and hats prevent potential foreign objects from contaminating the food. All our kitchens provided culinary uniforms through laundries, ensuring clean, fresh materials for our cooks. Some European cooks polished their chef’s shoes each night as part of their apprenticeship—a servant role more than a partnership but certainly drove home the chef’s commitment to lead by example.

What about suits? Is it pressed, or is it a dated concept today?
My first dining experience at age twenty required a jacket and tie. Today, many Michelin-starred experiences don’t require a dress code. This raises an important question: “Does a professional chef need a suit outside of their wedding day?” When hosting chef interviews today, my partner asks candidates, “Is your suit pressed for tomorrow’s interview?” Many arrive in new suits. Our business is deeply rooted in the private club world, where dress codes and traditions remain important. She is in her early forties, and in some cases, this formal dress code is generationally biased. It’s best to be overdressed in front of the membership committee that is interviewing you as their potential new chef, keeping in mind the simple reminder: “Would mom be proud of how I look?”

Auguste Escoffier, Our Example, Students of Our Profession
Escoffier was the first celebrity chef, understanding that his image would be judged long before he spoke. Today’s social media doesn’t allow for captions with all pictures. Great chefs like Anton Mosimann were in their bow ties 24/7. Respect for our profession is an individual choice, as is style. My mentor in this area of the profession was the President of the CIA, Mr. Metz. He dressed as one would expect of him, not based on where he had been. While he was comfortable with both jackets, he understood his brand and reach within our profession.

Who knew a simple uniform could signal so many things about our profession and the professionals who choose to wear it?

Club + Resort Chef – September 2024

Lawrence T. McFadden, CMC, ECM is a food and beverage training consultant and search executive with KOPPLIN KUEBLER & WALLACE, a consulting firm providing executive search, strategic planning and data analysis services to the private club and hospitality industries.