In retrospect, an honour. This is to our masters, in the original sense.

A Look Back on "Don’t Eat Before Reading This" - When Anthony Bourdain first published his now-legendary essay, it was a revelation. He wrote of kitchens as places of blood and bone, chaos and cruelty, camaraderie and rebellion. It was shocking to diners, who saw restaurants as temples of elegance, romance and perfect places within their daily ongoings. It was instantly familiar to cooks. We recognized ourselves, and our untold stories in the burns, the late-night oysters, the gallows humor, and the stories about stubborn pride that came with surviving another service.

Looking back now.. More than twenty years later, much has changed. Techniques have sharpened, tools have advanced, health standards have grown stricter, and the industry has—at least in some part—learned to confront its darker corners and shames. Kitchens today are changing, more inclusive, and more professional than the sweat-filled bunkers Bourdain described that many of we semi-modern professionals grew up in. The tattoos , battle scars, and late night shames remain but now so do HR departments persist. Like a union they protect and take care of our new generation in the form of wellness programs, and conversations about balance and longevity. The brutality has softened, if only slightly.

And yet, the essence of a chef remains untouched.

Whether it was Marco Pierre White in his prime, stripping cooking down to its uncompromising truths; or whether it was Bourdain, celebrating the outlaw spirit of line cooks in their primal insanity; or whether it is today’s chefs, plating dishes designed for both the tongue and the camera lens—the heart of the craft beats the same for most that are passionate about the origin. It is still, and will always be, about devotion to detail, obsession with flavor, and the impossible pursuit of perfection on a plate.

Yes, induction burners have replaced open gas flames in many places (To our sadness), and sous-vide circulators hum where stockpots once boiled over. Yes, the social media spotlight has turned kitchens into stages, and chefs into personalities. However, the work—the real work—remains unchanged and the silent heroes persist. Most seek no need for satisfaction other than what is given from their chef, no need for the calm and cool temperament of a pleasant workplace. Like stalwart guardians, the next generation of great Chefs persist and follow direction, and perfectly so. They perfect what is given to them, because that is the only way forward. Long hours, hot pans, mise-en-place en masse and the thrill of completing slightly impossible tasks coupled with the quiet thrill of service when a team moves as one. The silent pride of sending out something beautiful that will exist only for a moment before it is either consumed by the chaos, or purified by the clarity that comes with fully understanding the chaos, and is then forgotten or completely ignored in a fleeting moment.

What Bourdain captured. What every great chef before and after him has echoed, is that this life is not just about food—it’s about identity. The kitchen attracts the dreamers, the misfits, and the relentless ones who find meaning in what they do and what comes out of what they do. The scars. The noise. The understanding. The kitchen changes, but the essence of what makes the kitchen endures. You may not write the next great food manifesto or earn three Michelin stars, but in every perfectly seasoned sauce, in every diner who remembers your dish years later, you leave your mark and represent those that have passed on their knowledge to you.

Stand proud. It is not an easy life, but it is a noble one.