a man sitting on a table: Martin Bosley. Photo/Supplied
© Bauer Media Martin Bosley. Photo/Supplied

Too few chefs in the kitchen

Today, 35% of our weekly food spend goes on eating outside the home, compared with about 48% in the US. In the Finnish capital Helsinki, where they barely eat at home, that figure is 80%.

Based on these figures, the Restaurant Association’s Egan thinks there is room for growth. However, he says, it is a difficult business with the profit average only about 3% of takings. “Bring-your-own restaurants have even less chance of reaching those milestones unless they’re family-run and working for the good of the family. There really are no rich restaurateurs.”

What’s the secret of restaurants that do well? “Consistency. It’s like a show. The curtain goes up and whether you came on opening night or 10 years down the track, it has to be the same. In fact, it should be getting better and better.’’

Around the globe, though, Egan says there is a worldwide shortage of chefs and highly trained staff. All the restaurateurs interviewed for this story identified a lack of chefs and energetic front-of-house staff, as well as the hike in the minimum hourly wage as major constraints on their businesses. “I spoke to another local restaurateur today and he is struggling to find junior chefs,” says Egan. “He said he may just change to a bar. Prices will need to go up amongst a range of cost savings.’’

At the National Restaurant Association summit in Chicago, attended by people from 14 countries, he found the industry is millions of people short. “It’s a really hard job to do. Kids see cooking shows and think they’re going to be famous.’’

Tasty bytes

Overseas, wage and cost pressures in the industry are forcing changes, some controversial. Over a lunchtime, hungry locals and tourists are pouring into San Francisco’s Eatsa – the city’s first fully automated eatery. When it launched in 2015, Eatsa was hailed a revolutionary concept. Customers order build-your-own quinoa bowls from online kiosks, then back-of-house workers prepare each dish. When one is “built’’, the bowl appears behind glass in a cubbyhole with the customer’s name.

It’s even more extreme at Creator, a burger joint where a single robot makes a burger in 5 minutes, all ordered by tablets and viewable through a glass booth. Spyce, in Boston, is the world’s first fully robotic restaurant. Its menu was created by a Michelin-starred chef, but it is put together by robots in the kitchen.

A McDonald’s in Chicago is fully automated, with all the burgers and sides made by robots. In New Zealand, McDonald’s has started getting customers to order their meals using online booths. However, a spokesman says there are no short-term plans to follow overseas initiatives. “The main technology changes are more customer-facing, with the introduction of touch-screen ordering kiosks, digital menu boards and the new McDonald’s app.’’

Egan says that while he expects to see some robotic input in the fast-food industry, full-service restaurants are likely to retain the human touch. “I am not sure the customer would feel they are getting the magic that professional chefs bring to the experience.”

However, Egan expects wage and cost pressures will lead to a new trend here that is already happening abroad: simplified restaurants serving basic menus. In London, the Flat Iron restaurant group serves just one steak, accompanied by a choice of five sides, four sauces and a dessert. Also, in nine locations around London, Burger and Lobster serves three burgers, a lobster main and a handful of seafood sharing plates.

“These places are full-service with beverages and do phenomenal business. They have one superstar chef who sets the standards,” says Egan.

Back in Wellington, Fiso says that the technology of social media allows chefs to showcase their work and push the boundaries. Thanks to her appearance on Final Table she has amassed 25,000 Instagram followers who enjoy her foraging adventures, celebrity selfies and adventurous Kiwi kai. “Ten years ago, diners would have gone, ‘Where’s my steak and chips?’ Plus, the renaissance of Māori culture in everyday life has really helped what I do.’’

a person sitting in a kitchen: Paul Hoather: ”When you put a new menu out, it’s like a performance.” Photo/Victoria Birkenshaw/Listener
© Bauer Media Paul Hoather: ”When you put a new menu out, it’s like a performance.” Photo/Victoria Birkenshaw/Listener

Pressure cooker

Paul Hoather is getting back behind the stove slowly, concocting soups and stocks, and making cheese. These are small steps for the acclaimed chef who suffered a stroke more than two years ago that could have killed him.

Hoather spent more than three decades cooking for others, notching up awards for bespoke dishes and the high-end, successful restaurants he set up.

Sitting at Charley Noble, the Wellington restaurant he and his wife, Louise, co-own with their business partner, Pengyu Du, he is an example of a chef who worked around the clock to feed the diners who came to him. The 62-year-old dedicated his life to his restaurants: first came fine dining restaurant The White House, followed by bistro Charley Noble, then, in late 2014, contemporary seafood restaurant, Whitebait, which was forced to close this year, a victim to rising costs.

Hoather worked so hard that Louise got used to dining at home alone. They chose not to have children because he didn’t want to be an absentee father.

“Being in the kitchen was a very exciting place; it’s like a drug,” says Hoather. “When you put a new menu out, it’s like a performance. You feel really good about it. That’s what kept me going.’’

At the time of his stroke, Paul wasn’t eating well, he wasn’t getting much downtime from cooking and overseeing up to 300 meals a day. After he suffered the stroke, he struggled to walk or talk. He was forced to relearn basic skills he had taken for granted.

Last year, the Hoathers shifted from their Brooklyn home to Nelson to help Paul’s rehabilitation. The move has been good for him – his speech, once difficult to understand, rolls freely now. He gets out daily for walks along the river with their dog and he has started cooking again – simple meals he can create in their home kitchen, just for the two of them. He’s getting creative by making cheese.

“I play in the kitchen all the time,” he says. “Eventually I’d like to make camembert and blue cheese. It’s nice to do.’’

Asked if he might return to one of his restaurant kitchens, he shakes his head. Instead, he will focus on menu development, to help the head chefs at his restaurants.

To some extent, Hoather is a chef of his generation. Younger ones such as Michael Meredith stopped before cooking took its toll. Meredith closed his eponymous Auckland restaurant in 2017 to spend time with his daughter, his fourth child.

The co-founder of “buy one, gift one” social enterprise Eat My Lunch says his first marriage broke down because of the pressure. “It’s hard being a chef and trying to be at home.”

In Wellington, The Larder’s Jacob Brown stopped serving meals at night to spend time with his children, and his Miramar restaurant is now only open during the daytime and for pop-ups.

The pressure of the industry has resulted in a number of high-profile chef suicides. The deaths of Benoît Violier, the French-born chef of Restaurant de l’Hôtel de Ville in Switzerland, in 2016, and Bernard Loiseau in 2003, were attributed to the pressures of maintaining three Michelin stars, considered the pinnacle of a chef’s achievement. Earlier this year, Australian celebrity chef Justin Bull was found dead in his Sydney restaurant, the latest in a series of suicides in Australia.

“If you’re an owner-operator, it’s your house on the line if the business doesn’t do well,” says Louise Hoather. “There’s so much pressure and a restaurant is such a public thing. A lot of chefs have very high standards. They’re often perfectionists. A lot of restaurants are based around one person. Everyone expects Michael Meredith to be there. They’d come here and expect to see Paul.’’

This article was first published in the June 1, 2019 issue of the New Zealand Listener.