I will not shrink from hard work, but won’t hesitate to call out toxic kitchen environments

After graduating from Le Cordon Bleu in 2015, I was ready to start my journey in the restaurant industry with determination, ambition, and hard work. What I got at my first job in Mumbai was disillusionment, along with anxiety and depression. I remember coming home after my first day, having been told that I would be paid Rs 2,000 a month, that I would not get a day off for a few months since I was a “trainee”, and that I would have to arrive at 8 am every day and stay indefinitely.

Apart from experiencing a massive culture shock, I was appalled by the lack of hygiene and the fear that the place ran on. I remember coming home once to a house full of guests, eyes swollen because I’d cried the whole taxi ride back home, thinking that this would be my life.

I had wanted to be a chef long before it was cool (and long before the FX show, The Bear, became a pop cultural phenomenon). But after three days of working at that restaurant, I decided I wouldn’t go back. I couldn’t work in a place that made me feel uncomfortable, anxious, and unsafe. My parents, who had initially believed that I was perhaps too “spoiled” to work in the “real world”, finally admitted that they didn’t know enough about my industry to advise me on what to do, and that the decision was mine.

The relief I felt that day was unbelievable.

I got another job shortly after, which was better, although I still got yelled at by another chef and had cutlery thrown at me. I’m still proud of myself for standing up to him, telling that I wasn’t okay with the way he talked to me, or with cutlery being hurled at me, and that I wanted to leave. Once, during one of his daily fits of service-induced rage, he stood above me and bellowed, “You aren’t a chef. Stop behaving like a chef. You know nothing!”

Of course, I cried again on the drive home that day. He offered me an apology later, which I accepted. Since I come from privilege, I could afford to quit the job shortly after, on good terms, and so I did — because I couldn’t shake my discomfort. Yelling at me wasn’t okay. Throwing things at me wasn’t okay.

I then stumbled upon an article in The Telegraph which spoke about the newer generation of chefs who were quitting other well-paying jobs and “wasting” their degrees to become chefs, just because they loved food and had a passion for cooking. This was a turning point for me. I went on to work for one of the chefs who had been interviewed for the article. I had the time of my life. Hard work, but no abuse. I realised then that I was more than okay with hard work; it was the abuse that made me draw a line.

When it finally came to starting out on my own, I decided that I would be vocal about abuse and toxic kitchen environments from the start. This wasn’t always beneficial to me, but I have stuck with it.

It’s been 11 years since I graduated from culinary school. Through those years, I’ve been an advocate for happy kitchen environments and fighting against sexism. In India, this outspokenness hasn’t always worked in my favour. In an industry where many choose to remain silent, regularly calling out systemic abuse and sexism can lead to one being branded “radioactive”. Has that influenced my restaurant’s chances of winning awards and featuring on lists? Maybe.

So when Jason Ignacio White, former head of Noma’s fermentation lab, began posting last month about the abuse he had witnessed at the restaurant, I knew I had to speak up. We need to stand up against bullies and call out the intimidation, humiliation, and bullying that goes on in professional kitchens. It’s not about being a “snowflake”. Some of the hardest work I did was in kitchens that didn’t tolerate abuse. This is the only way we can get things to change.

The writer is chef-owner of Mumbai-based Italian restaurant Toast Pasta Bar