22 March,2026 09:26 AM IST | Mumbai | Nasrin Modak Siddiqi
Representational Image
A few days ago, The New York Times reported allegations that René Redzepi, the celebrated chef behind Noma, the "world's best restaurant" had punched, slammed, and inflicted other physical punishments on cooks from 2009 to 2017.
The report cited accounts from 35 former staff members describing the intense culture of his kitchen and unpaid stagiaires. When the news came out, corporate sponsors backed off, and protests were staged outside the gates of Noma Los Angeles. Later, Redzepi issued a public apology and stepped down from his post as head chef, acknowledging the need for change and accepting responsibility. However, the revelations reignited a global debate on toxic leadership and labour practices in fine dining.
Redzepi has been accused of punching a chef in the stomach for leaving a tiny tweezer mark on a Flower.PIC USED FOR REPRESENTATION PURPOSES
Sameer Taneja, who runs Michelin-star restaurant Benares in London and has worked in kitchens across India and abroad, says, "When allegations emerge from one of the world's most respected restaurants, the industry is forced to confront the gap between culinary excellence and workplace wellbeing. This isn't about just one individual but about recognising that high standards do not need to come with humiliation, intimidation, or fear. The shift was already underway, but this moment may accelerate how kitchen leadership is viewed."
Beena Noronha
For Chrome Hospitality's Corporate Executive Chef, Chirag Makwana, who has trained and worked in Canada, this is a "glass-shattering moment" because the toxic culture was normalised for far too long. "If a restaurant was winning Michelin stars, people looked the other way. These stories are no longer confined to the kitchen. Prestige can't excuse a toxic workplace and the idea that brilliance justifies mistreating staff is finally being questioned," he shares.
Rene Redzepi
National award-winning Chef Amninder Sandhu says, "For years, fine dining operated on the idea that brilliance justified extreme environments. For many chefs of my generation, surviving a harsh kitchen was seen as a strength. Now, more people are questioning whether creativity really needs that kind of pressure because survival should never be the benchmark for a healthy workplace."
Saltae Hospitality's founder Chef Beena Noronha thinks culinary brilliance has been used as a shield for poor leadership for far too long. Pressure is part of the profession. Abuse should never be. The industry has often blurred that line. This incident is a reminder that excellence does not require cruelty."
Kevin Gomes
Chef Kevin Gomes, who works in a five-star hotel kitchen, says it is unfair to label all professional kitchens as toxic because every kitchen has its own culture, shaped by the chef in charge. "The Redzepi episode spotlights on a long-known reality of how intense professional kitchens are with long, 12-14-hour shifts and kitchen burns or what we call âkitchen tattoos'. But that should never translate into shouting, humiliation. Many aspiring cooks are already thinking twice about joining the profession. If this generation doesn't change the culture, the industry will struggle in the future."
Noma started in 2003 at a 16th century harbourside warehouse in Denmark. They moved in 2016 to a former military site with greenhouses for experimentation and have had temporary pop-ups in cities like Tokyo, London, Tulum, Sydney, Kyoto, and now, Los Angeles (2026). The abuse allegations on its head chef and co-founder, René Redzepi has sparked a global debate between those defending traditional methods and those pushing for change
Kitchens around the world still operate within similar hierarchies, where discipline and expectations follow the traditional brigade system. When Vardaan Marwah, Chef and Co-founder, Farro, interned in hotel kitchens in 2017, he recalls an old-school culture where authority was sometimes misused. "In India, cultural respect for elders and authority often makes the âChef' figure feel almost parental (for better or worse). Abroad, particularly in Bangkok, where he worked, the hierarchy is more transactional and military-like. Many of us promised ourselves that when we ran kitchens, we wouldn't create that kind of environment," he says. "Today, with more independent restaurants led by younger chefs, kitchens are becoming more collaborative and respectful and sans fear or intimidation."
Vardaan Marwah
Chef Vijay Sharma [name changed] recalls long hours and public humiliation early in his career. "Raised voices, rigid discipline, and harsh criticism were seen as training, but much of it was tradition, not necessity. High standards don't need intimidation." Later, he trained in process-driven kitchens where discipline came from systems, not fear. "Excellence can be demanded, but once leadership relies on fear over respect, the line is crossed. Redzepi's case is a chance for the industry to rethink mentoring the next generation," he adds. Those experiences shaped his own leadership. "They taught me what motivates teams and what breaks them. When people feel valued, they perform better."
Chef Sandhu shares that, early in her career, while training under the tandoor and kebab ustads, she faced bullying. "It was unnecessary, with a lot of shouting and pressure to prove myself every day. The ustads, often illiterate, couldn't accept a woman who wanted to be a chef. They had never seen women as decision-makers, at home or beyond. It wasn't just about the kitchen; it was their conditioning.," she recalls. Noronha shares the challenge is amplified for women chefs, because they are constantly proving competence while navigating bias. "Some establishments may look progressive on paper, but culture determines whether a kitchen feels empowering or exclusionary," she adds.
The fine-dining world has long romanticised the "tough kitchen," especially in hotels, and Noronha says the culture was very real. "Intensity often meant shouting or humiliation, with young chefs told to endure it as training. Many knew which chefs crossed boundaries, but it was excused as passion or genius. That silence protected power. But fear creates compliance, not leadership. Discipline is about standards and accountability. Abuse is personal - insults, intimidation, constant fear. Pressure should come from the craft, not the person in charge."
Amninder Sandhu's kitchen at Palaash at Tipeshwar near Nagpur is run by an all-women team recruited from neighbouring villages, trained in open fire and traditional cooking techniques to execute the restaurant's seven-course degustation
Makwana recalls that "toughness" used to be a badge of honour, with shouting and humiliation seen as tests of character. "Once, for messing up a dish, my chef had me wash dishes and clean toilets for a month," he says. Many believed that if you couldn't handle the heat - literally and emotionally - you didn't belong. He adds that while discipline is key for precision, intimidation stifles creativity and causes burnout.
Sandhu recalls shouting was common, humiliation often played out mid-service, and intimidation was treated as training. "When I started, I was spoken to in ways that would be unacceptable today," she says. Tough kitchens and volatile chefs were well known, yet young cooks still sought them out - it felt like a rite of passage. "You internalised it as the price of entry, but much of it had little to do with skill and more with outdated authority." She adds that the pressure to excel has often blurred the line between discipline and abuse. "Excellence, punctuality, and focus can be demanded without shouting or belittling. I expect high standards, but create a space where people feel secure while they learn. Kitchens will always be intense, but fear should never drive them."
Chirag Makwana
Taneja reflects on a very different early experience. "I began my career at Oberoi Rajvilas, and it remains one of the best kitchen environments I've worked in. The entire hotel operated with a strong sense of dignity. We followed a simple rule: we are ladies and gentlemen serving ladies and gentlemen." He notes that tough leadership was never hidden. "Most chefs were open about how they ran their kitchens. But discipline and abuse are completely different. Abuse often appears when a leader fails to build real discipline. The toughest chefs I worked with were deeply committed. For them, cooking was almost a religion, not just a job."
Lyla's Prawn Sesame Toast
Marwah has been fortunate to work with mentors who led with warmth and respect, treating teams like friends and family, a bond that endures. As a self-taught chef, he did not come through the traditional hotel route where harsher cultures were more common, encountering shouting and abuse only during an internship. Later, as a young executive chef leading an older team, he admits he raised his voice out of frustration. A mentor's reminder that shouting does not earn respect changed how he leads kitchens today.
All the chefs we spoke to agree it is difficult for young chefs to call out toxic behaviour. Noronha explains, "Kitchens are deeply hierarchical, and young chefs rely heavily on references and reputation. Speaking up can feel like risking your entire career. The culture of silence is beginning to crack with younger chefs and new restaurant groups trying to build healthier workplaces, even as hierarchy remains deeply ingrained. Social media and greater scrutiny have made it harder to hide these stories, but fear still keeps many people quiet."
Makwana says, "Without strong HR structures, many are torn between their mental health and career. The responsibility for change must rest with owners and head chefs, not interns. The silence is breaking, but the fear hasn't disappeared. Thankfully, social media is a great equaliser. A chef's reputation is shaped not just by critics, but by the people who work for them. Behaviour that was once hidden is now a PR nightmare, forcing change, even if only to protect the brand."
Sandhu confirms the power imbalance. "Speaking up may close doors. That's why leadership must create systems where concerns can be raised without fear. Also, since greater online visibility has increased accountability, stories travel faster, and that scrutiny is making leaders more conscious of their behaviour and kitchen culture."
Makwana says India is at a crossroads, with globally exposed chefs bringing a progressive, collaborative mindset. "Change is underway, but it is slower in traditional, large-scale kitchens. The industry must move away from the â18-hour-day' mentality because a rested, respected chef produces better food than the one who is exhausted and fearful," he adds.
Benares' Turkey and chestnut shorba
Marwah agrees, "When we started, 16-hour days were normal. Now, chefs are fine with 8-10 hour shifts and we see that happening with more educated chefs and younger restaurateurs." Sharma adds the importance of stronger hospitality education, global exposure, and better HR practices. "A brigade spends more time together than with their families. When that bond is built on trust rather than fear, the team thrives," he adds.
Sameer Taneja
Noronha reiterates that the kitchens of the future must be led by people who produce great food while respecting those who create it. Sandhu adds, "Kitchens were once run like military units, with no conversation around mental wellbeing or work-life balance. Younger chefs today are better travelled, more aware of global workplace standards and are asking for change. Professional kitchens will always demand discipline, speed and intensity, but they should also be spaces where young cooks can grow without feeling intimidated. The next generation deserves mentorship, and the industry is finally beginning to recognise that."
Meera Khanna [name changed] says, "Physical abuse is unacceptable in any setting. It is illegal, and if it occurs, the recourse should be through the law. However, when allegations play out online, the fallout can extend beyond the individual to families, colleagues and teams who had nothing to do with the incident.
For many aspiring chefs from countries like India, internships in top kitchens have been the only gateway to learning at that level. I reached where I am today because I had those opportunities, even when it meant working without pay. If that pathway disappears, the industry could become even less accessible. Elite kitchens already have limited positions. If fear of backlash stops them from taking interns, young chefs will lose out the most. A good mentor knows when to be strict, when to guide and when to step back. I worry that if everything plays out instantly online, that system of learning could slowly erode."
Chef Amal Farooque says, "High standards cannot justify breaking people. However, one must understand that our profession is often misunderstood. Kitchens are high-pressure environments with relentless timelines and scrutiny and chefs are deeply emotional people, driven by instinct and intensity as they put their heart on a plate. They also carry the weight of public criticism. Reviews can be harsh, especially when people dismiss food they do not understand. That constant negativity can take a toll on those who spend years perfecting their craft.
I went through extreme training early in my career, but it never shaped the way I lead. Discipline is essential in my kitchen, but so is respect. Service may be intense and communication quick, but it should never cross into humiliation or violence." Farooque also highlights that abuse in kitchens is not limited to women. Male chefs also face bullying and harassment, but are often discouraged from speaking about it. "Abuse is abuse, regardless of gender," she adds.
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