"A good rule of thumb: If you feel the need to call yourself a celebrity chef, you aren’t one."-- Dan Myers, in "Sorry, But You're Not a Celebrity Chef"by KenAnd in support of the above thesis, "Daily Meal" Eat/Dine Editor Dan Myers leads off his post "Sorry, But You're Not a Celebrity Chef" with a picture of Mario Batali captioned: "Mario Batali is allowed to call himself a celebrity chef, but we'll bet that he doesn't.""A couple weeks ago," Dan begins, "I was browsing Twitter when I encountered a profile belonging to a chef who hailed himself (via his profile blurb) as a 'world renowned celebrity chef.' "
I ran a quick Google search on the guy, who had just under 100 followers, and discovered — via a Wikipedia page that seemed suspiciously detailed — that he’s the chef at a restaurant in Tokyo that is “a favorite among celebrities,” and that he’d previously ran the kitchen at a couple restaurants in Los Angeles that are also noted as “celebrities’ favorites.” He appeared on an episode of the original Iron Chef 17 years ago (which “rocketed him to even higher celebrity status,” according to the entry), and logged hours in some prestigious kitchens. While he very well might be a great chef, there’s one thing he isn’t: a celebrity.This isn’t an isolated incident by any stretch of the imagination; I’m beset on a near-daily basis with press releases touting the newest achievements of one “celebrity chef” or another. Forty-nine out of 50 times I’ve never heard of them, and their resume is as thin as any other chef, with possibly a regular stint on a local morning show thrown in. It feels good to be on television, but it doesn’t automatically make you a celebrity.
Now regular readers will know that I'm already kind of persnickety about the widespread warrantless use of the word "chef," which nowadays seems to be applied to anyone who has spent more than an hour in a kitchen. As I've noted all too frequently, a lot of people are calling themselves chefs who probably don't even merit the designation "cook."But "celebrity" chef or anything else ought to require at least that the claimant is, you know, famous. It isn't even a mark of quality, celebrityhood; all that it really does mean is that you're well-known.As Dan writes,
I know that being a chef is a grueling, oftentimes anonymous job where many dream of stardom along the lines of Mario Batali or Tom Colicchio to elevate them from the daily grind and low pay. There are plenty of chefs that may have earned a bit of local renown, either by talent, a good publicist, or some combination of the two. But I think there’s a good rule of thumb in here: if you feel the need to call yourself a celebrity chef, you aren’t one.
Dan makes a claim with which one might wish to quibble: "The vast majority of chefs choose the profession because they love to cook, and love to see the happy faces of those who are enjoying their culinary handiwork." Not that one doesn't wish it true; one merely wonders whether it still is true for "the vast majority of chefs" opting into the field. Fortunately Dan is about to enter a "but."
But in the Era of the Celebrity Chef, some become chefs thinking that it’s a one-way ticket to a life of hosting their own travel show and making lauded guest-judging appearances on Top Chef. It’s obviously tempting to imagine yourself in Anthony Bourdain’s shoes, but it’s the equivalent of a community theater player in Sheboygan dreaming of becoming the next Robert De Niro: it’s very likely just not going to happen.
"So what exactly do you need to accomplishbefore you can call yourself a celebrity chef?"Dan asks this obviously relevant question, suggesting, "I think it's about time we laid down some criteria." He proposes ten criteria, and argues "that any combination of three or more of these should do it."
1) You host/have hosted a nationally televised cooking/food-related show, preferably on Food Network, Cooking Channel, or the Travel Channel. 2) You made it to the finale of a season of Top Chef. 3) You’re the chef–owner of two or more popular (possibly eponymous) restaurants in big cities. 4) You’re occasionally recognized on the street (even if it’s just “Do I know you from somewhere?”). 5) You’re a paid spokesperson for a major company. 6) You’ve ever wondered if you’re “selling out.” 7) You’ve been featured/profiled in a major national food magazine. 8) You’re the star attraction at an event at either the New York, Aspen, or South Beach Wine and Food Festival. 9) You appear regularly as a guest on national morning or late-night talk shows. 10) You don’t refer to yourself as a celebrity chef.
This all seems reasonable to me, except for maybe the "even if it's just 'Do I know you from somewhere?' " watering-down of no. 4 (if this is going to count as one of your "magic three") -- with the proviso, always, that even if you manage to qualify, by Dan's or any other reasonable standard, as a celebrity chef, that still doesn't mean you're necessarily a good chef.As Dan himself concludes:
It’s tempting to think that becoming a chef will lead to fame, fortune, and celebrity, but unless you satisfy the criteria, please don’t call yourself a celebrity chef. Nobody will believe you, it’s kind of sad, and anyway, it’s a lame term to begin with.
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