Does the Hospitality Industry Encourage Disordered Eating?
and how family meal revises our industry's largest systemic issues.
The rims of our Modelo’s clink at the tenth hour of what will surely crossover into a twelve-hour steady service. The bottles’ their condensation mimics the sweat on our brows, and the sweet malted barley fills our empty stomachs. Guests watching our open kitchen may assume we’re celebrating something–a promotion, a new hire, personal news; a sous-chef getting engaged, and the like. While yes, sometimes that is our reason, most nights our ‘cheers’ speaks more honestly. It says, “This and 50 spoonfuls of briny clam broth are all I’ve eaten today.” I can’t tell you how often I’ve heard that statement while working the line. Other times, it’s laced within a joke when a large table is seated at 10:55 pm, along the lines of,– “Looks like it’s skinny summer!” What concerns me more than the possibility of the line cook next to me passing out from hunger are the versions of this statement paired with pride. Loudly holding up a spoonful of rice and telling me, “This is all I’ve eaten today.” As if not taking their break meant that they worked harder than the rest of the team, or worse, that not taking care of themselves made them a better cook. I’m a cook in a New York City kitchen, and I prepare meals all day, yet it seems hardest to feed myself.
The concept is ironic. How could someone surrounded by food all day forget to feed themselves? The way I see it, the hospitality industry has several systemic issues that nurture self-neglect: a lack of enforced breaks, a culture where healthy habits are “uncool,” and, more often than not, a seriously understaffed kitchen. I’m here to offer my simple solutions, and maybe it’s the cook in me, but they all have one thing in common–family meal. As ironic as the concept of a cook not eating may seem, a startling percentage have reported “experiencing symptoms of disordered eating.” According to a report by the nonprofit Not 9 to 5–which works to bring mental health awareness and training to restaurant and hospitality industry professionals–63% of 673 restaurant workers surveyed indicated such. If this is true, the correlation of eating disorders in cooks seems akin to an alcoholic behind the bar, and in both cases, the choice of profession is often intentional. As food professionals, we share one thing in common–we’re all obsessed with food. While an obsession with your craft sounds normal, those cooking with an eating disorder may be using elaborate meals and hours preparing food for others as a quiet excuse not to eat. So why aren’t we talking about it more loudly?
In recent years, chefs and industry professionals have stopped starving in silence and are beginning to share their experiences to encourage change. And while I’ve heard different answers depending on who I ask, common triggers exist daily in food service. Those include high stress, abnormal sleep schedules, and long shifts, most days as a cook being 1:30 pm - 12:30 am. However, the most damaging trigger is the one that suggests that being promoted means one must overwork themselves into poor physical and mental health. Many of the pieces I’ve read have reinforced the idea that this narrative was the easiest excuse they could use not to eat. It didn’t take much digging for several servers to relay information similar to the cooks. “The restaurant industry is breeding grounds for neglecting yourself physically–water, food, rest–all things our bodies and minds need to function,” they tell me. Adding that the culture of neglect “encourages complacency for those with eating disorders like mine. For years, I hid my anorexia behind my restaurant jobs. The shifts created an excuse to be ‘too busy to eat.”
The impetus of what this server brings up reminds me of the toxic narrative we see as cooks: that overworking equals promotion, bringing me to my first solution. Family meal should be required for everyone. What I mean by this is that while most restaurants already require it daily before service, one still constantly sees their sous and upper management work straight through their breaks. So much so that it begins to feel like a rite of passage to skip ours and not eat. Not only does this lousy example tell the line cook or server that they must sacrifice their break if they want to get ahead, but it also whispers to the mind of a disordered eater that regularly nurturing themselves isn’t the norm in this environment. A heavier emphasis on family meals, including upper management, allows everyone to refuel their bodies and minds while connecting with their team, creativity, and productivity—a real win-win for the employee and the managing staff.
Outside of enforcing breaks for all, my second point is approaching family meals with a healthier intention and tenderness. No, I don’t mean taking turns holding hands or burning our ex’s sweatshirts. I mean making family meals healthier, nutritionally and mentally. For me, this point carries extra weight. Years before I began cooking professionally, I grappled with contradicting mindsets–a nerdy passion for food and a loud orthorexic voice that told me I needed to be strict with what I put into my body. I would make plans with friends to check out a restaurant I was dying to try and fall into a panic as the date drew near. Ultimately, I’d end up eating before to ensure I had something healthy, tell them, “Whoops, I just ate! I’ll join, but just grab a coffee,” as if the entire point of our hang wasn’t to eat at the restaurant I’d chosen.
It took me years to improve my mindset around food and create a healthy balance, but I’m still imperfect. I thought these voices had gone away until I began working the line of a kitchen mainly composed of young men. Often working through breaks, downing whiskey shots, every Modelo handed to them, and treating their bodies like shit to sustain the longevity of their shifts–I felt the tickle of my old triggers reappear. As a woman in the kitchen, I’m expected to keep up with the boys. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes the camaraderie of it all is fun. It can even be the best part of working the line–singing to the music, feeding off the energy of the packed dining room, and working quickly as a team. But I’m talking about those especially grueling services, when the whole “eat what they eat, drink what they drink” makes stomaching all the stress all the more difficult. Because I’m working on an empty tank, nutritionally or literally, and as a woman, I feel I have additional expectations. Namely, the one that nags me is to keep up with the masculine energy while maintaining a charming, feminine physical appearance. It wasn’t until I read Maya Okada Erickson’s piece, “Girl Vs. Food,” that I realized other women and femme-presenting people felt the same. Although some hide it better than others, these social triggers are common. For me, feeding into those triggers would look like a night as “one of the boys,” followed by a day of severely under-eating to balance things out.
With all of this in mind, it’s fair to say none of this is as simple as an equation of cook + food = eating disorder, or that all cooks = masochists stewing in their disorders, but rather that hospitality environments as they currently operate, are ubiquitous to self-neglect. And coming back to my original point, healthier family meals could support a healthier culture in a steady way long-term. Nutritionally, this looks like a well-rounded family meal. Recently, we prepared a chicken taginetajine with carrots, peppers, and fresh broth that made us feel good throughout service. Another chef I worked with told me they built substance into their meals as a part of their daily system–assigning each cook one section of family: a protein, a veg, a starch, and always a salad. You could do whatever you wanted within said structure, but the suggestion of a well-rounded meal ensured their cooks weren’t going hungry, nor were they eating plain buttered pasta or a heavy-cream lamb stew just before service. In addition to nutrition, mentally healthy environments are also essential to nurture. Why not use family meal as an opportunity to check in more frequently and with caring intentions? Asking the team how they’re doing and providing a longer pause for answers instead of filling the void with senseless chatter and spoons hitting the plate is a beautiful start.
Smooth as butter on bread, which could go on the side of that chicken soup your team just made–we slide to the final point. If a goal is continually late during prep, and it requires you or your sous to skip their break, it is because that goal is unrealistic for the skill level or scale of the staff. And an understaffed kitchen leads to burnout. I have noticed some restaurants are trying out a ‘floater’ role as a solution. The floater is an extra line cook who comes in toward the end of prep, just before family meal to help anyone on the team who is falling behind and ensure that service can run smoothly. They also stay through the majority of service and prep. Not only does this help the team get ahead for the next day, but it creates room for more frequent breaks during service because this team member also knows how to work the line. The role gives the line cook a moment to notice they’re starving and have a 5-minute snack, bathroom break, or take a deep breath if they’ve just had a particularly sweaty push. A similar system could be in place for front-of-house workers, as well. Giving no more room for “I’m too busy to eat” with simple tweaks such as these.
For some, without these tweaks, leaving restaurants is the only answer. “My health and energy were at an all time low,” a friend tells me, who left restaurants to become a freelance cook. “Because of the culture, I abandoned self-care, hobbies, and friendships. Leaving restored my love of food.” Their experience raised another question: How soon can we begin employing these solutions? Because restaurants will still exist, whether we are a part of them or not. And I personally want to be a part of them.
I suppose you can answer that–our leaders within the industry, that is. Bring more awareness to the issue, share your piece with your team, and be open to hearing new points of view. I’ll say it once more just so we’re clear. Neglecting your mental and physical needs and skipping your break does not make you more dedicated. It doesn’t make you more talented or a superior cook, period. One day, I’d love to wake up and cook in an environment where we’re all surrounded by food and we, too, are fed and watered. Like little plants. Now that’s something I can ‘cheers’ to -; where’s my Modelo?