What If We Just Got Rid of Fine Dining?

I'm not sure the cost of tasting menus is worth it in any sense of the word.

Photo by Sebastian Coman Photography on Unsplash

How much would you be willing to pay for that fancy tasting menu if you knew for every quenelle of caviar, every perfectly julienned carrot, every spoon of beurre blanc on your plate, at least one person was getting verbally berated, or punched, or having a knife chucked at their head?

The answer should be “zero.” It’s a price none of us should be willing to pay. But that is not reality — people continue to happily hand over money to experiece the “prestige” of fine dining, for the bragging rights. Even worse, several organizations are more than willing to shower these restaurants with splashy awards year-after-year that only serve to reward and reinforce reprehensible behavior.

Thanks to a relentless push on social media by former Noma staffers and some very comprehensive reporting by Julia Moskin at the New York Times, bad behavior in restaurant kitchens, especially high-end fine dining kitchens, is back in the headlines. The investigation resulted in chef Rene Redzepi stepping back (not stepping away!) from the day-to-day operations of Noma, which just opened it’s stupidly expensive Los Angeles residency. More importantly, it’s put a spotlight on the divide that continues to exist in the industry, with many chefs and diners defending Redzepi, quick to accept his stiff Instagram apology, and saying that abusive kitchens are just a right of passage and the industry standard.

While the Noma outrage is justified, this is not about Noma and Redzepi for me. (I’d like to believe that most people have capacity for remorse and growth and there is a way forward for him with true accountability, but that is up to him.) What this brings up for me is a larger question I have been grappling with for years — do we really need fine dining?

This is a larger quesetion about systems. Do we, as a society, at this point in culture, really need these so called ~ temples ~ of cuisine, where chefs walk around as if they are gods to worship, immune to the consequences of bad behavior? All because they know their way around a pair of tweezers and are willing to charge you $800 for the pleasure?

Fine dining as a whole is poisioned at the root. The majority of high-end kitchens are dependent upon the brigade system to function, a hierarchical kitchen structure created by Georges-Auguste Escoffier, that was based off of the military. It’s a strict system that enables abuse and prioritizes heirarchy over respect and the general well-being of staff.

I understand that abuse is prevelant in non fine-dining kitchens, but many kitchens these days aren’t so relient on the brigade system to function. In fact, I have witnessed many chefs — especially while in my previous role as the restaurant editor at Food & wine — set up their kitchens to be happy, non-violent work places, even if they themselves came up in their careers in abusive work places.

Just because things used to be terrible, doesn’t mean they need to continue to be terrible. It’s not a badge of honor. My first full time food writing staff job initially paid me $36k a year in New York City and I was forced to work under some of the worst, most miserable bosses of all time writing on average 10-12 stories a day. I cried at least twice a day. I wish that upon no one and even though journalism continues to die at a heartbreaking rate, I am happy to see that the salary floor for junior level positions is at least $55k-$60k these days. I would never think to tell an up-and-coming writer or editor that they have it “easy” because they didn’t have to suffer like I did.

Then there is the question of sustainability in fine dining. As a planet, we are in an environmental crisis that will only continue to get worse without major course correction. Fine dining kitchens, especially those focused on tasting menus, are some of the most wasteful kitchens out there, thanks to the pursuit of “perfection.” A perfect baton will be cut from a radish, while the rest, though totally edible, will be discarded into the trash. Fine dinging’s obsession with creating a false reality is hard to swallow. Food is not perfect — no two onions are the same. So why does fine dining restaurants keep trying to push so hard for uniformity? And at what cost?

This total disregard for environmental sustainability also does not factor in human sustainability. If Noma has proven anything, even a kitchen that claims to be so obsessed with environmental sustainability using only foraged foods and local produce, is not actually sustainability focused if the owners does not think about the longevity and treatment of its staff. Not to mention as a business model, fine dining restaurants are the worst out of all restaurants with some of the thinnest margins in the game.

All for what at the end of the day? My best meals have never been at fine dining establishements, but my worst meals have been. (I will be writing about the worst meal of my entire career soon, but just know it was a 6 hour tasting menu, and I threw up in the middle of it from one of the dishes.) The plates can be beautiful, the ingredients are high-end, but that doesn’t mean it’s a truly delicious and satisfying experience. More often than not, once I leave a tasting menu, I am making an immediate turn to the nearest Taco Bell or grabbing a box of cereal and a jug of milk.

Most fine dining menus are really an expression of a chef’s ego. It’s a chance to demonstrate the wildest techiniques they collected doing free stages across fancy kitchens in Europe. It’s solely about what they want you to experience, with total disregard for whether it’s pleasant or not. They’re not interested in delicious in the way more restaurants are. Noma, like many others like it, serves cerebral and deeply fussy food, and rarely is cerebral and fussy food actually good. Just because something looks good on the plate does not mean it is actually enjoyable. It’s not satisfying — and it takes hours to get through.

So what is left when you strip away the fussy food? Beautiful service in a well decorated space? Sure! But i’ve had incredible, warm, over-the-top service in stunning non fine-dining restaurants, too. In fact, it feels like stiff and less orchestrated when you remove the fine dining element of it all.

I will acquiesce that tasting menus and fine dining can be worth it if the chef really has something to say, has a point to prove, and it isn’t just about chasing down awards, accolades, and pats on the back. I think often of the tasting menu I had a few years ago at Kasama in Chicago. Chefs Tim Flores and Genie Kwon weave magic, demonstrating that Filipino food deserves to be taken as seriously as French and American cuisines. That it’s worth spending $325 per person on. (The Kasama team also has an affordable and accessible daytime menu that is a la carte and it’s a duality I wish more tasting menu restaurants had.) I feel the same way about the all vegetarian and fully sustainable tasting menu at Oyster Oyster in DC. Chef Rob Rubba is making a statement that meat-free cooking deserves to be seen as high-end. But these are statements that I believe can still be made outside of fine dining.

Above all — what really is the point of fine dining? It remains deeply inaccessible to most people. It’s incredibly wasteful. A culture of abuse still lingers in many kitchens. What good does it really contribute to society, especially when the chef isn’t trying to elevate a culture or make a meaningful statement? More often then not, fine dining feels detached from the world around it. It is lacking in empathy.

Which is what makes the Noma story so difficult to swallow right now. To pop up in Los Angeles — a city where ICE agents are actively targeting restaurant workers, where independent restaurants are barely holding on after wildfires, tariffs, and relentless cost increases, and where many families are struggling just to afford groceries — and still charge $1,500 per person for braised acorns and fermented cactus goo is surreal. Add in a history of abusive kitchen culture, and the whole thing starts to look less like excellence and more like delusion.

At some point, we have to ask what we’re really celebrating when we celebrate fine dining. Restaurants are supposed to feed people, not break them. And if the cost of a beautiful plate is the people behind it, then maybe it’s time we stop pretending fine dining is worth celebrating.

Would love to know your thoughts on fine dining in the comments.