Look, I'm not gonna lie—I wanted to be a head chef for all the ego reasons. The title. The authority. The "I'm in charge now" power trip. I thought that's what would make it worth it.Turns out, the title is whatever. The authority is exhausting. Being in charge is mostly just stress and responsibility.You know what's actually the best part? The fucking brigade.The crew. The team. The people who show up every day to this dysfunctional, chaotic, beautiful disaster and somehow make it work. That's the thing that makes any position in the kitchen—head chef, line cook, prep, dishwasher—worth doing.Let me break down why, no matter where you are in the brigade, the people around you are the only reason any of this makes sense.
photo by: Dave Garcia
Head Chef: Leading People Who Actually Get It
When you're head chef, CDC, executive chef—whatever title your place uses—the best part isn't the authority. It's leading people who actually understand what you're doing and why.
You're not explaining yourself constantly. In normal jobs, you have to explain why things need to be done a certain way. Why timing matters. Why standards can't slip. It's exhausting justifying your decisions to people who don't get the stakes.In a kitchen? Your brigade gets it. They know why you're particular. Why you're intense. Why you can't accept "good enough." They've been on the line. They've survived the rushes. They understand that your standards aren't ego—they're survival.When you say "this isn't right, remake it," they don't argue or get defensive. They just remake it. Because they know. They've seen what happens when standards slip. They respect the pursuit of excellence because they're pursuing it too.
You're leading people who've earned your respect. The best part of being head chef isn't being in charge of people. It's being in charge of people you actually respect. People who've proven themselves. Who've survived what you've survived. Who speak the same language.Your sous chef who can run service without you there? Respect. Your line cook who stays calm when everyone's drowning? Respect. Your prep cook who shows up early every day without being asked? Respect.You're not managing random employees. You're leading people who've earned their place through fire and pressure and competence. And that's a completely different dynamic.
You're connected to something real. Being a boss in most industries is isolating. You're separate from your team. There's distance. Politics. Bullshit.But as head chef, you're still in the kitchen. Still on the line during service. Still sweating and bleeding and suffering with your crew. The hierarchy exists, but so does solidarity. You're not above them—you're just in front of them.And that connection? That matters. Because you're not some distant authority figure. You're the person who just executed 200 covers alongside them and is now buying them shift drinks because everyone earned it.
Line Cook: Your People Are Your Lifeline
As a line cook, you don't have authority. You're not in charge. But you know what you do have? The people next to you who are the only reason you survive each shift.
They cover you without being asked. You're drowning. You've got eight tickets on your station and three dishes firing and everything's timing is fucked. And suddenly there's another set of hands helping. The guy on sauté jumped over. The sous stepped in. Nobody made a big deal about it. Nobody waited for you to ask.That's brigade. They saw you struggling and moved. Because they know tomorrow it'll be them drowning and you'll do the same.
They make the impossible possible. Some nights should be impossible. You're understaffed, over-booked, equipment is failing, everything that can go wrong is going wrong. By all logic, service should collapse.But it doesn't. Because the brigade finds a way. Everyone goes harder. Covers more. Moves faster. Accepts no excuses. And somehow, impossibly, you get through it.That's not individual talent. That's collective refusal to fail. And you only get that with a real brigade.
They're the only people who understand. Your friends outside the industry don't get why you do this. Your family doesn't understand why you can't just "find a normal job." Your partner is frustrated that you're always at work.But your brigade? They get it. They know why you're still here despite everything. They understand what it costs and why it's worth it. They speak your language. They share your scars.When you're questioning whether you can do this anymore, they're the reason you come back. Because leaving means leaving them. And you've survived too much together to just walk away.
photo by: Jvxhn Visual
Prep Cook: You're Building the Foundation
Prep seems like the bottom. The least glamorous position. Just cutting vegetables and making stocks while everyone else gets the glory of service.But in a good brigade, prep is respected. Because everyone knows that great prep is what makes service possible.
Good brigades acknowledge your work. When your brunoise is perfect, when your stocks are flavorful, when everything is portioned and ready—good brigades notice. They thank you. They recognize that their smooth service depends on your invisible work.In shitty kitchens, prep is invisible. Taken for granted. But in real brigades, prep is valued because everyone remembers doing it. Everyone knows that boring, repetitive work is the foundation of everything else.
You're learning from everyone. As a prep cook, you're absorbing knowledge from every position. The sous teaches you technique. The line cooks show you shortcuts. The chef explains why things are done certain ways.A good brigade sees prep as the future. They invest in teaching you because they remember being where you are. They want you to be better because better prep cooks become better line cooks become better chefs.
You're part of the process. Even though you might not be on the line during service, you're part of what makes service work. And in good brigades, you feel that. You're not excluded from the team—you're part of it from a different angle.When service crushes it and everyone's celebrating after, you're there too. Because they know your work contributed to that success.
Steward/Dishwasher: The Most Underrated Position
Let's be real: dishwasher is the position everyone shits on. "Just the dish guy." The bottom of the hierarchy. The position people look down on.But in real brigades? Dishwashers are respected. Because everyone knows that when the dish pit falls apart, the entire kitchen collapses.
You see everything. As a steward, you're watching the entire operation. You see which stations are struggling. You hear all the drama. You understand the flow of service in a way that even some line cooks don't.You're not isolated in a single station. You're connected to everything. And smart brigades recognize that stewards often have insight that others miss.
You're the emergency backup. When shit hits the fan—equipment breaks, someone gets hurt, a station falls catastrophically behind—who fills in? Often the steward. Because you've been watching. You know the basics. You can jump in and help even if you're not trained on that station.Good brigades know this. They value stewards because they're the flexible backup that makes impossible nights survivable.
You're the foundation. Without clean plates, service stops. Immediately. You're not the bottom of the hierarchy—you're the foundation everything else stands on.And in good brigades, that's acknowledged. Your position might be "lowest" on paper, but your importance is understood. When you stay late to dig the kitchen out of a disaster service, the brigade notices. They appreciate it. They respect the grind.
You're on the path. Most chefs started somewhere. Lots started in the dish pit. Good brigades see stewards as future cooks, future chefs. They teach. They encourage. They remember being there.In shitty kitchens, dishwashers are invisible. In real brigades, they're valued members of the team on the first step of the journey.
photo by: Julien
What Makes a Real Brigade
Here's the thing: not every kitchen has a brigade. Some kitchens just have people who happen to work in the same space. They show up, do their station, go home. No connection. No solidarity. Just labor.Real brigades are different. And you know you're in a real brigade when:
- They protect each other. When someone fucks up, the brigade covers before it becomes a bigger problem. When someone is struggling, hands appear to help without being asked. When someone is getting unfairly blamed, the brigade speaks up.
- They communicate honestly. No bullshit. No politics. If something's wrong, it gets said. If someone's not pulling weight, it gets addressed. But it's not mean—it's honest. Because the brigade cares enough to be real with each other.
- They celebrate together. When service crushes, everyone celebrates. Not just the chef. Not just the line. Everyone. Because everyone contributed. The prep that made it possible. The dish that kept plates flowing. The whole team.
- They suffer together. When service is a disaster, when everything goes wrong, when the night is unmitigated hell—the brigade doesn't fracture. They grind through it together. Complaining to each other, sure. But not abandoning each other.
- They invest in each other. Good brigades teach. They develop people. They want everyone to get better because better teammates make everyone's life easier. There's no gatekeeping knowledge. No keeping people down to preserve your own position.
- They're loyal. When someone leaves for a better opportunity, the brigade celebrates it. When someone goes through personal shit, the brigade shows up. When someone needs help, the brigade provides it. The loyalty goes beyond just work.
Why the Brigade Matters More Than the Position
I've worked as a prep cook in a great brigade and as a sous in a terrible one. I'd take the prep position in the great brigade every time.Because the title doesn't matter. The position doesn't matter. What matters is the people you're doing it with.
The brigade makes hell survivable. This job sucks. The hours are brutal. The pay is shit. Your body breaks down. Your personal life suffers. By every objective measure, this is a terrible career choice.But the brigade? That makes it survivable. Because you're not suffering alone. You're suffering with people who get it. Who understand what it costs and why you pay it. Who make you laugh when you want to cry. Who remind you why you do this when you forget.
The brigade gives you purpose. It's not just a job when you have a real brigade. It's a mission. You show up for your people. You push harder because they're counting on you. You maintain standards because letting them down feels worse than the pain of upholding them.The brigade transforms cooking from labor into purpose. And purpose is what keeps people in this industry despite everything.
The brigade is what you'll remember. Twenty years from now, you won't remember most of the services. Most of the dishes. Most of the stress and chaos.But you'll remember your brigade. The people you ground with. The inside jokes. The impossible nights you survived together. The bonds forged in heat and pressure.That's what lasts. Not the position. Not the title. The people.
photo by: Anton
The Millennial Take
Older generations in the industry sometimes shit on millennials for caring about team culture and wanting to feel valued. Like that's soft. Like that's weakness.But here's our take: we figured out that life is short and spending it with people you hate is stupid.We'll grind. We'll work hard. We'll push through brutal conditions. But we're doing it with people we actually care about. With a brigade that's real. With a team that's worth the suffering.The old model—just shut up and work, loyalty is for suckers, everyone's replaceable—that's what creates the toxic kitchens with high turnover and burned-out chefs.We're not asking for participation trophies. We're building brigades that actually function. That create loyalty through genuine care. That make people want to stay because the team is worth fighting for.That's not weakness. That's evolution. And it's why the best kitchens run by millennials have crazy low turnover and insane loyalty.We get that the brigade is the point. The position is just the role you play within it.
The Bottom Line
The best thing about being head chef? Leading people who earned your respect and who make the impossible possible every night.The best thing about being a line cook? Having people next to you who cover you, push you, and understand you in ways nobody else does.The best thing about being prep? Being part of building something bigger than yourself with people who value what you contribute.The best thing about being a steward? Being the foundation of an operation that recognizes your importance and sees your potential.No matter where you are in the brigade, the position doesn't matter as much as the people. The title is whatever. The crew is everything.Because this job will break you. But the brigade? The brigade is what makes the breaking survivable. What makes the suffering meaningful. What makes you come back day after day despite knowing exactly how much it's going to hurt.The kitchen brigade. At every position. That's the thing that makes this whole crazy career worth it.Not the food. Not the acclaim. Not the authority. Just the people who understand what this costs and choose to do it alongside you anyway.That's the best part. At any position. Always.
