What It Really Means to Be a Private Chef

An unexpected dinner assignment opened the door to a different side of my culinary career. Working in private households taught me that understanding the people you cook for matters just as much as the food you prepare.

My first opportunity to work as a private chef came about quite unexpectedly when a mutual contact asked me if I would help another private chef with a dinner event that had become too big for her to handle alone. After one full day of prep, we delivered a flawless dinner service leaving everyone delighted. The principal and I got off to a really great start, he liked me and my work, and when the original chef resigned, they invited me back for a permanent engagement.

What started with that dinner opened the door to a different side of the culinary profession I had known for more than half of my career. I went on to hold permanent positions as a private chef, working much more closely with the people I cooked for than I had in the hotel industry.

My formal culinary training had given me the technical foundation I needed, while my years in luxury hotels taught me the importance of professional standards and service. I was fortunate that discretion and flexibility came naturally to me. What changed was the relationship with the people I was serving.

In a hotel, you can put a great deal of care into a menu and know very little about the people eating it. Working in a private household allowed me to get to know my clients, their tastes, habits and routines. Over time, I could anticipate what they wanted without constantly having to ask.

One principal, for example, liked having dessert every second day. I learned to anticipate that preference. It might seem like a small detail, but when you cook for the same people every day, knowing those little things makes a difference. You pay attention, remember what matters to them and begin to understand their individual needs. This is just as valuable as the fine food you prepare.

Planning, managing a food and beverage budget and cooking is naturally the centre of my work, although it is seldom the whole of it. In one placement, I occasionally delivered prepared food to friends of the household and helped other members of staff when an extra pair of hands was needed. We were a team, and they would often jump in to help me when I was in a bind.

The responsibilities of a private chef depend on what the principal demands, the household arrangements and the staff available. That flexibility extends to whatever the principal demands, whether that's an elaborate dinner or, in the case of a friend in the industry, preparing homemade baby food.

As private chefs we understand the importance of being independent and willing to help, while recognising that everyone has their own responsibilities. And, of course, things don't always go according to plan.

There are times when menus might be decided late, when funds for shopping are delayed, or when dinner plans change and become increasingly elaborate. A sudden business lunch might pop up with a request for steaks when there are none. This is a fine way to fuel anxiety. Those situations can test your patience, especially when preparation time is already limited.

I find it important to remain outwardly unshaken, regardless of what is happening around me. This is important to preserve the tranquillity of the household, it's not a restaurant kitchen where a melodramatic meltdown might be the norm. This is why it matters to listen carefully, clarify what is required and explain when something simply can't be done at that moment. Being adaptable doesn't mean promising the impossible. It means using your experience and judgment to find a sensible way forward while maintaining your professional standards.

There is little value in making everyone else anxious because the chef is having a bad day.

Working in someone's home brings you into close contact with their private lives, requiring you to know exactly when to remain in the background. You become familiar with their routines, and inevitably you may see or hear things that have nothing to do with your work.

During my professional career, I learned a saying that has stayed with me:

To see and not look, to hear and not listen, and to know and not divulge.

For me, that captures one of the most important qualities of private service: being invisible and accessible at the same time.

A private chef has to be attentive enough to recognise when something is required, yet discreet enough to respect the household's privacy. There is a fine balance between being available and becoming intrusive. Knowing that difference, and understanding what should remain confidential, is essential to earning and keeping trust.

What I enjoy most about being a private chef is the opportunity to make people happy.

Cooking for someone you have come to know personally carries a particular satisfaction. You understand their preferences and can prepare food with those individual tastes in mind. Sometimes it is the simplest gesture, such as remembering when someone enjoys dessert, that makes the service feel personal. I have always regarded cooking and hospitality as a love language. There is genuine pleasure in doing something thoughtful for another person, particularly when it comes from understanding what they enjoy rather than trying to impress them.

This quiet, personal satisfaction is a far cry from how chefs have been glamorised by the media over the past few decades. Private chefs have been further romanced. People imagine luxurious homes, mega yachts, fine ingredients and the smiling chef serving elaborate dinners. While some of those things might be part of the environment, many high-net-worth clients prefer a much quieter luxury, and the glamorous image is often far from the reality of the daily work.

And then there are those chefs who seem more interested in making themselves the attraction. There is nothing wrong with taking pride in your abilities, but if you need to be the centre of attention, perhaps you have misunderstood whose home you are working in.

For me, the greatest satisfaction comes from knowing I have served people well. The cooking matters enormously, but so does the trust they place in me and the way I conduct myself within their home.

To me, being a private chef means the death of ego and the birth of service—expressed through a love of cooking, professionalism and discretion.