Almost every chef I know says the same sentence at least once a month: “I can't find people.” Restaurant owners say it too, and usually blame the generation, the economy or the pandemic. All of that is real, but I don't think the root is there.
The root is simpler, and harder to fix: the kitchen as a workplace hasn't changed. The food has, a lot: techniques, sourcing, plating, what guests expect. But in most kitchens I have seen, the way the work is run still comes from the 19th century: the loudest person decides, you learn by enduring, and people are managed by pressure.
Young people today have more choices than we had. And they choose not to walk into a place where the work is exhausting and nobody says clearly what is expected or where it leads.
So I don't ask “where are all the young cooks?” I ask “what kind of kitchen would a young person want to stay in?”01 — The Problem
What Is Actually Wrong
There isn't one problem here but several, each feeding the next. And the numbers show what kitchens already feel.
According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, the quit rate in accommodation and food services was 5.6% in 2023, nearly double the national average across all industries. Europe looks similar: a 2024 study by HOTREC (the European hospitality confederation) found that 61% of hospitality businesses across the EU reported serious difficulty filling kitchen positions. In the UK, the Office for National Statistics listed chef as a “shortage occupation” for the fourth year running. Here in Serbia and the wider Balkans, emigration adds to it: many good young cooks leave for Western Europe, where the job is the same but at least the pay is better.
In the kitchen it looks like this: two empty stations, a head chef covering three positions, a prep list that never gets finished because there is no one to do it. The problem is in how the kitchen is set up, not in the generation.
- No visible way up. A cook comes in, works the line, and maybe becomes a sous chef after a few years, without anyone ever saying what was expected. The path from beginner to experienced cook is rarely agreed on and almost never written down. In many kitchens “progression” means lasting until someone above you leaves. That is more a lottery than a path.
- Knowledge is passed on by word of mouth, by chance. You learn by watching, by getting it wrong, by being told once. Recipes aren't written down, there is no training manual, no written routine. When an experienced cook leaves, what they know leaves with them, and one resignation costs the kitchen months or years of experience.
- The pay doesn't match the job. The hours are long, the body gets tired, and the pay can't compete with jobs that offer less stress and more freedom. As far as I know, a line cook in most European cities earns between €1,200 and €1,800 net a month, for 50–60 hour weeks, split shifts, weekends and no working from home. A warehouse worker earns more, with regular hours and air conditioning. The sum is simple, and young people can count.
- Endurance counts for more than knowledge. In too many kitchens the badge of honour is still “I survived”, not “I learned” or “I built something”. Suffering gets romanticised: 16-hour days, burned hands, chefs who shout, as if pain taught you something. It doesn't. What makes a cook is repetition with order, clear feedback and tasks that get harder step by step. Exactly what most kitchens don't offer.
- No order in the work. When a kitchen has no clear roles, clear prep lists, accurate costing and a steady way of running service, the chaos isn't creative. It's just chaos, and it wears out the people inside it. The sous chef who stays until midnight because nobody wrote down how to close the kitchen isn't dedicated. They are making up for an order that isn't there.
Why We're Still Running an 1890s Model
The brigade system, the kitchen hierarchy most restaurants still use, was codified by Auguste Escoffier in the 1890s. For its time it was a big step. Escoffier borrowed from the army to organise the kitchen: a clear chain of command, specialised stations, disciplined execution. He replaced the chaos of 19th-century hotel kitchens with an order that worked.
But the world Escoffier designed it for is gone. His brigade was built for grand hotels serving 500 covers of classical French cuisine with a staff of 80. It assumed a labour market with no alternatives: men who entered the kitchen at 14 and had no other skill. It assumed that being physically present was the only way to supervise, and that whoever gave the orders also knew the most.
None of that holds in 2026. Today's kitchen is smaller, faster, more varied, and it competes with every other industry for the same young people. Yet we still promote by seniority rather than skill, expect people to pick the job up by osmosis instead of teaching it step by step, and measure dedication in hours worked rather than in the work done.
Escoffier gave us the brigade. He didn't give us a way to develop people, because in his day people were replaceable. Today they aren't.
03 — The MythYou Can't Hire Passion
In hospitality people keep saying the answer is to “find people with passion”. As if passion were something you dig out of the ground.
In my experience passion comes after, not before. People grow to love work where they feel they know something, are moving forward and belong. You can't hire passion; you set up the conditions for it.
I have seen this more than once. A cook arrives without much will, already thinking of leaving. You give them a clear role. You show them exactly what is expected this week. You teach them one technique until they have it. You let them cost a dish and see where the margin is. Three months later the same person comes in early, asks questions, suggests things. They didn't find passion, they found order, and that gave them a reason to care.
I have seen the opposite too: talented young cooks who came into the kitchen genuinely excited, burned out within a year, because the place gave them no order, no feedback and no way forward. They had the passion. What they lacked was a kitchen worth the effort.
The conditions I mean are quite concrete:
- A cook knows what is expected of them today, this week and this month.
- Training that lets skills be passed on and progress be seen.
- The rules are said out loud and written down, not unwritten and in the hands of whoever is loudest that day.
- The work is hard, but it is clear why and where it leads.
What a Modern Kitchen Looks Like
Modernising a kitchen doesn't mean buying new equipment or changing the menu. It means sorting out how the work is done: the unwritten arrangement that decides how the team holds up when it gets busy.
In AsketCuisine this rests on one equation and five steps of learning. The equation says who does what and why: the same formula that writes a dish also divides the work. The steps show what a cook becomes as they grow. Together they replace the vague hierarchy inherited from the brigade with something clear, measurable and, most of all, teachable.
04.1Roles, Not Just Titles
In the traditional kitchen “line cook” is a title. It says nothing about what that person actually does, what they answer for or where they are headed. Two line cooks can work side by side for years, each with a different idea of their job.
In AsketCuisine, the jobs follow the equation of the dish. Terra is the ingredient and the pantry: purchasing, receiving, the season, bases of known concentration, the cost of every gram. Ars is the stations, and every place on the plate has one — the anchor, the hot station for base and sauce, the cold station for sharpness, crust and breath, pastry for sweetness — each performing reactions with a number over every arrow. Modus is the tasting: the line check, the salt balance of the bite, feedback about the plate and never the person. Mensa is the table: the pass, the pace of courses, the link to the floor. The chef writes the dish card, which binds all four, and develops the people who carry them.
When roles are clear, there is less friction. A cook who knows exactly what their job is, and what it isn't, stops guessing, stops stepping on other people's toes and stops pulling back. To me, clarity is the most underrated tool in running a kitchen. And with less friction, people stay longer: few leave a job where they know what they are doing and feel valued.
04.2Written Standards, Not Knowledge in One Head
Every recipe should be written down with its yield, prep method, plating and allergen flags. Every routine, from receiving goods to closing the kitchen, should have written instructions. That isn't bureaucracy; it is how a kitchen stops depending on a few particular people.
When the senior cook is off sick, does the kitchen stall? When the sous chef goes on holiday, does quality drop? If the answer to either is yes, the kitchen isn't running on order, it is hanging on people. And that breaks easily.
Writing things down does something else too: a junior cook can improve on their own. When the standard is written, they can read it, practise it and measure themselves against it. When it lives only in someone's head, the junior cook depends on whether that person is around and what mood they are in.
04.3Training as Investment, Not Cost
When I suggest proper training, the answer I hear most is: “We don't have time.” I think it is the other way round: you don't have time because you don't train. Untrained people make mistakes, work slowly, need watching all the time and leave within months. Then you hire again, and again, and that costs far more than any training.
Proper training means: you watch, you assess, you practise exactly what is missing, and you follow up. It means setting aside real hours, not “when we get a quiet day” hours. It means the head chef spends two hours this week teaching a cook how to break down a lamb shoulder properly, instead of doing it alone for the fifteenth time while the cook watches from the side.
In a kitchen, training pays back quickly and you can see it: fewer mistakes, faster work, lower food cost, people staying longer. A cook who has been properly trained on a station can run it alone within a few weeks. A cook left to figure it out may need months, and the mistakes along the way cost real money.
04.4Open Costs, Not Just Orders
When a cook knows that the lamb shoulder they are trimming has a 30% yield loss, and that every 10 grams of waste costs real money, they trim it differently. When a line cook knows tonight's food cost target is 28% and can see the actual number during service, they plate differently.
In most kitchens I know, the numbers are kept from the team. The chef knows the food cost, maybe the sous chef, and that's it. So 80% of the team, the people who actually handle every ingredient, have no idea what their work costs.
Teaching a cook to think about cost doesn't make them anxious, it makes them a more complete cook. Someone who understands food cost, yield, margin and waste can run part of the business, not just a station. There aren't many people like that and they are hard to replace, so they usually get paid more, move up faster and are treated better. Open numbers help both the restaurant and the cook.
05 — The OpportunityWhy Now
The shortage is real, and it won't go away soon. Europe's working-age population is shrinking. Immigration helps in part, but brings its own questions of integration and training. In 2030 there will probably be even fewer people available for kitchen work than today.
There is an opportunity in this too: the kitchens that sort themselves out first will find good people more easily. Not because they are fashionable, but because they are healthier places to work. When everyone is competing for the same few people, the kitchen that offers clarity, a way forward and respect has the edge.
Young people aren't lazy, they are choosy, and they are right to be. Someone who asks “What will I learn here? Where does this lead? Am I respected?” isn't entitled, just sensible. Kitchens that can answer those questions honestly will find people more easily.
The rest will keep saying the same sentence every month: “I can't find people.”
A kitchen doesn't need louder chefs, it needs better order. In a kitchen like that, cooks stay longer, learn faster and care more.
That is what I work on at AsketCuisine. I don't find staff for kitchens; I help set up the work so that people want to stay. If your kitchen struggles to find and keep good people, a louder job ad won't fix it. A clearer way of working will. Start with the methodology.