Andy, chefs don't come under admiration. They are not elevated as TV stars, they are just doing a job. I worked as a kitchen porter in the sixties and the chef was a harrassed man whose job was to produce 500 meals a day for a building full of office workers. As a chef de cuisine, he had to cooperate with an office wallah. They worked together to deliver the goods. We dealt with sacks of ready-prepared chips, we dealt with tubs full of lambs' kidneys (stinking of urine), we whipped up real cream for the custard-pie shenanigans at the Lord Mayor's parade, we washed down the plughole many litres of ice-cream when the fridge had broken down overnight (I had my share!).
Chef was the boss (he killed a kitchen porter once was the joke for the new kids like me!) and he rarely ate on the job, simply smoked and looked worried (and flirted with Betty, the patissiere).
Lovely man, and I was told when I left to pursue my musical career that I would be welcome back whenever I needed a job.
Lovely memories.