The thinking chef
James Khoza, newly elected president of the country’s chefs association, has plans to change the way South Africans look at food
Many of our chefs have never had the opportunity to see the bigger picture, whereas a chef in Europe will go to the market, meet the producers, the farmers; see where the cold chain starts
As a trainee chef in the 1990s, James Khoza used to hide his chef’s whites under other clothing before returning to his home in Dobsonville, Soweto.
“In the township then, if you wore a chef’s uniform they’d laugh at you; you’d be a joke. They’d say you were doing a woman’s job. I never told people I was a chef. I’d leave home early and say I was going to the factory. Those days you were expected to be a factory worker, a teacher, a policeman, a nurse . . . definitely not a chef.”
Things are different now. As executive chef at the Sandton Convention Centre, Khoza heads a battalion of culinary professionals who are responsible for feeding large and important crowds. He is also, as of three weeks ago, president of the South African Chefs Association, the national organisation founded 40 years ago to represent the interests and uphold the standards of chefs, cooks and caterers countrywide.
These days, when he strides across the skywalk that connects Tsogo Sun’s convention centre with its Sandton Sun hotel, Khoza is greeted with a respect he could not have envisaged back when he had to conceal his professional ambitions.
“I’ve met men since then who say they always wanted to be a chef but they were scared of the stigma associated with it, that cultural idea that men must not cook. But things have changed. TV helped. With programmes like MasterChef, public interest in our industry has skyrocketed,” says Khoza. “We’ve seen kitchens move from the back to the front so customers can see the chefs at work.”
There is also a downside to this. TV chefs create misconceptions about the real nature of the work. Khoza says the first thing he tells new recruits is not to be tricked by the illusory glory fed to them by the media.
“On MasterChef, for instance, all the real work is done by a team of chefs behind the scenes. The competitors don’t get their hands dirty. When the director says ‘action’, everything is already there: washed, chopped, prepared.”
Khoza says telling trainees about the less glamorous side of cheffing is necessary, but he tries not to frighten them too much.
“We need the injection of young blood,” he says. “These days so many young people just want to wear a suit and work in an office. Even when they want to be chefs, a lot of trainees move from the kitchen to the front office and never come back.”
As a board member of the chefs association since 2009, Khoza has long taken a keen interest in the development of talent and the organisation of more competitions for young chefs. As its new head, one of his immediate goals is to find a new sponsor for South Africa’s national Culinary Olympics team. Other plans include the launch of an industry-standard trade test administered by the association — to help eliminate fly-bynight chef schools offering substandard qualifications.
He intends working with the government and industry on the minimum-wage issue as well as better working conditions for chefs. “Saca is about helping fellow chefs, and you can’t say you are helping your fellow chefs if you are not looking at their problems.”
As for his own hours, Khoza has tried to reduce his shifts to 10 hours, “but people want to see the chef around”, he says. Balancing work and home is always tricky for a chef. His children do not plan to follow his career. “One is into art and design; one wants to be a pilot and spends all his time at Rand Airport,” Khoza shrugs stoically. “No more chefs; I’m the last one.”
Millennials know everything
The kitchen of the Sandton Sun hotel is smaller than the convention centre’s culinary empire across the road, but it is run with the same precision. The young chefs chopping and slicing and piping chocolate scribbles onto silicone paper all greet Khoza deferentially with no sign of fear.
Khoza is equally amused and frustrated by millennials. “They know everything and they are always right,” he laughs. “You can’t tell them what to do in a firm way; they up and leave.” But he loves developing talent.
“I tell trainees that attitude is everything. You need to drive their passions, encourage them; make them understand the brigade discipline and why everyone says: ‘Yes, Chef!’ I tell them if they are willing to listen and to get knocked around for a few years, good will come.”
No one is literally knocked about any more. The kitchens of high-end hotels and restaurants were once notoriously abusive environments, but Khoza says this has changed dramatically. “It was bad long ago. You wouldn’t say anything because you needed the job, but the industry has changed. We have a new crop of youngsters who know what they want. If you are domineering and you bully them, you will lose them. You need to nurture them.”
But the kitchen brigade is still run according to a strict hierarchy. “The system is what makes us chefs,” says Khoza. “The structure gives us credibility. You can’t become an executive chef two years out of college. You need to have moved through the ranks and have gained the respect and experience to be able to lead.”
It is rare for a chef under 40 to be made commander of a culinary army. “Only from 40 onwards would you be considered mature enough to withstand the pressure and deal with the demands. The younger guys crack. They must understand that it’s not about the title, it’s about the responsibility.”
Khoza was made an executive chef at 38, “but I went through a lot of coaching”.
I fell in love with the precision
If it hadn’t been for a wedding, he might have been wiring switches today instead of commanding a white-jacketed army. His mother was housekeeper to an electrician who sent his employee’s teenage son to learn the trade. But one Saturday, while helping with the lighting for a wedding, young Khoza walked through the kitchen of the Carlton Hotel and was smitten by what he saw. “I didn’t understand then what the sections were and what everyone was doing, but I fell in love with the precision, the focus, the sense of purpose.”
His mother recognised his determination and paid for him to attend Wits Technikon. After graduating he joined Southern Sun (now Tsogo Sun), where training and development manager Karen Borain was a second mother to him, sending him on courses to learn every facet of the business.
“It is no longer enough just to cook,” he says. “To be a chef you also need to know the business side: food costing, sustainability, trends, parameters, everything.”
Another mentor was group chef Billy Gallagher, who chose Khoza to work with him on TV shows, coached him in kitchen dynamics, entered him in competitions and sent him to work at hotel restaurants in Asia and Europe, including a stint at Thomas Kammeier’s Michelin-starred Hugo’s in Berlin and less enjoyable gigs at South African embassies in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Guinea.
“Billy, rest his soul, gave me my breaks,” says Khoza. “He also gave me books. He’d say, ‘Son, read this Charlie Trotter [the Chicago chef who revolutionised culinary training in the US] and then I’ll give you another one.’ When I gave it back he would test me to make sure I’d actually read it properly.”
It is clear from a walk through the kitchen that plenty of youngsters view Khoza as their own Billy Gallagher, but he’s not so sure.
“They think anyone over 30 is a dinosaur,” he laughs. “They don’t come to you for advice, they go to the internet.”
Khoza’s goal as the association president is to create “thinking chefs”.
“Everyone can be a thinking chef,” he says. “When chefs become thinkers, they start noticing how all the little details fit together. Many of our chefs have never had the opportunity to see the bigger picture, whereas a chef in Europe will go to the market, meet the producers, the farmers; see where the cold chain starts. People in general are much more food-savvy now. But we chefs, who are supposed to be the custodians of food, can still be very limited in our thinking. There needs to be collaboration between sectors of the food industry: suppliers and end users. Saca’s job is to foster those relationships, invite experts to impart knowledge to chefs at our conventions and expos. That will change our industry for the better.”
Another issue high on his agenda is gender equality. Although the balance of students in chef schools is about 70% women to 30% men, this is not reflected in senior kitchen positions.
“We must simply see just a fellow artisan,” says Khoza. “We talk skill. We don’t talk gender or race. Now we just need to work out the details. It’s all very well to say we must embrace everybody and be united, but you have to define embracing and unity and how you make it happen.”
He has time, and plenty of collaborators willing to say “Yes, Chef!” In tune with a more inclusive kitchen environment, Khoza does not wear the long white hat he has earned. But he is no longer embarrassed to wear his white jacket in the streets.