As an avid follower of the show “Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares” – a reality program exploring the cold, stark realities facing numerous mid-level restaurants – I find myself greatly impressed by this titan of the restaurant industry.
Despite the air, tempers, crudeness and sensationalism, there are core elements that hit home, obliterating the negatives. It is a dissection of respect (don’t expect that from Ramsay unless you earn it in action), integrity, commitment and a passionate belief in what you are doing. Unlike some filmed charities, this program is not about providing fish, but showing people how to fish once again – people that have lost their way, their spirit, their sense of reality.
Ramsay is an imposing figure in reputation and stature, a hard man with a hard face. This kitchen crusader has made a single word into a jack-hammer, slamming sense into unbudging blockheads, demolishing arrogance and habitual incompetence along the way. His wafty mane reminds one of a lion, with a poised presence ready to strike a disciplining blow to the cubs playing before him, messing about in whatever they might be consider to be worthwhile. “You’re fu*king lions. Act like it!”
He’s a pusher and a breaker. He puts you on edge like a razor blade scraping along your scrotum and considers social finesse as necessary as a cactus rammed up your buttocks. He holds no punches, there is no relenting in any confrontation. If you are on the edge, he will push you over the brink. If you bend backward, he will not let go until you break.
Is there method in his madness? Is it not in times of true turmoil that we show our colours? How does one remove the superficial sheen if not by abrasively scrubbing at pride? How does one mould clay if not by pounding it flat and shapeless to remove impurity and imperfection? If you shape a pot to find it an affront to sense and sensibility, but your pride prevents starting again, you need an external agent to force renewal. You need Gordon Ramsay.
The thumb of criticism digs deep into his chin before the lash cracks and even the mightiest whimper. He does not subscribe to the weak willed notion of flattery – there’s nothing to achieve by sugar coating sh*t. A critical eye misses nothing and the vitriol of an unfettered tongue spares none. His blatant insults are shocks to the system, stunning his poor prey into relenting – just long enough so they give in to another way.
Now I have never cared much for arrogance, but when there is substance to one’s self awareness bound to merit, when confidence is not tainted with posturing, then it is admirable and inspiring. To be sure, this chef is an inspiration. Undeniably a master of cutting to the chase, his brisk manner smacks efficiency, his constant cursing testament to a hunger for success and a passion for food that seems to permeate from every pore, infusing those around him.
From the look of him you’d think him to be a clubfoot ballerina, yet the elegance and exactness of his execution is unquestioned. His approach is considered and clinical. Surely, not all of his own conception – but great men are great by surrounding themselves by others of greatness.
Every mannerism is swift and final. Yet, even against the odds he does not give in. Even when people do not believe in themselves, he is able to reverse sentiment and doubt – or at least suspend it. He is a nemesis to self-deception, a cold shower to emotive delusions, impetus to the stagnant. He is passionate, striving for perfection and seeking no less in others.
An arsehole? An arrogant prick? No, a fu*king example.
Tags: crude, Food, Gordon Ramsay, kitchen nightmare, Ramsay, reality, sensational, Television
