kitchen stories: patterns of recognition in contemporary high cuisine

Kitchen Stories: Patterns of Recognition in Contemporary High CuisineAuthor(s): Vanina LeschzinerSource: Sociological Forum, Vol. 22, No. 1 (Mar., 2007), pp. 77-101Published by: SpringerStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20110190 .

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Sociological Forum, Vol. 22, No. I, March 2007 (? 2007) DOI: 10.HH/j.1573-7861.2006.00005.x

Kitchen Stories: Patterns of Recognition in

Contemporary High Cuisine

Vanina Leschziner1

How are patterns of cultural production informed by the nature of the field? In particular, I am concerned with how the mode of cultural production

mediates relations among creators and, in turn, how these relations affect cultural production. I also inquire into how these two sets of relations are

influenced by the connection between the field of cultural production and the

larger social world. I rest my inquiry in the field of culinary arts. Drawing on ethnographic research with elite chefs in mid- to high-status restaurants in New York City and San Francisco, where I have conducted 45 in-depth interviews and observation in their restaurant kitchens, I analyze how actors

subjectively manage the institutional conditions of authorship and differenti ation through their discursive practices on the mode of cultural production and on their relations with other creators. By analyzing how chefs manage these issues, we will also observe how they subjectively deal with their objec tive position in the field.

KEY WORDS: field; cultural production; authorship; differentiation; cognition; cuisine.

INTRODUCTION

Oftentimes, individuals credit their career success to persistence and

luck?being in the right place at the right time. What mechanisms enable

persistence and luck to happen systematically? Established norms of be

havior in institutional organizations and social networks underpin these

two phenomena. Social actors' position vis-?-vis others in their field?their

job rank, their workplace's status and their social connections?affects

1 Department of Sociology, Rutgers, The State University of New Jersey, Lucy Stone Hall,

A340, 54 Joyce Kilmer Avenue, Piscataway, New Jersey 08854; e-mail: vleschziner@socio

logy.rutgers.edu.

77

0884-8971/06/0300-0031/0 ? 2007 Blackwell Publishing Ltd



78 Leschziner

their work. But actors' field position is not the only social attribute which

leads to successful careers.

Looking at a cultural field,2 we will find that the mode of cultural

production affects the strategies that lead to successful mobility. I take the

mode of cultural production to mean, in the early Marx' sense (see Marx,

[1845] 1965, [1859] 1970), a form of activity: what individuals produce and

how they produce it. As I am concerned with cultural fields, the mode of

cultural production refers to the relation between creators and their prod ucts. Following this understanding of the mode of cultural production, the

social conditions of the field of activity (i.e., what creators produce and

how they do it) affect relations among creators.

In fields where products are always associated with the author's

name, relations between creators and their products individualize produc tion. This is the case of sociology, for instance, where we always know

?and care about?who authored an article or a book. As individualized

production turns creators' names into capital, it makes reputation more

salient. Cultural production is often built on ideas of others. In sociology, the connection between the new idea and its predecessor is acknowledged.

We use references to give credit for borrowed ideas and to make our influ

ences explicit. If we look at other fields where production is individualized and

based on previous work, but where the connection between a new idea

and its source is not made explicit, we will find that the relations creators

establish with one another differ, and so do the dynamics of creation at

the level of the field. This is the case of high cuisine. Certainly, culinary

production also differs from sociology in terms of its audience, mecha

nisms of control of reputation, and connection to the larger social world.

Culinary production is geared toward a lay audience, and it is evaluated

by lay actors. Both the audience and the judges are external to the field.

Additionally, cuisine differs from sociology in being overtly coupled with

the economic market, as it is a for-profit cultural production. How are patterns of cultural production informed by the nature of

the field? In particular, I am concerned with how the mode of cultural

production mediates relations among creators and, in turn, how these rela

tions affect cultural production. I also inquire into how these two sets of

relations are influenced by the connection between the field of cultural

production and the larger social world. This focus on the effect of the

2 I use the notion of field in the sense of a group of actors whose activity is mutually orien

ted to each other. The sciences provide a paradigmatic example. Here we see a configur ation where actors are (and certainly need to be) cognizant of what others do in order to

act and produce, and where the dynamics of production are relatively autonomous from

the larger social space.



Patterns of Recognition in Contemporary High Cuisine 79

mode of cultural production on creator-creator relations and the dynam ics at the level of the field implies that I am less interested in how connec

tions among social actors affect production in the field. We have much

insight into this phenomenon thanks to the contributions of field theory, neo-institutionalism and network theory. Interested in organizational con

figurations, these theoretical perspectives look mostly at the institutional

level?the relationship between structural positions and particular types of

social actions. Focus has been directed to the social position of an individ

ual in the field (Bourdieu, 1976, [1984] 1993, [1992] 1996; Collins, 1998;

McLaughlin, 2001; Monin and Durand, 2003; Mulkay, 1972; Phillips and

Zuckerman, 2001; Rao et ai, 2003, 2005; Sawyer, 2003), the characteris

tics of social connections in the organization (Clemens, 1997; Clemens and

Cook, 1999; Ferguson, 1998, 2004; Hollingsworth, 2000; Morrill, forth

coming; Owen-Smith and Powell, 2004; White and White, 1965), and the

connections between actors across organizations (Burt, 2004; Clemens,

1997; Clemens and Cook, 1999; Giuffre, 1999; McLaughlin, 2001; Morrill,

forthcoming; Owen-Smith and Powell, 2004). Less attention has been paid in sociology to the relationship between creators and products. It has

mostly come from the sociology of science's interest in the technological and social dimensions of scientific research (Knorr Cetina, 1999; Latour,

[1987] 1997), and Latour's (2005) actor-network theory. These works,

however, do not address the connection between the mode of cultural pro duction and creator-creator relations.

Drawing on ethnographic research with elite chefs in mid- to high status restaurants in New York City and San Francisco,3 where I have

conducted 45 in-depth interviews and observation in their restaurant

kitchens,4 I analyze how actors subjectively manage the institutional con

ditions of authorship and differentiation through their discursive practices on the mode of cultural production and on their relations with other crea

tors. By analyzing how chefs manage these issues, we will also observe how they subjectively deal with their objective position in the field.5

In a field where creators are fundamentally attached to their products

(i.e., where creation is individualized), and thus where personal reputation 3

The restaurants in the sample have received positive critical reviews by influential culinary arbiters. They have all been awarded stars from the most highly respected publications

(New York Times, and San Francisco Chronicle and San Francisco magazine for each city). All the restaurants do western, not so-called "ethnic" foods. The notion of "ethnic" foods

is applied here phenomenologically. This category obtains its meaning and validity as it is

used by chefs intersubjectively. 4 Interviews are confidential and anonymous, so I do not use chefs' or restaurants' names.

5 Chefs' objective field position is determined by their restaurant status. As chefs' and restau

rants' careers are codependent in the attainment of prestige in the field, they are here taken as a unit (Giuffre, 1999; Rao et ai, 2003). Rao, Monin, and Durand note the codepend ence in French cuisine; Giuffre shows it in the context of artists and galleries.



80 Leschziner

is valuable capital, authorship becomes particularly significant. Concur

rently, imperatives of differentiation are raised. Distinction from competi tors is a requisite for the ability to make claims of authorship and earn

reputation. Claims of authorship and imperatives of differentiation are

complicated in cuisine by the fuzzy nature of the mode of cultural produc tion. First, the boundary between one chefs recipe and another's is difficult

to draw. Second, the intense knowledge exchange which exists in cuisine is

not legally regulated. Only rarely can recipes be patented, and they cannot

be copyrighted (like all books, cookbooks are copyrighted, but the recipes are not). Cuisine operates as a norm-based knowledge-exchange regime

(Fauchart and von Hippel, 2006). The fuzzy nature of the mode of cultural

production makes claims of authorship and attempts at differentiation more fragile. It thus makes creator-creator relations more fragile as well.

In cuisine, as in cultural fields in general, reputation rests on authenti

city. As Peterson (1997) notes (see also Rao et al, 2005), authenticity

requires two qualities: conformity to a style and originality. Constantly

changing styles makes an actor seem inauthentic. Yet, loyalty to a style without an element of novelty appears as nothing but a copy of somebody else's creation. In fields where cultural production is individualized and

overtly coupled with the economic market, where products are judged by

lay critics and audience, conformity and originality are two imperatives

coexisting in tension. Products cannot be too original because they must be

recognizable for the audience (DiMaggio and Powell, 1983; Phillips and

Zuckerman, 2001; Zuckerman, 1999), yet they ought to be distinct enough to stand out among competitors, and earn the creator more reputation.

Imperatives of conformity to stylistic traditions and differentiation thus

affect cultural production. However, reputation is rather unpredictable in

fields such as cuisine, given that an audience external to the organization diffuses the control of reputation (Clemens et al, 1995; see also Faulkner,

[1983] 1987). It is not implied here that there is a necessary pursuit of repu tation on the part of creators. Nonetheless, there are real constraints on

creation in a field, some of which actors are?and need to be?aware of, and others of which are incorporated as dispositions to act (Lahire, 2003).

We must understand cultural production as partially purposeful, having to

do with individuals' creational decisions and professional trajectories, and

partially bounded by incorporated principles of perception and creation.

CONFORMITY AND ORIGINALITY

The tension between conformity and originality in the dynamics of

cultural production in the culinary field is notable at both the institutional




and individual levels. Here, I delimit field in terms of locality because it is

where potential competitors are. At the institutional level, we see the ten

sion between conformity and originality in the interplay between tradition

and innovation. Insofar as innovation has an intrinsic value in cuisine

because it is understood as an indicator of creativity, there are going to be

regular attempts at innovation. Every new season brings a new ingredient, a new ingredient pairing, or a new technique, driving culinary creation in a constant flow of fads and fashions (Hirsch, 1972). But some innovations cannot fit in some culinary traditions, and chefs need to be loyal to their

culinary style. Their restaurant is known for a type of food and service, what can be phenomenologically translated to mean that their restaurant

promises a type of experience, so that there are built-in expectations for

such experience. Any innovation chefs make must fit within their style.

They may want to cook with a new product offered this season, but often

the product does not fit with the restaurant's profile. Typically this

involves ingredients that are too down-market for a high-status restaurant, or alternatively ingredients which are too expensive for a restaurant's price

point. This also commonly involves ethnic ingredients which acquire a

faddish status in a season but cannot always be adapted to the restaur

ant's style.

At the individual level, chefs' perceptions of three constraints on their

culinary creations make the tension between conformity and originality evident. The three constraints are (1) demands to adhere to a style, as I

have just suggested, be it a regional cuisine their food represents, the res

taurant's style, or their own signature style; (2) make recognizable dishes, in order not to alienate customers with the menu; and (3) make a product that is distinguishable from other restaurants' products so that their res

taurant's appeal is increased and they attract customers (Phillips and

Zuckerman, 2001; Zuckerman, 1999). Chefs are highly aware of the demand to make a recognizable yet

somewhat different product. The call for differentiation is institutional, but it is also sometimes subjectively driven. Some chefs want to produce something unique to satisfy their creative drive. Many of them feel a need

to regularly look for new creations to counterbalance the routine of their

work. One of their most important tasks is to ensure consistency?i.e., that dishes taste and look exactly the same over the period of hours, days,

weeks, and months. Such a daunting routine varies from one restaurant to

another, as the frequency with which menus are modified (whether parti

ally or fully) ranges from a day-to-day basis to only four times a year. Chefs often complain about the discord between customers'

demands?their limited palates, conservative preferences, dietary restric

tions, etc. Such demands constrain their creative aspirations. This is a



82 Leschziner

more acute problem for young chefs at elite restaurants. Their reputation is yet to be established, and the odds that they will distinguish themselves

from others are lower if they conform to familiar styles. Elite chefs who

have been around longer have already proven their creativity. But also,

they can better distance themselves from their chefs' role and not be frus

trated by limitations that customers impose on their creative drives.

The discord between customers' demands and their creative drives

that chefs express intensifies the tension between conformity and original

ity. Such tension is experienced as a balancing act. The following excerpt from a young chef at a high-status restaurant in New York, who wants to

realize his creative aspirations but who at the same time is mindful of the

balancing act between conformity and originality which defines his job,

represents the general awareness of the import of such balancing act.

And for me, I like to kind of incorporate these new techniques with things that

taste very good. And that, for me, that's the type of food that I like to cook. I put these subtle changes, in the techniques, things that I've learned, things that I've

come up with myself but the main thing is that the food taste good, and that peo

ple want to return for it.... It's like walking the balance, you have to stay bal

anced, you know.... Like, on the menu, for instance, some of them are pretty safe

choices. I try to balance safe with things that are a little bit more out there. So I

think people like to take chances with appetizers and not so much with entrees, so

they'll be a little bit more dangerous in the beginning.... Most of the dishes on the

menu, a good deal of, like 60%, are things that I've never seen before. (Chef at a

high-end restaurant in New York City, field notes).

In their quest for new creations, chefs read magazines and trade pub lications, they search the web, eat out, and travel. They must learn about

new flavor combinations and new ingredients in order to build fresh and

novel ideas. Introducing ingredients that no other chef has in their field

gives them an edge on their competitors. In this way, buying the first crop of seasonal produce before anybody else, importing an unknown ingredi ent, or flying in the best-quality fish from abroad helps them offer a

unique product. But more than a search for inspiration, chefs are, and feel

they need to be, informed about what their peers are doing in their own

field. Chefs in New York City and San Francisco keep up to date with

culinary trends, restaurant openings, and chefs' moves in their city. They must know what field members are producing in order to be able to keep

the fine balance between conformity and originality. There is no interest in or perception of a need to know what chefs

produce in other cities. Chefs' intrafield attention is understandable, as

they orient their actions to field members. But their intrafield attention

also reflects a tendency to emulate high-status chefs who are geographic

ally close for such chefs are more available, and more influential. This pat tern is also found among French elite chefs (Rao et al, 2003, 2005). Being




around, and frequently appearing in events, media, and publications,

high-status chefs are available because information about their work regu

larly travels through the field. Having the highest prestige in the field, their influence spreads because other creators purposefully attend to their

work. Insofar as high-status chefs are more visible and more influential, other creators are more likely to be familiar with their work than with

other chefs' work.

Because high-status chefs have connections with the best purvey ors?in both domestic and international markets?and receive preferential service from purveyors, they tend to be the first to introduce new ingredi ents in the field. Because these chefs have social connections with creators

in other culinary fields, they also tend to be the first to import new ideas to the field. New ingredients, techniques, or flavor combinations initially introduced by them are then emulated by others. An analysis of menus

from the restaurants in the sample, complemented with secondary data on

other restaurants in the field, provides evidence of this pattern of emula

tion. Menus are composed of the same ingredients, and the newer and more (formerly) unusual these ingredients, the more rapidly they prolifer ate. In one season it may be pomegranate syrup, in the next yuzu juice.6

Dishes consist of the same flavor combinations. A chef breaks culinary traditions, and socio-cognitive boundaries, using savory ingredients in des

serts, and soon thereafter other menus turn to this innovation. Dishes also

display the same techniques. A chef introduces the use of chemicals to

alter food textures, serving foams, and most menus, even at fairly tradi

tional restaurants, subsequently offer foams. Menus also display a similar

structuring of the meal. After a high-status chef in the field creates a struc

ture whereby proteins, sauces, and side dishes are ordered (and charged)

separately so that the dish is constructed by the customer, other restau

rants adapt this innovation to their menus. Finally, menus exhibit a sim

ilar writing style. A prestigious chef introduces the use of metaphors, or

quotation marks in naming dishes or components of dishes, and other cre

ators follow suit.

Naturally, the collective intrafield concern with dynamics of creation

in the field results in the intensification of patterns of conformity and ori

ginality that is evidenced in menus. The imperative to keep a fine balance

between conformity and originality is increased in cuisine by the individu

alized mode of cultural production, for reputation gains salience when

products are identified with their creators' names. This imperative is also

increased by the concurrent positive values associated with creativity and

with authenticity.

6 Yuzu is a Japanese citrus.



84 Leschziner

The coexisting patterns of emulation of geographically close chefs and

attempts of differentiation are separately manifested in two areas: rhetor

ical practices and culinary production. On the one hand, chefs' culinary

production?recipes, presentation of dishes, and menus?is unambiguous evidence of the pattern of emulation of chefs in the field. On the other

hand, their drive to make a distinct product (as the excerpt above illus

trates) leaves no doubt about their perceived need of differentiation. Para

phrasing Marx ([1859] 1970), just as our opinion of an individual is not

based on what he (or she) thinks of himself (or herself), so can we not an

alyze the dynamics of cultural production by chefs' discourses on their

practices. Rather, chefs' discourses must be explained in light of the mode

of cultural production.7 Even more telling of the imperative of differentiation and the emula

tion of close creators is what chefs do not say. There is a systematic appre

hension, and at times refusal, to acknowledge what are necessary and

customary practices: checking out other chefs' work, eating out at restau

rants with a similar culinary style to theirs, reading cookbooks, and last

but not least, emulating high-status field members. This systematic appre hension amounts to a social organization of disattention. As Zerubavel

(2002) points out on the sociology of denial, ignoring is as active and

deliberate a practice as noticing.8 We are not speaking here of a psycholo

gical inclination for denial. Attending or ignoring practices is a cognitive pattern maintained by the group. Such pattern is also context specific. Individuals may both ignore and acknowledge a practice in the same con

versation, depending on their perception of what is being talked about.

The context specificity of socio-cognitive practices is an insight which con

tributes to the notion that schemata are properties of groups and settings

(DiMaggio, 2002; Eliasoph and Lichterman, 2003). As sociologists have begun to appreciate that that which is not seen,

not done, not spoken, provides at least as much sociological insight as

overt practices, they have called attention to these traditionally overlooked

areas of social life (Brekhus, 2003; Cerulo, 2002; Eliasoph and Lichter

man, 2003; Lamont, 1992; Mullaney, 2005; Zerubavel, 2002). For our pur

poses here, contrasting chefs' discourses with what remains unspoken illuminates two main patterns: (1) the practices that, although regular in

7 In the Preface to 'A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy,' Marx ([1859]

1970:15) writes "Just as our opinion of an individual is not based on what he thinks of

himself, so can we not judge of such a period of transformation by its own consciousness; on the contrary, this consciousness must be explained rather from the contradictions of

material life, from the existing conflict between the social productive forces and the rela

tions of production." 8 Zerubavel (2002:24-25) notes the "optical socialization" at work in the normative organiza tion of attending and ignoring.




action, are ignored or denied, and in general apprehensively dealt with in

discourse and (2) individuals' handling of the call for differentiation. In

effect, the contrast illuminates how the mode of cultural production affects the relations creators draw with other creators.9 It is the kind of

reaction we are able to observe in the context of in-depth interviews and

ethnographic work that demonstrates the extent of chefs' apprehension about some of their practices. Some reactions are verbal, as in their denial

of checking out other chefs' work, consulting cookbooks, or emulating peers (when there is evidence to the contrary). Further verbal reactions are their justifications that always follow their statements about these

practices. Whether they admit they go out to eat or deny it, their justifica tions tend to underscore they do not go to restaurants to check out their

peers' work, but for other purposes (this is outlined below). Other reac

tions are nonverbal, as in the uncomfortable tone in their voice, their

facial and bodily expressions, or a change in their general attitude.

Disattention

Just as we need to be up-to-date with current publications in our

sociology subdisciplines, but also be familiar with the scholarly tendencies

in the discipline as a whole, chefs need to know what their peers in their

market niche and in the field at large are producing. They go out to eat

on their own. Additionally, some restaurants have a structured system for

sending chefs and cooks out to eat, in which case the restaurant pays for

their meals (as well as for trips if it involves traveling). Other restaurants

have informal mechanisms to ensure that the staff visit restaurants in the

field. In some cases, the chef sometimes takes the staff out to eat, and

invites them (with the restaurant's budget), in other cases chefs simply encourage the staff to go out to restaurants, then not necessarily covering

the cost.

Chefs go out to eat for two purposes: to constantly compare their res

taurant against others and make sure they are keeping up, and to get new

ideas. They check the d?cor, the tableware, the service, the beverage pro

gram. They often order numerous dishes (perhaps eating only a little of

each) to sample as much food as possible. They attend to the presentation of dishes, flavor combinations, and quality of ingredients. They also take

note of the price-quality ratio. All this information helps them assess if

they are keeping up in the market. It also gives them new ideas that they

9 I distinguish unspoken practices and individuals' ways of dealing with differentiation

analytically. As the examples below make clear, they are overlapped.



86 Leschziner

can adapt to their restaurant, ranging from the composition of dishes to

the wine list or the flowers on the table.

The degree to which chefs admit this common practice varies, but the

apprehension with the topic is consistent (at least with field outsiders, as is

an interviewer). As I have suggested above, evidence through verbal and

nonverbal communication exposes the apprehension. Often they deny they ever go out to eat for work purposes, that is, to watch what other chefs in

their field are producing. Among the most common explanations of those

who admit they go out to eat, chefs may say they never check out compet

itors, for they do not go to restaurants of the same style as theirs. They

(understandably) find it boring to eat the same food they work with, and

the bad quality at these restaurants is always disappointing. When chefs

acknowledge they go out to eat to check out other chefs' work (in differ

ent culinary styles and market niches), they underscore that they check the

d?cor, service, beverage program. That is, they disattend to the food. A

common qualifier is that they go out to eat, but never just for work pur

poses. They would only go to a restaurant so long as they have a desire to

eat there. Nonverbal communication, through the tone of voice, a speed

ing up of their speech, change in their facial expression or general attitude

towards their interlocutor shows the discomfort with the topic. Chefs' apprehension with the practice of checking out field members

is partly explained by the intersubjective understanding that getting ideas

from peers is a form of plagiarism.10 However, borrowing ideas from

chefs in other fields is more socially acceptable. Traveling is appreciated for getting new ideas, a practice which thus elicits no apprehension.

Culinary fields of higher status are a particularly good source of inspira tion. In New York and San Francisco, this entails traveling abroad. The

discrepancy in the perception of knowledge-exchange practices in cuisine

may strike us as surprising. After all, in our discipline, borrowing ideas

from other sociologists without acknowledgment is defined as plagiarism

regardless of our colleagues' field membership. Yet, the discrepancy in

cuisine is not surprising insofar as we keep in mind that knowledge

exchange is based on norms instead of laws. So long as the validity of

social norms is group bounded, borrowing ideas from other fields does

not imply breaking a norm (Fauchart and von Hippel, 2006).n Just as

with visiting restaurants in their own field, yet without the discursive

apprehension, chefs travel on their own for the sole purpose of eating, and their restaurants may have established systems, whether structured

10 There are other reasons why chefs disattend to these practices which are visited below.

11 Drawing on research on social norms, Fauchart and von Hippel (2006) note that norm

based knowledge-exchange regimes foster a high level of communalism within the group, which is undermined when laws are introduced.




or informal, to send off their chefs away to eat (at times covering the

costs).

Second to eating out, whether abroad or locally, as sources of ideas are cookbooks. It is only sensible to think that, although not as good as

going to restaurants, cookbooks are a valuable, and more accessible,

resource. They require less time and money in exchange of ideas, and

these can be selected as one pleases. However, chefs do not portray books

this way. Here, we see the extent to which conversational context matters.

Chefs are proud of their cookbooks collections, and they may bring them

up in the interview. Nonetheless, when confronted with the question of

books' utility as sources of ideas or inspiration, they claim to find them of

little use. This seeming discrepancy is a product of framing. Cookbooks are cultural capital, but they are not acceptable work resources.

So long as knowledge exchange is not legally regulated, so that chefs

do not make their conduits of influence explicit, getting ideas from others, whether through books or restaurants, raises a moral issue. This moral

boundary puts in evidence the delicate nature of the mode of cultural pro duction in cuisine, where authorship is so consequential for a successful

career, yet rather elusive. As Fauchart and von Hippel (2006:4) suggest, cuisine looks to outsiders as an information commons, but it is treated as

a set of compartments separated by normative fences by insiders. We need

only look at a field where claims of authorship are robust and knowledge

exchange is legally regulated, as in sociology, to note how the mode of

cultural production affects relations among creators. This moral boundary is represented in the following excerpt from a chef at a high-status restaur

ant in New York.

I don't look much into cookbooks. I like to look at books that are beautiful, and look at the pictures, I think it's a wonderful thing to do. But I do not look at books, at a book, to make my dish. Ever. Never do that. I don't. I can get inspired by certain

things, I look at pictures and so forth but I do not take virtually a recipe. Never do

that (Chef at a high-end restaurant in New York City, field notes).

Chefs resort to an array of reasons to justify their stance on cook

books. Reasons may be moral, ethical, cognitive, or practical. The most

common arguments are the following: pictures are the only inspiring ele

ment; cookbooks are nothing more than publicity for chefs; recipes are

not reliable anyway because they are rarely tested by chefs; somebody else's recipes would never be representative of one's own culinary style;

copying a recipe is not proper; lack of time, attention span, or disposition to read books. Although an unqualified acknowledgment of reading cook

books is rare, the appreciation of pictures, as the quote above illustrates, is unreserved. Further, chefs wish cookbooks were only made of pictures, in which case they claim they would actually use them.



88 Leschziner

Chefs' discourses on the practices of using cookbooks or visiting res

taurants in their field provide evidence for the relation between the mode

of cultural production and relations among creators. The delicate mode of

cultural production makes it so difficult to demonstrate authorship in cuis

ine that chefs' easiest coping mechanism is to insulate themselves (at least

in ideality) from those relations among creators which might be understood as conduits of influence. Chefs' disattention to their knowledge-exchange

practices allows for a proximity that would otherwise be uncomfortable.

Differentiation

Creator-creator relations, as seen in chefs' uncomfortable relationship

with their knowledge-exchange practices, must also be understood in light of the imperative of differentiation. The fuzzy mode of cultural production undermines claims of authorship and attempts of differentiation, thus

bringing about chefs' apprehension. By ignoring or denying that they check out their competitors, chefs obscure their objective distance to them.

By denying that they explore the culinary production in the field by visit

ing restaurants, as well as through cookbooks, they imply they do not

have a pressing need for such information in order to stay in the game. Chefs hereby obscure their objective distance to peers and subjectively increase their status. A law-based knowledge-exchange regime makes the

connection between creators explicit through references, but in cuisine

the mode of cultural production complicates creator-creator relations to

the extent that the most accessible mechanism is to sever ties with creators

who may be considered to be an influence. The severing of such ties

enables creators to interact with one another in social events which are

regular among field members. It makes their social closeness possible. There is a distinction, understood by most chefs (eluded by some,

acknowledged by others), between going out to eat for work (to check out

the field) and for pleasure. As I have suggested above, it is reasonable that, in their limited time off, chefs may not like to eat food similar to theirs given the tedium of working with and tasting the same foods everyday. Neverthe

less, the extent to which they go to discursively distance themselves from

their market niche is indicative of a phenomenon that is beyond the under

standable need for a taste change. Chefs carry out this distancing through verbal and nonverbal means. Some of them admit to going to restaurants of a similar category. Few claim to do it out of pleasure, but if they do, it is

due to their omnivorous behavior?they find pleasure in anything (see Di

Maggio, 1987). For the most part, those chefs who go to restaurants of a

comparative level note they do it for checking out their colleagues' work.




Chefs at the most prestigious restaurants in the country do not like

fancy food and would rather eat simple things; innovative chefs prefer tra

ditional restaurants; chefs of French cuisine would rather eat Italian

foods, etc. They need the change of style, and their tired palates demand

what they consider simple flavors. Dishes with little culinary complexity, with only a few ingredients, and limited flourishes, garnishes, sauces, etc. are the simple flavors chefs are after in their free time. Chefs find simple flavors in comfort food and peasant traditions?Italian food, country French food typically found in bistros or brasseries, simply prepared pro teins such as a grilled steak, or chicken. Associated with their understand

ing of culinary simplicity is the culinary category of clean flavors. Dishes

made with few components, where the ingredients can be easily distin

guished because they are not muddled in a canvas of multiple flavors, are

clean. Clean flavors are also usually relatively lean. Tired by the daily

ingestion of rich and complex dishes, their palates long for simple and

clean flavors. This probably accounts for the absolute preference for sushi.

All chefs love it more than anything else, and eat it regularly.

Simple and clean flavors do not only concern chefs' gastronomic pre ferences. They also concern their mental disposition. Simple food liberates

them from their internal disposition, or the external demands (of those

with whom they are interacting), to be analytic about food. There is not

much to analyze in a dish of roast chicken and mashed potatoes. Going to low-key restaurants where they find simple food also liberates them

from the pressures of celebrity chefdom. In their free time, most celebrity chefs do not want to go to places where they are recognized and given

special treatment because they feel they must perform their roles of celeb

rity chefs and thus cannot comfortably enjoy the experience. Neither do

they want to be sent several dishes from the kitchen, complimentary of

the chef?what usually happens when they are recognized and treated as

celebrity chefs. These are also the reasons why chefs put ethnic cuisines

together with simple fare at the top of their list of eating preferences. Eth

nic cuisines are a change for their palates, and low-key ethnic restaurants

release them from their celebrity status. Ethnic cuisines also liberate them

from analyzing the food because the socio-cognitive foundation of these

cuisines is beyond their culinary competence. There is also the overarching

complaint, suggested above, about not eating food of the same style as

theirs because of the disappointment that invariably follows the general bad quality.12

12 Chefs' attitudes about mentioning names vary, from a refusal to name colleagues to a com

plete comfort in talking about them. In few instances, chefs' preference for not saying names is evidently political. In such case, choosing different kinds of food, ethnic or down

scale in particular, saves them from the trouble of establishing preferences, allegiances, etc.



90 Leschziner

As I have mentioned, there is variation in chefs' acknowledgment that

they eat out for work, ranging from complete denial to complete appreci ation. Most chefs who deny it claim they have no need to check either

their competitors or other culinary trends. A few chefs would rather not

eat out to avoid having their culinary creations be inadvertently influenced

by others. Chefs who maintain they sometimes check out other restaurants

make a point of going to those recently opened. They need to know the new players in the field. Due to the fragility of their relations with other

creators, these chefs may qualify the extent to which they check out their

peers: they highlight their attention to all the nonfood aspects of the res

taurants (room, service, beverage program, etc.), they do not go out to eat

as often as they used to, they do it to take their staff out, they would not

go to restaurants only for work, etc. A few chefs wholeheartedly argue for

the importance of eating out to make sure they are keeping up, or more

rarely, to get inspiration. Rather than what chefs do acknowledge, the restaurants they visit,

what they do for work or for pleasure, what they leave out or play down

is their most effective rhetorical mechanism of differentiation: the restau

rants they fail to mention, the foods they do not enjoy, the lack of need

to check out places. Also effective is the pattern of qualifying statements

which I have noted so that if they go to comparative restaurants, it is

because they have to, and if they eat out to check out the field, it never is

just work. We see here again how the mode of cultural production medi

ates relations among creators. Attempts at differentiation are so necessary

but difficult in the culinary field that the most accessible mechanism for

chefs is to resort to disattention to their practices. Through it they blur

their objective distance to others, and they also enable a proximity to their

competitors which would otherwise be intolerable.

The last, and perhaps most clear, mechanism for differentiation I

identify is chefs' subjective construction of their professional lineage. Chefs establish their professional lineage through selecting who they admire and who they would have liked to work for.13 Most significantly,

through omitting creators to whom they may be potentially connected,

they sever their conduits of influence, and thus protect their authenticity. In the field-driven cognitive disposition to obscure possible conduits of

influence, we most clearly see the inverse relation between emulation and

recognition that pervades the field. In turn, we most clearly see how rela

tions between creators are mediated by the mode of cultural production. This cognitive pattern will become clear as I describe it below.

13 I have specifically asked chefs to tell me who they admire, and who they would have liked

to work with, if they were to start their career over again.




First, we must distinguish the categories of admired chefs and chefs

interviewees would have wanted to work for. As distinct as the categor ies are, so are interviewees' responses. For reasons that will be elabor

ated upon below, this is more so the case in New York than in San

Francisco. This part of the analysis will be centered on the New York

culinary field. It is reasonable to assume that social actors may admire more people than they may wish they had worked for. Arguably, admir

ation is a more wide-ranging category. Fewer qualities are required of a

person to admire them than to wish we had worked for them. For

instance, we may think of a long list of sociologists we admire, whether

for their theoretical thoroughness, their methodological solidity, their

analytical skills, their writing style, their productivity, their personality, etc. Nonetheless, we value some of these attributes more than others,

and those are the skills we would require of somebody for us to learn

from them. Our list of sociologists we would have liked to work for

would be shorter.

Indeed, we may not only admire people for a variety of reasons, but

also for qualities we do not necessarily value highly. In fact, chefs may and do admire others for attributes they do not value or even endorse.

For instance, there is not much respect for chefs turned into businesspeo

ple. Opening several restaurants necessarily results in these chefs' inability to spend much time in any of the restaurants' kitchens. They delegate and

manage. As they neglect their chefs' role, defined by the job of cooking (however far from chefs' job descriptions this may be), they are perceived to be "only after the money." Because it refers to the identity of chefs,

neglecting the chefs role is a moral issue. Evidence of the moral import of

this boundary is chefs' presentation of selves. They distance themselves

from the identity of chef-turned-into-businessperson, underscoring their

being working chefs, in contrast to their peers who are rarely behind the stoves. This notwithstanding, chefs turned into businesspeople are

admired, and precisely for this quality. This finding should not surprise us

if we keep in mind that social actors use different cognitive schema in dif

ferent contexts (DiMaggio, 2002:277). Because admiration encompasses a more wide-ranging spectrum, I

take chefs' selection of who they would have wanted to work with as the

stronger indicator of a conduit of influence, as these are the professionals chefs would want to emulate.14 This category represents individuals' sub

jective construction of their professional lineage and thus of their sense of

place, as I will show below.

14 For the sake of simplicity of language, I will refer to the category of chefs interviewees

would have wanted to work with as chefs to emulate.



92 Leschziner

There are three dimensions in the difference between the selection of

admired chefs and chefs to emulate in the New York culinary field. First, chefs are twice as likely to be admired as they are to be identified as peo

ple to emulate. The mean number of admired chefs per person is four, and that of chefs to emulate is two.15 There is a high variance in the selec

tion of these chefs, from interviewees who cite countless names, to others

who are hard pressed to come up with a single person. Second, there is a marked contrast in the distribution of the selection

of admired chefs and chefs to emulate. Admired chefs are highly concen

trated, with the most admired person selected by 12 individuals, and the

second selected by seven (of a total of about 30 New York chefs who

answered this question). On the contrary, the selection of chefs to emulate

is evenly distributed, with three names sharing the top of the list, each

chosen by four interviewees.

Third, a significant distinction appears in who interviewees select.

Whereas most of the admired chefs are New Yorkers, it is very likely for creators to select Europeans, French in particular, as chefs to emulate. As

the birthplace of modern western cuisine (see Ferguson, 1998, 2004;

Ferguson and Zukin, 1998), France is traditionally the highest status

culinary field. The selection of France or Europe is regardless of whether

interviewees have work experience in those places or not. The four most

admired chefs are New Yorkers, the first two are top chefs (with restau

rants with the highest prestige in the city and the country), the third is the most innovative chef in the city, and the fourth is a highly successful chef

entrepreneur (who owns several acclaimed restaurants in New York,

among other related businesses). The latter two chefs were chosen by five

interviewees each. In contrast to admired chefs, the three most popular chefs to emulate are a top chef in France, a top French chef with restau

rants in France and one in New York, and the above New York chef

entrepreneur. The next two chefs on the list are French, each selected by three people. As we note, no New York top chef is among the five most

frequently selected chefs to emulate.

The choices of chefs to emulate, to recapitulate, are an effective means of subjectively positioning themselves in relation to others, in terms

of both culinary style and status. Consider a sociologist from a small

third-tier university whose dream was to work with a colleague at another

small third-tier university, another sociologist whose wish was to work

with the most prestigious sociologist at a top department, and finally con

sider a sociologist who would have only wanted to work with J?rgen 15

Interviewees have selected a total number of 116 admired chefs (this is not to say 116 dif

ferent names). The total number of chefs interviewees would have wanted to work with is 66.




Habermas. Consider an aggregate of such choices to have a picture of pat terns of individuals' self-presentations and sense of place in the field.

Just as we should look at which sociologists these individuals choose,

following the approach I have proposed, we ought to look at their omis

sions as meaningful data as well. How would we analyze a group of sociol

ogists who said they could have only learned from Habermas, or perhaps

only from Weber? In the same way, how do we interpret chefs' tendency to

identify French chefs as the most desirable peers to emulate? About half of

chefs to emulate are French, and about a quarter of admired chefs are

French. The tendency to omit local creators is a means for chefs to sever

links with their peers, obscure their conduits of influence and thus their

objective position in the field. Here we see, again, how the mode of cultural

production informs the mechanisms for chefs to manage their authenticity and claims of authorship. By maintaining that they have nothing to learn

from peers in their subfield, or from colleagues in the field at large, or even

from colleagues in the national context, and they could only learn from

top chefs in France?the highest status field?individuals differentiate

themselves from their peers and establish their authorship. We would expect geographically and symbolically close chefs to be

influential given their visibility and availability (Rao et al, 2003, 2005). Yet, the most apparent pattern in chefs' field positioning is the low number

of chefs in their field, and even more, in their subfield?those to whom they must be most closely orienting their actions?they would have wanted to

work with. Even young professionals, with plenty of chefs in the vast New

York culinary world to look up to, are more likely to think of chefs they would have wanted to learn from who are far away. An ocean apart

appears as, no doubt, an added value in the subjective differentiation. Of

the total number of admired chefs (63), 72% are in New York City, and

the majority of the 28% admired creators in other culinary fields are in

Europe. Of the total number of chefs to emulate (116), only 44% are in

New York City, and most of the 56% in other fields are in Europe.16 The patterns in chefs' selection of admired chefs and chefs to emulate

in New York City I have here outlined do not apply in San Francisco.

The main difference between the two culinary fields is that in San Fran

cisco there is no variation between the patterns in the selection of admired

chefs and chefs to emulate. First, there is about the same number of chefs

16 The figures for New York City would be lower if we only included chefs who are currently field members. Some of the chefs selected are either dead, or they are chefs of traditional

Asian restaurants. Arguably chefs of traditional ethnic foods are non-field members (i.e.,

noncompetitors). In this way, if we eliminate nonfield members, the percentage for

admired chefs in New York goes down to 68%, and that of chefs to emulate goes to 40%.

As for the chefs selected in other fields, in both categories of admired creators and crea

tors to emulate, the percentage of chefs in Europe is about 90%.



94 Leschziner

selected in both categories?20 and 22, respectively?with a mean number

of about three chefs selected per person.17 Second, the distribution of the

selection of admired chefs and chefs to emulate is about the same; both

cases evenly are distributed.18 Third, there is the same likelihood for field

members and for chefs in other fields to be selected as admired chefs as to

be selected as chefs to emulate. About 35% of chefs selected in both cat

egories are in San Francisco, and about 65% are in other culinary fields.

Recall that in New York field members have a high probability to be

admired by their peers, but a much lower one to be viewed as creators to

emulate. In addition to there being the same likelihood for field members

to be selected for the category of admiration as for the category of emula

tion in San Francisco, the number of chefs selected is evenly distributed

among San Francisco, Europe, and New York City. Chefs in each loca

tion have a likelihood of around 30% to be selected (the remaining pro

portion of chefs selected is from other cities in the United States).

Why is there so much variance in the selection patterns between New

York City and San Francisco when the nature of the work is similar?

Chefs' jobs are more or less the same in both cities, and so are their work

ing conditions. Nonetheless, there are some differences in the mode of cul

tural production. First, San Francisco is a much smaller field than New

York City. Second, it is not as prestigious as New York, which is the

culinary field with the highest prestige in the United States, and one of the

highest in the world. San Francisco is generally considered second to New

York in the country, although this rank does not apply on a worldwide

scale.19 The size and the prestige of the New York culinary field entail a

much higher level of competition, in turn increased by the volatility of the

market. The steep rent and costs of running a restaurant in this city put restaurants at a high risk of failing within their first year.20 These condi

tions increase the institutional imperative of differentiation. In order to

survive, chefs must distinguish themselves from others to stand out and

gain recognition in the field. A requisite for this to happen is authenti

city?conforming to a recognizable style while also being original. By

(first) rhetorically differentiating themselves from competitors, (second)

17 The figures are significantly lower in San Francisco mostly because the sample of chefs in

this city is significantly lower. But also, the culinary field is much smaller. As we will see,

this also affects the patterns in the selection of local chefs. 18

This may also be partly explained by the small sample size in San Francisco. 19

It is precisely the higher status of New York, relative to San Francisco, that explains the

high likelihood of New York chefs to be selected by creators in San Francisco. We should

expect chefs to select creators in another field in the country so long as the field has a

higher status than their own. 20

The estimate is that one in every two restaurants fails within its first year, and about 65%

fail within the first two years in New York City.




subjectively blurring their objective distance from them, and (third) distan

cing themselves from colleagues who may be understood as conduits of

influence, chefs strive to establish their authorship and carve out their sense of place in the field. We see here the extent to which the mode of

cultural production mediates relations among creators.

The selection patterns for admired chefs and chefs to emulate in San

Francisco, in contrast to New York, are explained by a lower disposition among individuals to differentiate themselves from others. The smaller, less volatile, and less competitive field makes for a lower demand of differ entiation. It is thus that chefs are as able to name field members as crea

tors they would want to emulate as they are about naming field members

they admire.21

But the lower demand of differentiation in San Francisco is also

partly explained by an attribute of the field of another nature: the means

of cultural production. The geographic location of the culinary field in

San Francisco entails a greater access to local ingredients of good quality all year long. Quality of ingredients generates a de-emphasis of technique, because the understanding is that flavorful ingredients ought not to be

tampered with.22 Technique and the culinary styles derived from technique

easily travel through social conduits. Technique and culinary styles are

passed on from one creator to another, and they are more easily identifi able as linkages between creators than, for instance, use of local ingredi ents. As a consequence, we should expect the de-emphasis of technique to

lessen the likelihood for chefs to sever ties with those creators who may be viewed as influences. The de-emphasis of technique thus contributes in

decreasing the institutional imperative of differentiation (for it reduces the

pressure for chefs to demonstrate that their techniques or styles are unlike

those of their peers), easing the conditions for claims of authorship. So

long as there is a lesser need for chefs to sever ties with their peers, and to

distinguish themselves from their peers in order to establish their author

21 It ought to be noted that, while chefs in San Francisco have the same likelihood to select field members as chefs to emulate as to select them as admired chefs, showing a perception of lower need of differentiation than in New York, they have in general a lower likelihood to select field members than non-field members than New Yorkers. This difference is

explained by the size of the fields. The universe of high-status chefs to select from is much smaller in San Francisco. The difference between the two fields is particularly marked for the category of admired chefs, precisely because there is a large number of chefs to choose from in New York, and this category does not operate as a strong mechanism of differen

tiation. 22

We find the association between access to good-quality ingredients and de-emphasis of

technique in cuisines around the world. This association is the classic explanation for the

difference between, for instance, French and Italian cuisines. Italy's greater access to

good-quality ingredients is at the source of its culinary simplicity. In contrast, limited access to fresh ingredients has made French cuisine highly reliant on technique. In turn, it

has made French cuisine the foundation of modern culinary technique.



96 Leschziner

ship and subjectively manage their position in the field, we will find more

concordial relations among chefs in the field.

A SENSE OF PLACE: AUTHORSHIP AT THE INTERSECTION OF THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE INSTITUTION

Drawing on ethnographic research on creational patterns in the culin

ary field, the analysis in this paper focuses on the intersection of the insti

tutional configuration and individuals' subjective ways of managing their

position in it. I have maintained that, far from conceiving them as individ

ual psychological traits, or simply part of culture, socio-cognitive patterns

ought to be traced to the particular attributes of a field. I have thus linked

a socio-cognitive approach (see Geertz, 1973, 1983; Rosch, 1978; Sahlins,

1976, 1981; Zerubavel, 1997, 2002) with the neo-institutionalism's tenet

that individuals' cognitive categories are to be tracked down to organiza tional configurations because such configurations provide not only rules

for action but also sets of symbolic meanings whereby individuals categor ize their work and themselves as members of the organization (see DiMag

gio and Powell, 1983; Eliasoph and Lichterman, 2003; Friedland and

Alford, 1991; Jepperson, 1991; Mohr, 1994; Mohr and Duquenne, 1997; Rao et al, 2003, 2005; Vaughan, 1986, 1996, 2002; Zucker, 1977, 1987). I

have examined chefs' practices and discourses as they manage their posi tions in the organization in light of institutional demands for investigating how their claims of authorship and sense of place in the culinary field are

affected, in particular, by the mode of cultural production. I have argued that the for-profit nature of production and lay audience of cuisine, the

individualization of authorship, with the consequent high stakes on repu

tation, as well as the ambiguous character of the mode of cultural produc tion increase the salience of authorship and differentiation and thus

critically affect chefs' claims about their knowledge-exchange practices and about their professional ties with peers.

I have accounted for chefs' apprehension about their knowledge

exchange practices by embedding their socio-cognitive dispositions for

differentiation in the institutional demands for differentiation. This

interconnection helps explain the different patterns between New York

and San Francisco, and in particular the lower disposition for differenti

ation of chefs in San Francisco. In the inverse relation between emulation

and recognition which surfaces from chefs' practices and discourses, we

note their subjectively experienced need of differentiation.

The nature of the mode of cultural production, and in particular the higher level of competition in New York, leads chefs to be closely




attentive to what their peers produce. They are not only up-to-date with

what their peers produce, and with the latest trends in cuisine, but further, as evidenced in interviews and ethnographic observation, their attitudes demonstrate that this is information they know they must have. How they talk about new techniques, for instance, or about the recently opened res

taurants which they feel they must visit, shows their perception of the

importance of being informed about the latest developments in their field.

They must know what their competitors are doing in order to keep the

fine balance between conformity and originality and survive in the market.

The balance between conformity and originality entails, of course, that

chefs are closely orienting their culinary production to what other field

members are producing. The lower institutional imperative of differenti

ation in San Francisco results in a lower demand for chefs to be up-to date with the developments in their field. Chefs in this city are less inves

ted in knowing what their peers are producing, as well as in knowing about the latest culinary fads and fashions. This is clear from the way

they talk about other creators in their field, or about latest trends. Because

these chefs can afford to be less attentive to what their peers are produ

cing, as it were, the extent to which they orient their culinary production to what their peers are doing is lower than in New York.

The higher tendency to orient their actions to other field members in

New York results, of course, in stronger patterns of emulation. Given the

nature of the mode of cultural production, such emulation patterns are

inversely associated with recognition. That is, the higher likelihood to

emulate others is accompanied by the severance of professional ties with

peers, as is evidenced in New York chefs' rhetorical mechanisms of distan

cing themselves from field members. On the contrary, the lower pressure to conform to what other creators are doing in the San Francisco field

results in a higher pattern of recognition. The difference between the two

fields shows the extent to which the mode of cultural production affects

the relations creators establish with one another.

When chefs sever links to past or contemporary colleagues who may be understood as conduits of influence, they differentiate themselves from

them, position themselves along the axes of culinary style and status, and

by doing so establish their authorship. The focus in this article has been on the effect of institutional conditions on chefs' socio-cognitive patterns of managing their authorship and position in the field. Nonetheless, as

they make claims of authorship and establish themselves in the field

through the mechanisms here described, chefs at the same time reinforce

the institutional imperatives of differentiation. In other words, the mode

of cultural production and social relations in the field are in a dialectical

relation.



98 Leschziner

Thus, we can interpret the higher likelihood of San Francisco

chefs, than of New York chefs, to make reference to their in-field col

leagues as conduits of influence as (1) evidence of a lower institutional

demand for differentiation, rather than simply evidence of the Califor

nian culture, which allegedly leads individuals to be more laid-back and

mellow than people in the New York cut-throat culture and (2) expres sive and creational patterns that are actively maintained by the group,

affecting the creational and social dynamics of the institutional configur ation. This is to say, the difference between the patterns in the two

fields is not to be accounted for by culture, conceived of as a set of

widely shared personal dispositions, but by the institutional culture,

understanding this culture as a set of relations. Such set of relations at

the same time provides the foundation to the institutional culture and

is structured by it.

Established through chefs' discourses about their knowledge

exchange practices, and about their colleagues at large, relations among creators are consistent with shared beliefs and values about authorship, differentiation, and acceptable knowledge-exchange practices. Drawing upon the institutional culture as it is experienced in chefs' professional

daily lives, relations among creators are also consistent with moral

boundaries and expressive forms that are shared and maintained by the

group, helping individuals maintain a positive sense of selves as members

of the institution, and in turn, contribute to the social dynamics of the

institution.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I wish to thank Karen Cerulo, Jennifer Lena, John Levi Martin, Paul

Lichterman, and the Editors of Sociological Forum for their comments on

earlier versions of this article.

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