A chef’s role extends beyond the eating experience to being the onboard nutritionist and morale booster.
A crew member once told me I wasn’t just a chef, I was also the chief morale officer. It was a light-bulb moment. Food isn’t just fuel on board — it’s therapy, celebration, distraction and sometimes the only thing keeping a crew member going. Being in charge of it is a big responsibility. On a trip, when the days never end and the work feels relentless, meals can become the emotional support crutch for crew. So you’re not just the chef — you’re suddenly responsible for everyone’s happiness, too.
Until I heard this, I hadn’t thought much about what “the eating experience” was like for everyone on board. The reality? They have little control over what’s on offer, or when they get to eat it. The chef is the culinary dictator, and the schedule is stuck to religiously. A chief officer once called this lack of choice “infantilizing” — he longed for his days at home when he could be the captain of his own kitchen.
So what’s the solution? Let them in. Invite crew to the galley to make a dish or do a pizza night where everyone gets creative with toppings. Let them use the galley on weekends. And if they don’t clean up quite to your standards, who cares? You’re the chief morale officer, and happiness is your priority!
Chef/environmental officer
With great power (read: the boat credit card) comes great responsibility. The quote “Every time you spend money you’re casting a vote for the kind of world you want,” is especially true when it comes to food. The more we buy of something, the more it becomes available — simple supply and demand.
Think about everything chefs regularly purchase. Do we choose organic? Pasture-raised? Local? Do we opt for eco-friendly cleaning products? Every time we do a big provision, we’re casting votes to the suppliers, saying, “We want more of this.” I understand that boats have budgets, and the “best” produce can be the most expensive. But often the difference is marginal, and the budget can absorb the extra cost. Support whatever causes matter to you. If you care about something — pesticides, animal welfare, plastic packaging — cast your vote with the dollar you’ve been entrusted with. You’re not just feeding people; you’re feeding a movement.
Chef/nutritionist
The other hat a chef wears is that of onboard nutritionist. I’m not going to suggest serving egg-white omelets and forcing everyone into a juice cleanse, but the majority of crew are super grateful to have at least some healthy food on the table. I don’t expect every chef to make a variety of LA-style detox salads every day (though if that is your jam, go you!). Crew are often treated like teenagers when it comes to their diet. Fried food is fun, yes — but they deserve more than a rotation of beige, crispy rectangles.
I know an engineer (OK, I’m married to him) who, on every boat he joined, would tell the chef he was a vegetarian who occasionally ate fish and seafood. He actually loves eating meat! He found that if the chef thought he was predominantly vegetarian, more effort was made in the vegetable department. He’d get za’atar-roasted aubergines and quinoa salads instead of limp lettuce and steamed carrots.
I’m not suggesting everyone should lie to their chef about their dietary preferences, but instead we should all celebrate grains, pulses and vegetables just as much as we do animal proteins and starchy carbohydrates. The old guard, who worship a fry-up and the deep fryer, are slowly but surely being replaced by the avocado toast brigade. I say let’s embrace that shift and give them what’s good for them.