A Glimpse into the New World of Superyacht galleys
By
PRIVATE CHEF WITH 36 YEARS OF EXPERIENCE.
COOKING BECOMES ART WHEN IT MOVES EMOTIONS
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The old yacht chefs are disappearing.
Quietly.
Almost as discreet as their dishes – because flavour never needed a filter.
They were the last generation for whom mise en place wasn’t a mood, but a mindset.
They could calculate, lead, improvise – even while a storm raged outside.
They delivered.
Not follower counts, but quality.
And they did it without a camera rolling.
Today, superyacht galleys are less about cooking and more about content creation.
The hang-loose generation is taking over – smiling wide, because smiling is the new résumé.
Always smiling. Like it’s the group photo at a kids birthday party.
Career progression?
From pub cook in Sydney to 80-metre Monaco dreamboat.
Thrown out by mum in South Africa, hired the next week to feed the high society on a 50-metre floating palace.
Traveller and Burger flipper from the last backwater town in the US to the luxury scene and onto the throne of global private chefs.
Instagrammers are at the helm now – and the wise kitchen Yodas are just whispering:
Hasta la vista, baby.
With 12,000 followers in the galley, the babyface generation is here to explain how revolutionary sourdough is –
a skill every first-year apprentice mastered back when we still used actual recipe books.
The new chef is young, global, loud, and highly visible.
He doesn’t cook – he “drops” menus.
He doesn’t serve food – he “launches concepts.”
He’s stylish, agile, and always available – mostly on Instagram.
His main ingredient?
Good vibes.
Because the more you smile, the more the world smiles back.
The superyacht galleys today is less workplace, more stage.
If you stand out, you win.
If you lead, you’re a problem.
And so the old masters quietly bow out.
Not because they’re tired.
But because there’s no place left in a system where presence beats competence.
What remains is an industry in selfie mode.
We cook what looks good in a reel.
Respect is a like.
Hierarchy, an algorithm.
And the next head chef?
Might come straight from the gym – or from your explore page.
Meanwhile, the veterans open their bars at the edge of the universe.
Quiet, focused, sharp.
No sponsors, no stories.
Just knives that still cut, and hands that know what they’re doing.
And those lucky enough to sit at their counter can feel it:
This is a chef who’s lived it – not someone rehearsing their next vertical video
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