Surely Not All of These Chefs Are Tops

I don't know if I ever fully appreciated the world of professional, competitive cookery until I understood myself as trans and as queer. As a lesbian. As maybe a bit of a bottom.

The world of Top Chef truly opens itself to possibility when any number of gorgeous dykes rolls out their perfectly coiled canvas wrap, tightly rolled and stored and ready. The wrap unfurls and reveals the precise tools of their trade, knives with a keen and sharp edge, capturing and refracting the light of the arena and glistening in the heat of the moment. Knives pulled from their sheaths, the honed steeled edge wiped clean and careful and perfect, ready to make precise cuts with such a delicate and forceful caref…I’m sorry, I need to lie down.

Top Chef feels like a world created by a heavenly task force for the sole purpose of giving lesbians a platform to place their prowess. Butcher blocks stained deep with the results of their finely tuned labors. Sleeves rolled just so, perfect tattoos winding together in unison to tell a story of the ages. Here, there are lesbians, proud and mighty with a keen understanding of flavor and seasoning. Rising above the fog of war to emerge victorious!

The name Top Chef belies the secret that we are all too scared, too cautious and faint of heart to even ask. Do we dare ourselves to be so bold as to even posit the question? What will the fallout be of the revelation?

You can't expect me to believe that all of these chefs are tops.

What does this tell us of our top expectations? That all tops are born this way? Stern and dedicated and serious, taking charge when needed, and commanding every movement that bends to their will. Hand tattoos and a tight haircut and an aura that says nothing but "yes chef", "hands", and the steady reliance of a serious silence.

Are bottoms not equally stout of heart and mind? Do bottoms not know exactly what is needed and where and just how to manipulate the situation to their advantage? Are bottoms not capable of being Tops when the situation demands it? Are bottoms not themselves sturdy and in charge and all "yes chef" when the time is right or even when it's not?

Isn't it just classic bottom behavior to have written all of this?

Yes, to the all people writing comments in their heads, I know that the title Top Chef actually refers to the fact that they are winning, and thus they’re the top and calling it Bottom Chef would be maybe too gay for right after dinner on the Food Network. But honestly fuck that, the Food Network has been too straight for too long, and goddamn it I think bottoms deserve their moment right after dinner and before you walk the dog.

Some of these Top Chefs are bottoms for sure. You cannot look through the cast of incredible dyke haircuts and fantastic tattoos and tell me that not one of these beautiful individuals isn't a bottom because they have to present as top in the kitchen, or worse, on TV, where they’re trying to be the toppiest top of all the tops all goddamn day and they are SO tired of it all.

I am here loudly and proudly demanding better bottom representation in competitive cooking. The tops have gotten enough press in this scene, and it is time for the bottoms to show themselves and their skills and their knives to the world and prove that our sleeves roll up just as tight and perfect as anyone's. We can use our perfectly cleaned and sharp and ready tools to make precise cuts and careful incisions. We can spatchcock, dice, and mince like the goddamn best of you.

A good bottom knows how to wield a tool expertly after all.

Tell me you wouldn't buy a DVR and then set your DVR to capture every episode of Bottom Chef. Have a Best Bottom betting pool with your friends and argue about the merits of what makes a top a good bottom and maybe how confusing that is to say.

I think we are already there, that not all of these chefs are tops, and that more than one holds back a little laugh to themselves every time the nice host says the title of the show — but only just at the first word, and then they compose themselves again at Chef and put their best Top face on, preparing to pretend for just a little while, just enough to get through it. And then they can go home. And then they can let it all go. And it will be time to stop playing the part, and "yes, chef" and "hands" can mean something different.

Niko Stratis is a freelance writer whose work has appeared in outlets like SPIN, Bitch, Xtra, Catapult and more. Her work primarily focuses on culture, the 1990s, queer/trans topics and as often as possible where all those ideas intersect. 

She wrote that piece about Jackass that you liked and also the Gin Blossoms one. 

She is also the creator and host of V/A Club, a podcast about movie soundtracks.

Niko lives in downtown Toronto with her fiancé and their dog and 2 cats. She is a cancer.

Niko has written 65 articles for us.