THE PROPER CHEF’S OATH

I hereby swear that I shalt not send you a 200g scotch fillet when the menu promised a 300g rib eye; or put Nile perch in that curry when I warranted it would be locally caught blue eye; and that I will aspire to make as much of what I serve you myself (unless I can happily admit that I can buy-in better). I shall restrain myself from branding apprentices, nudging them when they are getting stuff out of the oven so they burn their arms, or setting fire to them in any way, even if it happened to me back in the day. I shall not shout at the floor staff even if I am having a very, very bad day. We do this, for the glory of food, for the honour of our restaurant and to make the world a better place through food.

THE DODGY CHEF’S OATH

I hereby warrant and represent that I shall throw out any ingredients that are past their best and not try to fob them off as a special. I shall understand that the golden, crunchy chip is the benchmark of my trade and nothing less shall cross my pass.  

I promise to wash my hands and not to sneak off for a ciggie break half-way through service, claiming I’m off to the cool room.

THE DELIVERY DRIVER’S OATH

I promise not to steal any of your chips and to always drive directly to your house – and not do multiple drops in your suburb or linger over Instagram before getting to you – to ensure your food arrives hot.

THE PIZZA-MAKER’S OATH

I promise not to add pineapple, pine nuts, anchovies or coriander to any pizza without clearly announcing it on the menu. 

THE FLOORSTAFF’S OATH

I will treat the customers with the respect with which I wish to be treated – even the smug, know-it-all ones. I will not correct a customer’s pronunciation of a wine even if they call it a cardonnay or a peanut nor, because I know what they mean and I am not employed as a French teacher. I shall not clear plates before all have finished eating as I am not wearing a bright-coloured fast-food uniform. I shall not disappear at the end of service when customers will probably want their bill.

THE RESTAURANT CUSTOMER’S OATH

I will treat the floor staff with the respect with which I wish to be treated – even the smug, know-it-all ones who insist on telling me how to pronounce charder-neigh and pea-no-wah. I shall cancel my dinner reservation in good time if I’m not going to make it. I shall only say I have an allergy if I actually have an allergy. I shall not be boorish and loud unless there is a whole restaurant of people being boorish and loud – in which case I swear fealty to the principle of bellowing “how much fun is this” regularly at no-one in particular. Furthermore, I warrant and represent that manners cost nothing.

THE RESTAURANT CRITIC’S OATH

I acknowledge that the review is written with the benefit of the customer in mind, but that I owe it equally to the restaurant or cafe to report on my experience with honesty and fairness. I shall always pay for my meal. If a meal is surprisingly good or surprisingly bad, I will revisit because ensuring you give the reader a fair snapshot of the experience they may have is what matters most. I understand that cafes and restaurants can have freakishly bad, or good, nights. I will never indulge in the bloodsport of going to a restaurant that I know is really bad in order to deliver that demanding editor that damning review – even if it would be very funny.

THE FOODIE’S OATH

As a foodie, I uphold and support the principles of zero waste, sustainability and ethical farming practices, regardless of the cuisine. I will relish new experiences, and vow to try and understand that sometimes new experiences take some getting used to. I will vow to learn more about traditional Australian indigenous ingredients other than barramundi, lemon myrtle and wattleseed as a way of respecting the land on which I live. Furthermore, I do hereby vow only to post pictures of my dinner when it’s really, really good, and not ever to play a game of one-upmanship when discussing restaurants or food experiences that I’ve had. Never again will I say, “Yes, five-spice-rubbed pork belly is delicious but until you’ve eaten it at that little worker’s cafe in Hunan you haven’t really lived” or,  “Of course, you haven’t really dined until you’ve eaten horse with Mongolian herdsmen in their yurt.” I also vow to support small artisan producers and owner-operated cafes and restaurants rather than big chains as I understand that these guys are the lifeblood of Australia’s burgeoning culinary reputation overseas.  I do all this in respect of the Fundamental Principles of Foodism.