Maybe you’ve heard of the French expression cherchez la femme. It translates as “look for the woman”, and chauvinistically implies that women are to blame for all the vexing issues that beset men. I thought of the phrase recently when contemplating The World’s 50 Best Restaurants. The annual spectacle, unfolding in Melbourne in April, purports to shine a light on global talent but has long been criticised for its gender imbalance. Notoriously absent from its list of illustrious restaurants are those with female chefs. You can’t look for the woman because she’s almost invisible.

Boldfaced chefs, lauded restaurateurs and assorted gastronomes will soon descend on Melbourne for a week of binging, boozing and testosterone-fuelled backslapping. Staging the event in Australia as opposed to London (its traditional base), or New York (where it unfurled last year), is an apparent attempt to render it more international in scope. But, when it comes to being truly representative, the list leaves a bitter taste in the mouth of many observers. The 2016 tally featured just two female chefs in the top 50. Chances are that the 2017 line-up will be equally lopsided.

Pia Leon, who cooks alongside her husband, Virgilio Martinez, at Peru’s Central, is currently ranked number 4, while Elena Arzak Espina of Spanish restaurant Arzak, who shares duties with her father, Juan Mari Arzak, is at number 21. More women come into play on the Asian- and Latin-focused lists. In the former, there is Lanshu Chen of Le Mout in Taiwan at number 30, but she is the sole statistic. Women seem to fare better on the Latin regional list, with eight female chefs highlighted. Among them is co-chef Helena Rizzo at Brazilian restaurant Mani (no. 8), Kamilla Seidler at Gustu in Bolivia at (no. 14), and Leonor Espinosa at Leo in Colombia (no. 16).

If we were to generate a fitting hashtag it would be #worlds50somale. The award’s organisers point to the inequality of the industry, arguing that women are not present enough at top-tier restaurants on their radar. Yet that sounds like classic mansplaining, since there are talented female chefs everywhere in the world. It may have more to do with the fact that the ratio of male to female voters skews overwhelmingly male. Since 2011, the World’s 50 arbiters hand out a separate gong for Best Female Chef—the latest recipient being Slovenian toque Ana Ros at Hisa Franko—but this accolade seems patronising, marginalising and tokenistic. It also makes little sense. Ros was profiled on season two of the Netflix series Chef’s Table and is clearly a major force. So why is her restaurant not in their rankings?

The awards have also been criticised for their lack of geographic diversity, obsession with tasting menus, and arbitrary voting process—judges are not required to verify they have eaten in the restaurants they cast ballots for. If only some of the members of this epicurean society would dine at restaurants helmed by women. In Melbourne, they would be well advised to seek out Thi Le at newcomer Anchovy, Shannon Martinez at Smith & Daughters, Vanessa Mateus at Pope Joan, and Archan Chan at Ricky & Pinky. Emma D’Alessandro at Donovan’s in St Kilda is another exceptional chef. In Sydney, Kylie Kwong at Billy Kwong, Danielle Alvarez at Fred’s and Analiese Gregory at Bar Brose deserve their attention, too. The (female) list goes on.

Acknowledging more female star chefs, like loosening up their Eurocentric approach, would help the awards shake off their elitist reputation. It would also undoubtedly help create more role models for young women. Men might still dominate restaurant kitchens, but women chefs have proven to offer a completely different sensibility that only improves the end result. Celebrated chef Dominique Crenn, of Atelier Crenn in San Francisco, once drew a parallel with ingredients. “Just as different ingredients bring out various flavours in other accompanying ingredients, men and women chefs bring out better elements in one another,” she said. “We need one another.”