In the hushed hum of high-end hotel kitchens across Asia, among the gleaming pans and flashing orders, there exists a conspicuous silence: the near absence of women in the highest ranks of culinary leadership. Despite the fact that many Asian households revere women as shokunin (職人) in domestic cooking, the corridors of top hotels and fine-dining restaurants remain stubbornly male-dominated. The recent article from Times Now News touches on this “gender gap” phenomenon in hotel kitchens — a truth that goes deeper than simple recruitment numbers.
Women in hotel and resort kitchens often face subtle (and not so subtle) barriers: assumptions that they’ll step out of the industry for family commitments, that they won’t handle the “heat and heavy lifting” of a banquet kitchen, or that they’ll lack the leadership stamina to direct a brigade. A few years after entering the industry, they find the “glass ceiling” (ガラスの天井, garasu no tenjō) firmly in place. Meanwhile, institutions still seldom ask: why aren’t more women making it to Executive Chef or Sous Chef roles?
In Asia the cultural context amplifies these industry-issues. In Japan, for example, female sushi chefs strive for recognition even though discrimination looms: traditional beliefs (古い考え方, furui kangaekata) about women and cooking persist, and “the counter” is still seen as the province of men. In South Asia, chef-entrepreneur Asma Khan recently explained that although women cook in homes across the region, professional settings remain male-trained, male-networked and male-rewarded. One can almost hear the echo of the domestic-kitchen / professional-brigade divide: at home, she is the cook; in the hotel, she is invisible.
Interviewees from the Times Now piece highlight that for many women there is a combination of factors: long unsocial hours, the expectation of physical endurance, and entrenched hierarchies where senior (male) chefs expect new recruits to “prove themselves” in grueling shifts. Add to that societal expectations — in many Asian cultures the woman still shoulders child-rearing and elder-care duties — and a narrative of “either career or family” persists. The article shows that this leads to attrition and fuels the stereotype that women in kitchens are less committed.
Yet the facts also show cracks in that status quo. In Thailand, for instance, chef Pichaya ‘Pam’ Soontornyanakij has made history as the first Asian woman to receive the title of World’s Best Female Chef 2025. Her success both contradicts the scarcity narrative and underlines that when the path is paved, women can flourish. In Sri Lanka, a new resort operated entirely by women is opening doors of possibility: training, hospitality, leadership. These aren’t just feel-good stories — they serve as indicators of latent potential being unleashed.
Still, the structural issues remain formidable. Kitchens are described in research as hierarchically rigid and often beholden to a “macho culture” of stamina, intimidation and competitiveness. Movements such as mentorship programmes and gender-equity initiatives (for example by international hotel groups) are gaining traction, but in Asia those programmes are still in early stages. The Times Now article emphasises that simply recruiting more women is not enough — what’s needed is promotion parity, role-models, and work-life flexibility (柔軟な勤務形態, jūnan na kinmu keitai).
In sum, the low presence of women among chefs in high-level Asian hotels is not due to lack of talent or desire — it is a complex interplay of cultural expectations (文化的期待, bunkateki kitai), working-condition realities, limited visibility and the inertia of tradition. As Spicy Auntie would say — it’s time we marched those women from the back of the kitchen to the head of the pass. Because when our region’s finest hotels still look like a boys’ club behind the stove, we are missing out on half the creative power of our society.
Ah, the eternal kitchen paradox! Men still strut around calling themselves “top chefs,” while women—who’ve been cooking since humanity discovered fire—are politely told they “lack stamina” for the heat. Really? Auntie’s great-grandmother used to cook for twelve while balancing a baby on her hip and carrying firewood on her back. But apparently, that’s not enough to qualify for a five-star hotel kitchen.
Let’s be honest, darlings: the culinary patriarchy is absurd. Somewhere between the prehistoric cave and the Hilton brunch buffet, men decided that when they cook, it’s an art form—and when we do, it’s just “feeding the family.” The Michelin Guide glorifies the “genius male chef,” the intense perfectionist who screams in the kitchen, while the equally skilled woman who runs a noodle stall or warung is never even mentioned. Funny how male temper tantrums are called “passion” and women’s ambition is “attitude.”
Auntie has seen those glossy hotel kitchens across Asia—Tokyo, Bangkok, Singapore, Bali. Polished stainless steel, white jackets, Michelin stars… and barely a woman in sight. The excuses are always the same: “too tough,” “too long hours,” “too masculine.” Oh please. Women endure childbirth, unpaid care, and in-laws who think “helping in the kitchen” means tasting the soup. Don’t tell me they can’t handle a little pressure and a heavy wok.
The real problem isn’t women’s ability—it’s the system. No social services, no childcare, no fair maternity policies. You want women in hotel kitchens? Then build daycare centers near the hotels, offer proper shifts, and stop treating childcare as “women’s personal issue.” Give us a level starting point, and you’ll see how fast the rankings change.
And the irony? When men start cooking, suddenly the salaries rise, the prestige soars, the TV cameras arrive. Auntie still remembers when the neighborhood aunties in Penang or Chiang Mai were the ones who defined “Asian flavor.” They were the true culinary innovators—spicy sambal, fragrant laksa, or perfectly folded dumplings, all created without sous vide machines or PR agencies.
So yes, Auntie is amused—but also a bit angry. We cooked your caverns, we cooked your childhood meals, and we’ll cook your future too. It’s time to let women command the kitchen—not as sous-chefs, but as chefs de cuisine, bosses of the heat, the heart, and the art. Now pass me the chili, darling. Auntie’s got a revolution to season.