Joe McNamee: Bullying was embedded in the DNA of London kitchens — here's my experience

The only lesson those English chefs absorbed was Bullying 101.

Fri, 20 Mar, 2026 - 02:00

I suspect it was the extraordinary prices for Noma’s LA pop-up that have drawn back into the spotlight the long-running saga of a bullying culture at the once world-renowned, now permanently closed Copenhagen restaurant. Running from March until June, with seats at $1,500 (€1,299) a head, it equates to $63,000 (€55,560) per night, totalling over $4m (€3.5m).

Overwhelming outrage at the perceived obscenity of wealthy excess became worldwide news; local LA chefs accused Noma of picking their pockets, taking their diners, even as they fight for survival in turbulent times in the US.

Accusations of bullying against Noma’s extraordinary chef-leader Rene Redzepi are not new but resurfaced with a vengeance. Former head of Noma’s fermentation lab Jason Ignacio White detailed physical and psychological abuse witnessed during his three-year stint, supplemented by allegations from other ex-Noma employees. His Instagram posts have received over 14m views.

The New York Times conducted its own investigations, revealing physical abuse by Redzepi, including punching employees in the face, jabbing them with kitchen implements, slamming them against walls, along with a lasting legacy of trauma from psychological abuse, including intimidation, body shaming, and public ridicule.

One February night in 2014, Redzepi ordered his staff of 40 out into the cold to form a circle and bear witness as he first verbally, then physically, attacked a sous-chef who had put on techno music in a back production kitchen far beyond earshot of diners. Redzepi didn’t like techno. He began punching the chef in the ribs, screaming that no one could go back inside until he ‘confessed’ to some sexual peccadillo of Redzepi’s imagining.

Months later, I met and interviewed Redzepi at Ballymaloe Litfest. Though obviously driven, he seemed easygoing, affable, clearly devoted to his family. At the next Litfest, I met an Irish chef who scorned the cult of Redzepi, still shaken by bullying in Noma.

In London kitchens of the 1980s, my own nemesis was Ken, a deeply sectarian Glaswegian executive chef who spent most days in his tiny office drinking whisky from a mug, observing the kitchen through a window. It seemed he only ever left to make my life hell. I was given the most menial jobs. Each morning, I peeled, through stinging tears, two whole sacks of Spanish onions for deep-fried onion loaf — a job so despised it had been rotated on a daily basis before my arrival.

First the abuse was verbal, including a healthy dose of anti-Irish racism. Every single thing I did was wrong, even when I did it exactly as commanded. Then it became physical.

He’d stand beside me on the line as I cooked, knuckle-stabbing me into the kidneys, cracking my fingers with a steel spatula, blade side-on, telling me I was too shit, too slow. I came to dread work. Looking at a new weekly roster, I’d check for his day off before mine. One morning, I turned off the alarm, went back to sleep and never saw Ken again.

I came to learn that bullying was deeply embedded in the DNA of London kitchens, good, bad, and indifferent, though I would never again be the whipping boy.

The only lesson those English chefs absorbed was bullying 101. My final professional kitchen role was as a head chef back in Ireland. I never so much as raised my voice. Yes, it was highly stressful, but I knew if I lost my temper, I’d ultimately lost the kitchen.

Eventually, the ‘noise’ around the bullying accusations became too loud and US companies American Express and Blackbird severed sponsorship deals with the Noma LA pop up last week. Redzepi announced his resignation from Noma shortly after, with much beating of the breast and expressions of contrition. However, the pop-up will still go ahead.

After all those years, it seems the threat of financial loss finally led him to a place his conscience had hitherto refused to go.

Table talk

The ongoing rise of the Cork on a Fork food festival (August 12-16), celebrating the restaurants, producers and food businesses of Cork city and county continues apace as the five-day fiesta seeks expressions of interest from such businesses before the end of March.

The 2026 edition will feature more than 100 events, including chef collabs, pop-ups, producer tastings, demos, talks and street feasts. If you have an idea for your own unique and distinctive event, email festival director Niamh Murphy at corkonaforkfest@gmail.com, deadline for submissions is March 30.

corkonaforkfest.ie

Adding to their scenic rural Mountain View restaurant, and Petronella Restaurant, in
Kilkenny city, the O’Neill family hospitality group are now adding another outpost in the Marble City to their burgeoning portfolio. Lyla’s is a 46-seat restaurant and cocktail bar led by group executive chef Ger Dunne, with a focus on seasonal Irish produce, also incorporating Table Six, a six-seat chef-led service featuring a bespoke tasting menu, paired drinks, and champagne.

lylas.ie

TODAY’S SPECIAL

Rigney’s Farm Granola, Cookies, Bread products. Picture: Sean Curtin True Media.

Caroline and Joe Rigney, of Rigney’s Farm and B&B, in Co Limerick, produce some of the finest genuinely free range pork in Ireland but amongst the many other strings to Caroline’s bow is a range of oat-based bread mixes, granolas and cookies.

I have especially enjoyed the Oat & Cranberry Cookies, a hefty, rustic and wholesome sweet treat, not overly sugared and with toasty textures further enhanced by the chewy and faintly tart dried fruit, a mighty partner to a pot of freshly brewed tea. And, for those with gluten intolerances or even full-blown coeliac disease, they also just happen to be gluten-free, like all the rest of the products in the range, €4.95.