I love doing demonstrations. I think to be a great chef you have

Michael Symon, the chef whose laughter and energy fill kitchens with joy, once proclaimed: “I love doing demonstrations. I think to be a great chef you have to be a great teacher. I love doing classes with people who love food and enjoy food, bringing them all around one table so to speak.” These words shine with wisdom, for they reveal that the highest calling of a chef is not only to cook, but to teach, to share, and to bring people together in the fellowship of food. In his saying lies the truth that food is not merely sustenance, but a medium of communion, learning, and joy.

The origin of this thought arises from the very essence of cookery. To prepare food is already an act of generosity: the transformation of raw ingredients into nourishment for others. But Symon extends this generosity further, declaring that the greatness of a chef lies in the ability to pass on knowledge, to teach others not just how to eat, but how to understand and rejoice in the making of food. A demonstration, then, becomes more than instruction—it is an act of communion, where the chef’s art becomes the people’s inheritance.

History provides countless examples where food and teaching are intertwined. In ancient Greece, symposia were feasts where philosophy was served alongside wine, and teachers guided thought as freely as they poured drink. In monasteries of medieval Europe, monks preserved recipes for bread, beer, and cheese, not for their own sake alone, but as knowledge to sustain the community and future generations. Even in modern times, Julia Child brought French cooking into the homes of millions, not through silent recipes, but through the art of demonstration, her teaching transforming fear of the kitchen into delight. Each of these echoes Symon’s truth: that food and teaching are inseparable.

The emotional power of Symon’s words lies in his image of the table. The table is one of humanity’s oldest symbols of unity. Around it families gather, strangers become friends, and communities are bound together. To “bring them all around one table” is not merely to share a meal, but to share life itself. When Symon teaches cooking, he does not merely transfer knowledge—he recreates the table as a sacred place where joy, wisdom, and nourishment are passed hand to hand.

Yet his saying also carries a challenge. For to be a teacher in the kitchen requires humility and patience. A great chef may master flavors and techniques, but without the ability to inspire and uplift others, that mastery dies with him. Teaching ensures that skills live on, that the art of food is not hoarded but multiplied. This is the difference between a cook who feeds bodies for a day and a teacher who feeds generations with knowledge and confidence.

The lesson is clear: whatever your craft—whether cooking, writing, building, or leading—strive not only to perfect it for yourself, but to teach it to others. Demonstration transforms private mastery into communal wealth. By sharing your skills, you build bonds, empower others, and ensure that your art does not perish with you but flourishes beyond your lifetime. Teaching is the flame that lights other flames, a fire that grows brighter the more it is shared.

Practically, this means that in daily life, you should seek out opportunities to gather others at your table, whatever form your table takes. Share your recipes, your wisdom, your insights. Teach not with arrogance, but with joy and generosity, remembering that every student is also a companion at the feast of learning. And when you yourself are seated at another’s table, come with humility, eager to learn. In this way, life becomes a continual exchange of nourishment—of food, of wisdom, of spirit.

Thus, Michael Symon’s words echo with timeless truth: a great chef must also be a great teacher, for food is not only eaten, it is shared, explained, and celebrated. Carry this wisdom into your own craft, O seeker, and let your table—whether literal or symbolic—be a place where knowledge, joy, and fellowship are served in abundance. For in teaching, as in cooking, the true feast is not in what we consume, but in what we give.