Someone has to draw the line at the gimmicks churned out year after year by the self-appointed guardians of the English language. Now, you might accuse me of reading an idiom too literally. But it’s not that. ‘Chef’s kiss’ is neither clever nor particularly evocative. It’s no ‘rat’s arse’, a phrase I’m rather fond of.
For the uninitiated who missed the news in July, ‘chef’s kiss’ refers to a visual representation of a chef holding out his fingers as if to kiss them, indicating something that meets his approval – like something that’s ‘finger-lickin’ good’ of the ‘Mama mia!’ kind. How does it capture the zeitgeist of evolving language when it lacks recall – unlike terms such as ‘namaste’ or ‘thumbs up,’ which are represented as emojis on phones? Those terms resonate as visual communications from daily life.
The latest iteration of ‘chef’s kiss’ likely has its roots in the online foodie community, where it circulates in comments sections of food blogs and social media platforms. While its usage can be acknowledged in certain circles, we must call it what it is: the tendency of dictionary authorities to scout the far corners of the internet for entries that attract eyeballs, thereby costing us both language and linguistic integrity.
If we trace the trend back, we can pin it on CD’s eternal rival OED, which raised eyebrows with the introduction of ‘FOMO‘ in 2013. Since then, we’ve seen terms like ‘JOMO’ – joy of missing out (Merriam-Webster, 2019) and ‘thirst trap’ (essentially clickbait in disguise). But ‘chef’s kiss’ is shoving too much bunkum down our throats.
It’s not even a flying kiss, which is self-explanatory. Or a French kiss, which at least describes a recognisable technique that doesn’t require one to be French. If the dictionary wants to suggest a job well done, why not a ‘scientist’s kiss’ or a ‘soldier’s salute’? What’s the discrimination against soldiers? An ‘artist’s kiss’ surely deserves mention, too. Terms like ‘simps’ (a simpleton, or someone who tries too hard to do what another person wants) and ‘incels’ (involuntary celibates), which have also made their way into dictionaries, at least contribute meaningful ideas to language. ‘Chef’s kiss’ shows nothing of linguistic evolution. It’s one of those phrases that might catch a few eyeballs before fading into cold storage in the vast palace of words. Could Jane Austen have written, ‘There is no chef’s kiss equal to the tenderness of heart’? Absurd. Would Salman Rushdie have been better off writing ‘chef’s kiss’ instead of ‘to understand just one life, you have to swallow the world’? No, no, no. Even a trendy chick-lit writer wouldn’t write: ‘He gave her a chef’s kiss from across the room.’ Bah.
Even when used literally in the context of food, how can an amateur give a chef’s kiss to a meal? What value does it hold? The only place I can think of it making sense is in the 2007 film, Ratatouille, where the critic can give a rat’s arse and the rat can return a chef’s kiss.
This isn’t a plea for language policing, just an appeal to common sense. Language should reflect depth, history, and clarity – not just whims of internet culture. If we are to preserve the integrity of our language, we must be discerning about what enters our lexicon. After all, words shape our thoughts and connections.
Let’s choose wisely and ensure that the language we use stands the test of time. Because, ultimately, there’s far more at stake than a mere ‘chef’s kiss’. If You Know, You Know – IYKYK – another new Cambridge entry this year, by the way.
