Since the beginning of summer, about fifteen people have come and gone. The reasons? They vary greatly: disagreements about working hours, the amount of work, and relationships with customers. “The ones I find are problematic,” says the owner of Gentedimare, who is forced to lend a hand in the kitchen himself.
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In the relaxed, romantic, and elegant setting of Golfo Aranci, at the restaurant Gentedimare, the real, silent hard work takes place behind the scenes, among the red-hot stoves and the hands that plate dreams. It is here that Gianluca Fasolino, owner of this historic Sardinian restaurant, launches his silent cry: “I am offering $3,000 a month for an assistant chef. But no one is responding,” he recently confessed in an interview with Repubblica. This is not a faded advertisement on a supermarket notice board or a half-hearted post on a provincial Facebook group. No. It is a genuine, almost desperate appeal launched on social media by someone who, for over twenty years, has been running a restaurant that is a symbol of Gallura, between early mornings spent sourcing ingredients and nights spent working non-stop.
And the message is clear: he would even pay more, up to $5,000, to find someone willing to share that kitchen counter, grit their teeth, and knead the daily bread of the restaurant business alongside him. But the responses—when they arrive—sound like a broken record: “What are the hours?” they ask, before even knowing what's cooking. “When someone writes to me,” says Fasolino, “in most cases they don't even introduce themselves.” The problem, however, goes much deeper than a missing resume or a phone call that never comes. It is a cultural, almost philosophical issue. “After Covid, no one wants to work in the restaurant business anymore,” admits the entrepreneur with a hint of bitterness, but without giving in to cynicism. The suspended time that was lockdown has reshaped priorities, reawakened life needs, and reduced tolerance for fatigue. The kitchen, once a place of alchemy, has become a battlefield to be avoided for many. And the profession of chef, with its unwritten rules and its lexicon of burns, rushing, and concentration, no longer holds the same fascination as it once did.
Meanwhile, Gentedimare continues to operate. It serves up dishes that smell of the sea and memories, welcomes famous faces from the world of cinema and music, and welcomes families in search of authenticity. And behind the stoves, while the aromas rise and the dishes come out at a rapid pace, there is Fasolino. Yes, it's him, who after twenty-five years as an entrepreneur, has now returned to the kitchen out of necessity. “We're fine in the dining room now,” he explains, “I need someone good in the kitchen, because I'm helping out at the moment.” However, the staff situation is a merry-go-round that spins too fast. Since the beginning of the summer, about fifteen people have come and gone. The reasons? They vary greatly: disagreements over working hours, the workload, and customer relations. “The ones I find are problematic,” he says. And when he manages to find a dishwasher willing to start, the trial lasts just four hours: “That same night, he said he didn't want to continue.”
Yet even dishwashers are offered €2,000 net per month by Gentedimare, with room and board included. “I don't think I'm the problem,”says Gianluca. “Some of my employees have been working with me for 25 years.”A fact that speaks louder than a thousand words: there is still something solid in that restaurant. Despite the long days and intense evenings. Despite the pace. And despite the fatigue. In Golfo Aranci, the tourist season never stops. They work seven days a week, but “only in the evening,” the restaurateur specifies. It's a deliberate choice, dictated by a clear analysis of new customer habits: people now go out for dinner. Working hours are from 5 p.m. until closing time, which can be as late as 1 a.m.
Of course, it's not an easy job, but it's well paid and designed to optimize energy. At this point, the question is no longer “how much money does it take to convince someone to work in a kitchen?” but “what has changed in the way we experience work?” Because today, even when faced with generous offers, many young people prefer to look elsewhere. And it's not just a question of money: it's a question of perception, desire, perhaps even disillusionment. “I don't know how these young people manage to get by today,” wonders Fasolino. And it's a question that echoes far beyond the confines of his kitchen.
