I'm the Reason Your Burger Doesn't Look Like the One in the Ad

Welcome back to Restaurant Confessionals, where we talk to the unheard voices of the restaurant industry from both the front- and back-of-house about what really goes on behind the scenes at your favourite establishments. In this episode, a young woman tells us about her relatively novel career in the world of gastronomy: that of the culinary stylist.

I'm a food stylist—or "culinary stylist," if you prefer. Most of the time when I say that, no one really understands what I mean. With so many TV shows about food these days, you'd think that people would have pieced together by now that it is indeed a real job.

In the past, food styling was essentially an optical illusion, and that's still often the case today. For example, when you photograph chicken, it isn't cooked; it's painted with shoe polish. Hamburgers are moved around every which way to appear larger, and the sesame seeds on the bun are individually placed with tweezers. Ice cream scoops are always fake, as is coffee foam.

Most of the time, you're not even seeing real ingredients; they're synthetic. Personally, I rarely use those kinds of tricks. For me, this is about cooking, not chemistry.

Sometimes you have to cheat a little, simply because the products are not always suited to the job. Recently, I was supposed to cook an entire fish that didn't fit on any of the cooking equipment, so I ended up painting it instead. Even so, I doused it with veal stock, so it was a far cry from the typical old tricks. I do often use a little vaporiser that makes products appear shiny and fresh or mimics drops of condensation on a glass of juice. I cook green vegetables in sparkling water so they don't lose their colour. Yet, I abide by one principle: I don't sell people anything I wouldn't eat myself.

Food styling isn't just about placing items on a plate. A single photograph can take hours. Sometimes, I have to run all kinds of errands before even taking a single shot. I have to find the right tablecloth, the right tableware, and the flowers that'll work best with the composition.

While some studios specialise in food photography and have a wide assortment of props on hand, I often start with nothing and have to do everything myself. Trust me, getting IKEA to loan you four bowls is a serious logistical effort. And grocery shopping can easily take a whole day. I end up spending my days at the supermarket, getting weird looks from strangers as I spend an hour comparing two tomatoes, trying to figure out which one has a better shape. So as you can imagine, writing out a grocery list has become and important part of the job; it's no longer something I casually jot down on a spare piece of paper.

I work mostly on photos that end up in magazines, advertising campaigns, TV spots—that kind of thing. I also work on less commercial projects, but in order to make a living, I have to establish relationships with big brands. If you're not in the business, you might think that the world of food, and food styling in particular, is a supportive environment. But in reality, it's tough. In fact, most of the time I receive orders and demands from people in positions of power who have never even set foot inside a kitchen.

One day, during a shoot for a TV commercial, the production manager (who, basically makes sure the whole shoot goes according to plan) told me that she'd only understood the point of my job the day before. Another time, during a meeting, a project manager told me he wanted the result to look "sexy and mouth-watering." Honestly, what did he expect? To see the yogurt sporting a thong?

I also remember having a really disorganised boss who planned nothing in advance. She did everything on instinct. Because she wanted to leave early, she prepared all the meals in advance. But obviously, the cheese, which needed to look like it was melting in the photo, no longer looked like it needed to two hours later. Those are the kinds of people who lose their patience at 5 PM on a Friday. I know it's a pain, but this is how it is: food waits for no one. These are long days. I leave my place by 7 AM, I'm on site by 9, and we work nonstop, on our feet, until 8 PM.

Today, when I see certain images on blogs, I lose my shit. People lay out produce the way you did in the 1940s. The angle is terrible and some ingredients really don't work with the recipe. When these food "ambassadors" show produce that isn't in season, that traveled 7,000 kilometers inside a refrigerated cargo plane, it makes my blood boil. When someone, mid-November, puts tomatoes in a blog recipe, that ain't right.

Food styling isn't for everyone. People don't understand that it can sometimes take three hours to place a single slice of banana on a plate. You also have to have a certain approach to food. You can't do this job if you don't care about food, produce, and flavour—and if you don't spend a little time thinking about what you consume.

As told to Elisabeth Debourse.

This story was originally published in French on MUNCHIES FR.