Slutty Cheff is an anonymous 28-year-old female chef, Vogue columnist, and Instagram personality whose new book, Tart, was released to fanfare in early August. “Slutty” is a London-based cook who grew to major prominence online by skewering a famous, particularly all-white, all-male London kitchen, and has only risen in profile since.

Her book, Tart, is a fictionalized version of Slutty’s experience pivoting from the corporate world to the rough and ready of hospitality, featuring plenty of sex and travails along the way. Curious how this is all playing out behind the scenes, we spoke to her about her discomfort with being placed on a feminist, culinary pedestal, and what this newfound quasi-influencer fame is really like. 

What was the original idea behind the Slutty Cheff Instagram?

I mean, there was no idea. It was all accidental. Everything that’s happened in the last year has been purely luck. I think I just happened to stumble upon this zeitgeisty thing of cheffy bollocks, and then me being a girl and me talking about sex was like a double whammy. 

I found myself having so much to say about my day at work and my experiences, but I was finishing at like midnight, and my friends were in nine-to-fives. So it became this almost diary entry-style thing because I found it so enthralling and crazy, and I just felt an inclination to document it. I’ve always had diaries, religiously, from when I was 12. Initially, I didn’t follow any of my closest friends. It was all just some secret little thing I was doing for fun, not wanting to enter this world of status-y who-is-who. 

The ironic thing is, I ended up really getting hooked on that. And it’s definitely a thing where you do get dopamine hits from fucking likes and shares and comments and stuff. It’s really addictive. I’m actively trying to get the fuck off my phone. But it’s hard. 

How comfortable are you with becoming the (anonymous) face of the female chef in the male-dominated kitchen?

I think it’s just the idea of empowering people in a way that isn’t some weird, really heavily graphic designed campaign from some antiquated corporate board of hospitality where they’re being like, “It’s OK if you’re on your period – you can take five minutes.” I like to talk about the female experience, but I don’t want to be pedantic with the ins and outs. Or if I am, make it entertaining.

This has been a weird conflict thing for me because all the book stuff happened so quickly. I didn’t go to university; I didn’t really know how to write more than an Instagram caption. Suddenly, I was going to these publisher meetings, and I went to a few where they were really trying to pitch it as this campaign-y, feminist activist book, to completely disrupt the hospitality industry. I am actually not in the position to do that, because I’m slightly seduced by the bad aspects of it. I slightly romanticize them, and that is part of the whole experience that I ended up loving. 

What if I just want to entertain and have fun, like any other male writer? I mean, obviously, I would love to see a world where women feel just as capable as men in kitchens. It’s fucked because I know loads of powerhouse women who haven’t thought twice about the things I think about. I grew up in such a matriarchal family where the idea of a man ever being better than you wasn’t even a question. So when I write these posts about being a woman, I’m not saying: “We are weak and it is shit and it is hard and I hate this and we must change it.” I’m being like, “We’re fucking great. They don’t know it, and we’re about to take over.”

I was wondering if your current boyfriend gives a shit about all the sex in the book?

No, he doesn’t. And I think that is a case of, if there was any inclination that he did, then I wouldn’t have got past the first date, because the whole thing about it is fun and silliness and being a bit cheeky and satirical and just not taking shit too seriously, and I wouldn’t ever want to date someone that didn’t see that side of things. If you had any issues with me writing about situations, then I don’t really want to be hanging out with you. He’s a chef, so he proofread all of it to help with the kitchen terminology and stuff like that. And he was just like, “Oof, God, yeah. That was a tough read,” when going past certain moments where I was talking about very intense, successful sex with someone else. But you know, it’s like, “OK, we’ll have a drink and then get over it.”

It’s an interesting fame, because it’s a faceless kind of non-fame. Do you ever feel a pull towards putting your face to it? 

Never, never, never. I can’t figure out if it’s because I’m embarrassed of the sex stuff. I don’t think that’s what it is. I think I just have no inclination to do that. It goes back to the original thing of not wanting to have my own personal Instagram and put myself out in the world of all the subcultures that exist in London, and all of the friends of the friends of the friends and how it all breeds on Instagram, and, “Oh, you know, that person, oh, they’re tagged In this picture.” I find that very invasive and stressful, and I don’t like the idea of people making assumptions based on the way that people portray themselves online. And with this detachment, it means that I’m completely liberated from that; nobody would ever think twice. And that’s so nice. It’s like the nicest thing ever. 

What’s it like living this double life? 

It’s weird. For the first time ever, I’ve achieved this thing that I’m genuinely proud of, like this book, like I’ve done a book, and people seem to enjoy the book. So that is a great thing. It would be nice to go to things. I don’t know, though – is it worth having a fucking pat on the back from some scene-y bastard? I don’t think so. The people that I want to impress and make proud of my life are like my mom, dad, and brother, and my friends and my cousins and my partner, and then obviously people that I admire greatly, like amazing writers and stuff. Outside of that, I’m happy with not having anyone think that I’m good at anything.

I do have a few cases of being with really close friends who know about my Slutty thing. And then meeting people who I met when I was 18 or 19 in this state of angst about my status and who I was and whether I was worthy of hanging out with certain people, and then my friend will introduce me like, “Oh yeah, she does the Slutty Cheff thing.” And then suddenly they’ll be like, “Oh wow. Babe, that’s amazing. I know this photographer. You should definitely do something with him.” And I’m like, “I remember meeting you three years ago, and you didn’t look at me twice. So fuck you.” It is a weird thing. And because you have the detachment from the brand, you can see the switch moment in the head, and it’s a really ugly thing to witness. 

What does the future look like? Is it food, writing? Both?

Right now it’s writing. I’m all or nothing, and I’m sort of obsessive. I was obsessed with kitchens, and now I’m obsessed with writing, and I can’t do two at the same time. But I feel almost first heartbreak-level nostalgia and longing for that time again with kitchens, because I feel like I left it too early. I was posting these Instagrams, and then someone who followed me worked at a literary agency. She told her boss about the Instagram, and then he got me in for a meeting and was like, “Do you want to write a book?” I was like, “What the fuck. Yeah, sure.” I tried to do both at the same time, and it wasn’t doable. I’m definitely not done forever, but I need to do the writing thing full-time at the moment.