The Collaboration Spiral

You bring your tweezers. I’ll bring mine.

What started as a creative collision between two chefs has turned into a marketing reflex. Chef collabs used to mean something rare: two minds, two styles, one night only. Now it’s an Ottawa default—events stacked like pancakes, with the same dozen names trading kitchens and hashtags.

We’ve reached the point where chefs from the same city are teaming up across town, like they haven’t been sharing suppliers, staff, and industry gossip for years. Meanwhile, out-of-town pairings are just as puzzling—dinners with visiting chefs no one’s heard of, brought in with no context, no chemistry, and no clear reason other than to try to fill seats.

Don’t get us wrong: we love collaboration. But when every other event is billed as “two chefs, one night,” you start to wonder—what happened to solo vision? To editing? To actual curation?

Many of these dinners feel more like networking exercises than genuine creative risks. Courses alternate like turn-taking toddlers. Themes are often unclear. Harmony, rare. The only consistent throughline? A higher price point and a longer night.

Worse, the promotional language has fossilized:
“A one-night-only experience.”
“A unique culinary journey.”
“Two chefs. Ten courses. Endless possibilities.”

It’s not endless if we can predict the format, the ingredients, and the closing chocolate tuile.

Maybe it’s time to take a breath. A single chef. A single idea. A dinner that doesn’t need backup to feel complete.