How one Vancouver chef burnt out in the kitchen, then rewired his future

Vancouver-based Tarek Chellouf says there are moments in the series The Bear that feel ripped straight from his life. Take episode seven, where the printer keeps spitting out tickets after a sandwich special overwhelms the kitchen and Carmy, the head chef, loses his mind. “I had that exact situation happen,” Chellouf recalls—except it wasn’t sandwich-order tickets, it was breakfast vouchers for a ton of guests that arrived on a cruise ship. The front-of-house manager—“who was not good at his job,” says Chellouf—forgot to warn the kitchen they were coming. It was just one example of what he calls a rampant lack of leadership—and the kind of chaos that, over time, wore him down.

But for all the intensity, Chellouf hadn’t set out to be a chef at all—he stumbled into cooking by accident. As an 18-year-old with a younger brother to support and rent to pay, Chellouf found an unexpected lifeline in the kitchen. What began as a means to an end soon ignited a surprising love for the fast-paced, high-skill world of the culinary arts—and kicked off a career that now spans two decades.

Chellouf cut his teeth in hotel and restaurant kitchens, working every station in sight. Seven years in, he doubled down, enrolling in culinary school to sharpen his technical chops. From there, he jumped into the high-volume world of banquets—cranking out meals for up to 500 guests on weekends. The grind paid off: he climbed to sous chef at the Marriott in downtown Vancouver. And, somewhere in the chaos, he even checked off a career dream, spending five years teaching both future chefs and passionate home cooks.

Yet beneath the hustle and passion, Chellouf came to see a hard truth: the culinary world often chews up its workers. Low pay, relentless hours and poor leadership take their toll on many employees. “Just because someone is a savant at cooking doesn’t mean they’ll be good at teaching people how to cook,” the 38-year-old says. In his view, fragile egos at the top create a toxic culture that quickly wears people down and drives them to burnout.

By the time COVID shuttered his hotel’s kitchen, Chellouf was at a crossroads—ready to pivot but unsure where to turn. Talking with some childhood friends who were electricians, Chellouf was struck by the unexpected parallels between their trade and his own. Both demanded hands-on skill, mental agility and constant problem-solving.

What ultimately drew the former chef to the trade was its precision—clear rules, strict codes and high standards.

Eventually, Chellouf signed up for BCIT’s “Student for a Day” program, which allows prospective students to audit a class. He attended during “Condo Week,” when participants wire a 120-square-foot mock condo with lights, receptacles and blueprints. On site, Chellouf picked the instructor’s brain and walked around talking to students (“Who were half my age,” he says). The experience convinced him to take the leap and enrol full-time in the institute’s Electrical Foundation program.

As graduation approached, Chellouf faced the challenge of breaking into a new industry. Unlike in cooking—where you could volunteer for a shift or meet a chef through connections—trade jobs often meant submitting online applications alongside dozens of others. Some postings drew 90 applicants in just 24 hours, and his early efforts went unanswered. So, he went old-school: picking up the phone.

Calling Western Integrated directly connected Chellouf with the firm’s operations manager, and an interview soon followed. The hiring team was intrigued by his resumé, recognizing the work ethic forged through years in professional kitchens. Soon after, he joined the company as a Level 1 apprentice, working on a major lighting project at YVR and earning about the same as he had at the peak of his cooking career.

Yet, starting over came with its own humbling—and often funny—moments. “In December, I was teaching people how to make fine dining cuisine and how to properly sear the perfect steak,” Chellouf recalls. “Now, I’m an absolute beginner learning a new skill from square one.”

Chellouf is in the trades to stay. He’s aiming for his Red Seal within five years, with dreams of moving into a foreman role or even teaching again. For now, he’s relishing life “on the tools”—and while the occasional private dining gig keeps his culinary skills sharp, the kitchen chapter is otherwise closed. The career leap, he says, brings “mostly just excitement”—along with deep gratitude for the friends and mentors who helped him make it.