Providoor Furore

On George Calombaris, Shane Delia, & The Elephant in The Kitchen

With rose tinted glasses we as Melburnians proudly espouse our golden multicultural city. Over unhurried espressos on Lygon we muse about the city’s Italian heart. Bitter frappes in Oakleigh on a warm summer’s afternoon? You may as well be in Athens. And who amongst us hasn’t slurped a pho on Barkly, reclined on their plastic stool, and rejoiced in the worldly palate of this great melting pot?

This, of course, is bullshit. Recent referendums notwithstanding, Melburnians are not dissimilar to the rest of Australia when it comes to embracing ethnic minorities, in that we will do so gleefully, up until a point. We will eat their native cuisines, proudly displaying the breadth of our cultural benevolence one Instagram story at a time. When quizzed at dinner parties, vicious games of one-up-manship inevitably break out over who has eaten the strangest food in the strangest place, or about whose local top-secret eatery is the most quaint and authentic. We gather these little morsels of the cultural heritage of others like badges on a scout’s uniform, to be shown off, like little souvenirs. What we don’t like is when those quaint and authentic places become a little too big, don’t pay their staff’s super, or honour their gift vouchers.

So here we land at Providoor, the pandemic-era food delivery success story helmed by Melbourne celebrity chef Shane Delia, and latterly resuscitated by his former mentor and business partner, the resurgent phoenix of Highett, George Calombaris. To truly understand the lightning rod of controversy that is Providoor is to unpack the complex detachment most Australians have to the realities of the hospitality business, and more sinisterly, the average Australian’s underlying racism. So, like a carefully packed cardboard box full of semi-prepped restaurant food, let’s unpack it, shall we?

George Calombaris is a name few Australians don’t recognise, and a man just as few will forgo the opportunity to give an opinion of. George famously began his career at the Burwood branch of Fasta Pasta, a long since closed icon of 90’s Australiana, whose rich legacy of simplicity and cheap ingredients lives on across the many and varied mid-level Italianish restaurants which now proliferate the CBD and inner suburbs of Melbourne. From there, a rapid ascent to stardom culminated in his star turn as head chef of the award winning Reserve, a fussy post-Adria fine diner, where various dollops and smears adorned clear perspex plates, and foams appeared with a ubiquity equivalent to 2023’s kingfish crudo scourge.

When Reserve closed in sudden acrimony in 2005, leaving the entire staff (including Calombaris) without a job and their entitlements owing, the young tyro struck out on his own. Taking over the cavernous former Herald Sun headquarters on Flinders Street, Calombaris opened The Press Club, which would become the signature restaurant in his empire. A high end melding of traditional Greek cooking and the overworked molecular gastronomy that propagated the era, The Press Club became much lauded, winning The Age’s Best New Restaurant, with Calombaris winning Chef Of The Year. It was a landmark cultural shift. Far removed from the perceived elegance of other European cuisines, Greek food had never been given the sort of attention and elevation that The Press Club afforded it in Melbourne.

A star was born, and a string of offshoots began to pad out the chef’s MAdE group: Hellenic Republic in Brunswick, PM24 in the space now occupied by unfortunate Tinder date hotspot Lucy Liu, St. Katherine’s in Kew, and Mama Baba in South Yarra, latterly home to the cacophonous Hindenburg-caliber catastrophe that was Manu Fiedel’s ultra short-lived Le Grand Cirque. A hotel restaurant in Mykonos. A chain of souvlaki bars. None ultimately stood the test of time, the approachable Hellenic Republic and its pleasing taverna-style fare ultimately the only venue of that lot to become an established and reliable restaurant. Then, of course, the monolithic comet to superstardom that was the chef’s breakout celebrity moment, Masterchef Australia. Before this though, and in fact the first venture for Calombaris outside of Press Club, is ironically the only one still operating to this day. In fair Bond Street, where we lay our scene, stands Maha, a collaboration between Calombaris and his garrulous, muscle-bound protege, Shane Delia.

Delia, who had plied his trade at the Sofitel and Chateau Yering, channeled his Maltese heritage, accented with the flavours of his wife Maha’s Lebanese background, to create Maha Bar & Grill. Instantly picking up where Greg Malouf’s recently closed MoMo left off, Maha became an instant hit, the modern atmospheric reading of Middle Eastern cuisine becoming a popular haunt for romantic encounters and business lunches alike. Candidly, it was one of my favourite places to eat in the city, the signature Turkish Delight donuts a particularly memorable food moment for me growing up. Though Delia would eventually break away from MAdE group, his career would follow a similar trajectory to Calombaris; expansion, a successful foray into television, and a near-identical attempt to break into franchisable QSR with his “Biggie Smalls” kebab brand. 

A charismatic and personable figure, Delia rose to become a prominent leader in the Australian food scene. Through myriad collaborations and sponsorships, and in no small part due to his role on Channel 9’s “PostCards” (where he would regularly use his platform to showcase underserved minorities), Delia came to be known as a voice for the industry. So, as the ominous cloud of the pandemic approached, and restaurants began to pivot to take away, it was no surprise that Delia assumed a leadership position. Attempting to circumvent the quality control issues related to providing restaurant quality food in the home (charred fermented flatbreads with stracciatella and dill oil doesn’t travel too well bundled into a Deliveroo rider’s bag), Delia used his considerable network to create a new type of food delivery service. As anyone who has worked in a kitchen knows, producing restaurant food is largely about preparation. Providoor provided prepped and partially cooked ingredients that the consumer could finish at home, accompanied by instructions and diagrams on how to finish and plate them.

Providoor added a sense of occasion to the long and monotonous Melbourne lockdown, where the theater and excitement of restaurants, and the pleasure of having someone else cook for you, was lost. I personally used Providoor 3-4 times, and found it to be an enjoyable if perhaps unnecessary indulgence. A cheese platter from Maker & Monger, an Italian feast from Rosetta, a banquet from Supernormal; all very pleasant, with the obvious drawback of obscene amounts of plastic and cardboard wastage. A particular highlight; a finish at home Entrecote meal featuring a personally recorded movie, reached through a QR code, showing owner Jason Jones lovingly preparing and explaining the menu. It was a gimmick, but at the time, it was fun, and a welcome distraction from lockdown.

Perhaps buoyed by a distorted sense of the brand’s relevance (due to the captive audience fostered by the length of Melbourne’s lockdowns), Providoor then expanded interstate, all the while investing in all the technological and logistical infrastructure that an expanding enterprise demands. Employing 20 staff and now boasting a catalogue of some of the best and most respected chefs across Melbourne and Sydney, the sky looked like the limit for Providoor. 

Unfortunately for Delia, the lockdowns were lifted, and while the idea of an easy to execute restaurant quality meal in your own home still retained occasional significance, the reality was that people were ready to go out again. Sentiment had changed, funding was withdrawn, and Delia’s gambit that Providoor had tapped into a new intermediary style of food consumption didn’t pay off.

In life and in business, failure is inevitable. There is no shame in trying something and missing the mark. Where the story takes an unfortunate turn can be found in the wreckage; there amongst the redundant staff, the delivery vans, the endless branded packaging and the broken agreements with restaurants lay the biggest problem for Delia: over $4 millions dollars in unhonoured Providoor gift vouchers. This was going to be a problem.

The twin fates of Calombaris and Delia intertwine like two Shakespearean figures destined to reflect the other’s path. Just as Delia ascended in the wake of Providoor’s initial success, Calombaris began to come apart. I have met George briefly and found him to be a decently friendly, normal person. I have had friends work for him, some very negative about the experience, some relatively praiseful. For the sake of clarity, I should state that in my view, his success always seemed a mystery to me. Across many dining experiences I found his venues wanting, and his cuisine, especially the experimental fusion at The Press Club, overworked and not to my liking. When rumours of a large scandal relating to underpayment began to circulate, I will confess to not being surprised; it is a common refrain that chefs who achieve a degree of popularity and success inevitably start to believe that they are clever businessmen. And while George was no doubt a success story, a talented chef and a very skilled networker, he is not a qualified business professional. He’s not an accountant. He doesn’t possess an MBA or a lifetime of experience in the private sector. He’s a cook, and he was in over his head.

I hold some suspicions that Calombaris’s sin was willful ignorance. It is not uncommon in the hospitality industry for high profile chefs to pay scant regard to award rates and superannuation; after all, a functioning organization of that size should have HR and accounting departments overseeing such things. Do I think that George Calombaris sat down with his team of managers and systematically plotted to deprive his staff of their wages? No. Do I think his mind was most likely on matters relating to his personal brand, his expansion, and perhaps select extracurricular activities? Yes, but perhaps that’s what is to be expected from a celebrity chef. These considerations do not excuse MAdE’s egregious errors, and select statements made in the public domain, particularly ones that relate to the viability of weekend and holiday rates for front of house staff, paint the picture of a man with questionable ethics. I choose to believe the truth is somewhere in between. 

As someone who has worked at a restaurant that collapsed and went into administration, as Calombaris ironically did at Reserve, I can say from experience that it is difficult to pin the entirety of the blame on one person, particularly one who essentially served as a figurehead brand ambassador. The unpleasant truth is that in hospitality, young workers are often complicit in wage theft. Through lack of experience and out of a fear of causing conflict, they agree to lower rates, choosing not to undertake any due diligence on their legal entitlements, or at least foregoing that uncomfortable conversation. I’ve done it. For many years I worked at below award rates, because I wanted to prove myself worthy, to put the business first. Thankfully, there are now safeguards in place to protect against this, no doubt in part owing to the seismic public humiliation incurred by Calombaris. The truth is that these practices were commonplace for many, many years. Your favourite restaurant probably did it, and perhaps still does. Your friend who managed restaurants probably did it to their staff.

Once again, the fates of the one time master and apprentice coalesce, like so much peppered balsamic fig on grilled saganaki cheese. Just as George Calombaris began to re-emerge into the public eye with his Highett restaurant Hellenic House Project in 2023, it was now Delia’s turn to face the wrath of the public. It is not an understatement to say that people were, and remain, extremely pissed off about Providoor’s going into receivership without refunding their gift vouchers.The rest of us are left to query how on earth there were $4 million worth of vouchers out there: surely people are just going out to restaurants now? I mean, you don’t have to do the dishes. Isn’t that the whole point? Still, those left holding the now useless vouchers are furious.

A further investigation into the rage, however, shows a deeper issue at play. The invective being spewed at Delia on social media and in newspaper comments sections began to resemble that leveled at Calombaris during his wage scandal. Words like “slimy”. “Sneaky”. “Greasy”. High profile restaurateurs and celebrity chefs have had numerous public failures, but few were greeted with the disdain and racially charged vitriol of Calombaris and Delia.

It is once again an example of Australia’s propensity for racial profiling, always simmering just below the skin. We love to be seen to be worldly and cultured, sipping ouzo and eating school prawns at Hellenic republic or raki and kibbeh at Maha, up until the point where it interferes with our money. When the proponents of these cultures rise to a social standing in which they can dictate the terms, Australians are quick to push back. Calombaris, perhaps presciently, called his souvlaki chain “Jimmy Grant’s”, after all; school yard slang for immigrant. There is no doubt in my mind that both Calombaris and Delia became a little too popular and successful for their own good. So, when their downfall came, a large portion of the public were ready to revel in it, racial slurs and all. I am not excusing Calombaris or Delia for their sins. What I am saying is, if their names were James Campbell and Stephen Davies, the public discourse about their culpability for these errors would be very different.

So now we reach the final twist, one in which fact becomes much stranger than fiction. When news broke that the Providoor brand was to be resuscitated, with a cohort of Australian food personalities at the helm, even the most ironical satirist could not dream that Calombaris would be one of them. Yet there he was, front and centre, his shamelessness so overt as to be almost commendable. George is picking up where Shane left off, and the residual outrage over unhonoured gift vouchers and wage theft continues to spill through the comments sections. The racist comments will continue, just as I suspect they have towards both men since their childhood. Both men have strived, succeeded, failed, and been reborn, and I can’t help but want to see where their paths lead next.