Finding Myself Through Gender And Food

My name is Tucker Hanley, I use she/her pronouns, and I’m the executive chef at Café Euphoria in Troy, New York. Café Euphoria is a transgender-owned and operated restaurant and community space that’s slated to open late 2021. It’s still surreal that I’m following what was always a far-off dream for me. Food and cooking are as much a part of my identity as my gender, and I’m unbelievably lucky that they’re coming together in such a novel way. Now that I‘ve embarked on my own journey through transition, I feel like I can come to terms with my relationship with food, gender, and how they came together to make me who I am.

I grew up in a house with home-cooked meals and parents who encouraged my brothers and I to try new things. I was raised on bowls of hot tikka masala, Mom’s homemade ramen, and my favorite Thai peanut satay over rice. Restaurants were a treat; sometimes they were the place where we would learn that Dad got a new job, and sometimes our parents just needed a break. As I got older, I discovered a love of cuisine that was fostered by shows like Anthony Bourdain’s 'No Reservations', 'Good Eats with Alton Brown', and the occasional dip into Guy Fieri’s 'Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives'.

“The best memories are those that come with a good meal and loved ones...”

— TUCKER HANLEY

It was Bourdain who really struck a chord with me: a troubled man with a sharp tongue who was equally at home in a dive-bar as he was in a Michelin-starred establishment. As a lanky, awkward white kid of 13 or 14, I idolized him and his confidence. The places he traveled to, the food he ate and the stories he elevated were a driving force in my desire to become a writer. He was an aspirational figure for an angry, confused teen who didn’t know how to navigate her emotions or the world around her. I recognize now that I was desperately clinging to outdated ideas of masculinity that I could never connect with, represented by a man I could never be.

My identity and food are deeply interwoven, their individual elements melded in a pot that began to boil over as I lost sight of myself through gender dysphoria, depression, and the mounting pressure to find a career that would make my parents proud. It’s only fitting then that the turning point in my life was working a weekend as the chef for a writers’ retreat. In the midst of a global pandemic, out in the boonies of northern Vermont, I stayed at a castle with a group of people who were writing 'Dungeons & Dragons' adventures. On paper I would get to cook, play games with these folks and maybe find some inspiration for my hobby.

This retreat was the first time I identified myself as a woman publicly. No one batted an eye; they respected me and my existence, and they didn’t come at me with endless questions or accusations. They accepted who I was. Cooking ate up most of my time that weekend, but between meals, snacks, bottomless tea refills, and an impromptu late-night fried egg, I found the confidence to be myself.

In my experience, the best memories are those that come with a good meal and loved ones. I remember the classic Christmas dinners with my family and the bagels we’d have for breakfast Christmas Day. When I think about my time as a camp counselor, I remember the perfect chocolate mousse pie from Noon Mark Diner in Keene Valley on a sweltering July afternoon with a gaggle of middle schoolers in tow. My first Thanksgiving with my partner’s family was my introduction to their criminally delicious pork sausage stuffing. My first time crossdressing, the first time I felt gender euphoria, was at a friend’s holiday gender-bender potluck. The first meals my partner and I had in our new home were freezer-aisle breakfast burritos eaten on dust-covered floors while we renovated and made this house our own.

Not everyone has these positive memories, and I recognize that as a cook I have the power to change that. At Café Euphoria I could maybe, just maybe, give someone a happy memory. I have no delusions of earning Michelin stars or gaining celebrity chef fame. However, if I can be an inspiration to even one trans person who may be doubting themselves, I’ll be happy.

“If I can be an inspiration to even one trans person who may be doubting themselves, I’ll be happy.”

As a transgender woman, navigating society is challenging on a good day. I get stared down by creeps, bigots and homophobes on a daily basis. I’ve felt the looks and heard the whispers when I walk out of the bathroom that fits my identity. Recently I was out in Syracuse in western New York and I was wearing a dress. Everywhere I went, I could taste the hate and rage these people held towards me. When a man ran down the street after me from the bar I had left with my friends, the first thought that went through my mind was “at least my jacket will stop a knife long enough for me to run away.” The only time I felt safe in the course of that evening was when I made it back to my motel room.

The fear I felt, the discomfort and unease that filled that evening, is an everyday occurrence. It may not always be that extreme, but it’s always there. Whenever I go out to run errands alone in my own neighborhood, I make sure I have something to defend myself with. At old jobs, I’ve had to hide myself for fear of persecution and termination for being trans, in spite of laws to prevent that. I desperately needed a workplace to support me and any trans folks unconditionally.

So when the opportunity came up for me to join the team at Café Euphoria, I knew I had to take it. As someone who’s never worked in an explicitly queer space with openly trans people until now, Euphoria is the perfect place for me to prove myself. Our general manager and project visionary Atsushi Akera had this dream of a trans-centric space with a home kitchen vibe, a place where trans folks can work and be their truest selves in safety and comfort. With each milestone we hit, this dream becomes more real. It’s only a matter of time before we open our doors and show the world that we’re here, we’re proud, and we aren’t afraid.

“I never want to go back to hiding myself. I never want to simply keep my head down and scrape by again.”

It then falls to me to create a menu that reinforces that vision. Honest food that respects its roots, dishes that showcase local farmers and their products, comfort cuisine that makes you feel safe and loved and welcome in this home away from home. My dining room table is currently buried under stacks of cookbooks and my own chicken-scratch notes, the precious few physical artifacts from my hunt for inspiration. I’m drawing on my tragically limited experience traveling abroad to find food that speaks to me and can be brought to the Capital Region in a respectful way. Working with a vegan, vegetarian and pescatarian menu, I’m heading into territory I haven’t explored professionally and I’m thrilled at the challenge.

My industry experience comes from the kind of restaurants where burgers, bacon and beer reign supreme. I wasn’t out of the closet at these places in part because of the culture that these more traditional kitchens fostered. To me, these kitchens were toxic, hyper-masculine spaces where anyone who wasn’t a cis-het white man was a target for off-color jokes and locker room talk. The few women I worked alongside were tough ladies who didn’t take that nonsense sitting down, but there was still that ever-present misogyny looming overhead, waiting for the women to leave before coming back out in force. I never had the confidence in myself to speak out against this culture, so I kept my head down and my mouth shut. It was easier than trying to break the mold, but it hurt me in a way that I’m only now recognizing.

I never want to go back to hiding myself. I never want to simply keep my head down and scrape by again. Now that I run the kitchen at Café Euphoria, I feel like I’m finally free to be myself. More importantly, I can set an example and give my cooks the freedom to explore themselves and their craft that I’ve been missing. Until now I’ve had to make an impossible choice; either explore myself through food, or explore myself through gender expression. It was always easier to cook than it was to accept and love myself. As I continue to transition, I can see that I’m not making that impossible choice anymore; now I can throw my whole being into my craft and show the world what I’m capable of.