Stirring The Pot with chef Emma McCaskill

She's worked in the kitchen of London's ode to nose-to-tail eating, St John, along with Nottingham's progressive, naturalist restaurant Sat Bains. She was the first non-Japanese chef to work at Narisawa in Tokyo, whose central tenets are seasonality and sustainability. She lists Sydney's Japanese fine diner Tetsuya's on her resume and helped put Adelaide's Magill Estate on the Australian fine dining map. She spent 10 months working on the other side of the pass as a food stylist. She's a mother of two, and head chef of successful Adelaide restaurant, The Pot by Emma McCaskill. But don't think you're doing her any favours by asking "how do you do it all?"

What she struggles most with is not the long hours, the physical work or the mental exhaustion of running a kitchen and being a mother, it's simply not being able to spend as much time with her children as she'd like to. And that's an equal struggle for anybody. It certainly prompts the question as to whether men in the same position are asked the same thing. ("They're not.")

And what of her reaction to the popular idea that men and women cook differently? That female chefs want to nurture, comfort and don't have as much to prove on the plate? That men like to show their egos through tasting menus and gadgetry? "I think it's a load of bullshit."

McCaskill says a chef's impulses – where and who they've worked for – that have more of an influence on what a chef puts on the plate rather than whether they are a man or a woman. Not to mention their upbringing and background. The idea that women cook in a feminine way is ridiculous to her.

"Someone said to me a few weeks ago, 'your food's really feminine'. What does that mean? You look at other cuisines that are light, like Japanese. Is that feminine? I truly believe that if that was a closed kitchen, and you didn't know who was cooking that dish, you wouldn't be able to tell if was from a woman or a man."

Before running The Pot by Emma McCaskill, the chef had co-run the two-hat Magill Estate with her then-husband and fellow chef, Scott Huggins. Coming back to South Australia, broadly, was an unplanned move for the chefs. She and Huggins were living in Tokyo at the time. But McCaskill's parents were in Adelaide and Magill Estate came up for tender. And so, in July 2013, the pair made their stay permanent.

I believe if you didn't know who was cooking that dish, you couldn't tell if it was from a woman or a man."

Emma McCaskill

McCaskill was desperate to branch out and do her own thing, and left Magill Estate a year ago. The plan was always to open her own place, but the opportunity to take over The Pot (then called the Melting Pot) in the well-heeled suburb of Hyde Park, came up. It was a big transition, going from the enormous staffed up, tricked up kitchen at Magill, with its binchotan grills, immersion circulators and room to move, to the intimate open kitchen she currently inhabits. "I think," she says, "this is one of the hardest jobs that I've had."

It wasn't just challenging because of the snug space or lack of whizzbang equipment. She'd inherited a heritage restaurant that had been operating for 20 years before she arrived. She had a very clear concept of what she wanted to do, and went in strong. The first thing she said was "I'm not doing that menu." Out went the dishes that regulars had been ordering on their twice-a-week visits, some who had been visiting since the restaurant opened 1998. "That pissed them off. And perhaps, looking back, I should have just gradually taken [menu items] away, to keep the peace a little bit."

But ultimately, the gradual approach would have made her unhappy. She entered The Pot guns blazing. And while she says she initially cost the business a bit in custom, the regulars eventually came back and she won their trust again. She did that by honing her menu to something sympathetic to the neighbourhood while staying true to her simple, lean cooking style. "I've learned a lot the past 12 months, about reading what people want while I watch from the kitchen."

"In the beginning, I was getting it really wrong. I was like,' Oh no, do they not like it?' I'd be saying that to the manager, and he'd say, 'Emma, they like it. Just leave it.' And I'm able to talk to people a lot more now, which is good. There's more engagement."

McCaskill also says her cooking has changed a lot because of the restaurant. "I think I've got to a place now where I've worked out what they like, and what I'm happy to cook, and what I can do in that space. But it's taken me up until now to work it out."

The Pot is more than just her own – now hatted – restaurant. It's a return home for McCaskill, who grew up in the area. "There's always someone that I end up bumping into. I like that aspect of the neighbourhood restaurant. But I do miss being on open land."

Quickfire corner

Music to cook to Oh, I always come in the morning and blast something different each day. Yesterday it was A Tribe Called Quest. It's really good, because I'm usually the only one here for an hour, just by myself.

After-midnight snack I was taking home parathas from the restaurant and making a croque monsieur with one, and then cheese and pickles on another. And then cooking it in a pan. And splitting it with an egg on top. But I was putting on weight really quickly.

Formative food moment My mum used to make Monte Carlos, and they were so good. It is the same recipe we use in the restaurant now. And they're good, but I can't make them exactly like I remember them.

Kitchen weapon at work I've been using the microplane a lot recently. For fresh lemon and lime zest. And my knives.

Non-cooking ninja skill I'm double jointed in my arm. You can't break my arm from the back. It freaks people out, though.