Professional chefs don't have it easy. They spend much of their day trapped in a stifling room full of noise and sweat and potential disaster. Even before orders start rolling in, they're busy ordering produce, training line cooks and calling appliance repairmen.

It's a glamorous life.

After a week's worth of that kind of punishment, the thought of dining out has about as much appeal as, say, a corporate team-building retreat or tickets to see the comedic stylings of Pauly Shore. Under the circumstances, potato chips and a few bottles of beer might make for a better evening.

"It's true," says Rudolf Doležal of Oliva with a laugh. Not that he grabs a pack of Pringles on his way home, mind you. But he admits, "I prefer my kitchen at home."

When they get some down time — as Jiří Petřík of Černý Kohout explains, "I'm so busy there's not much time left to even be at home"— the kitchen wizards rarely whip up intricate meals. After all, chefs at upscale restaurants spend a good portion of their life handling salmon, foie gras and other fine ingredients. By the time they make it home, they're in no mood for bluefin tuna with black pepper sauce and a ginger risotto. Indeed, says Roman Paulus of CzecHouse in the Hilton Prague, "I prefer simple stuff which is quick and easy to cook, such as pasta."

Do they ever duplicate their restaurant's menus at home? Dolezal just snorts, "No, no!"

Yet cooking is their profession, and that means they have to spend time in other restaurants. "It's a competition," says Miloš Fojt, chef de cuisine at Square. If you fail to check out what others are trying and ignore culinary changes, you risk falling behind. "I get new inspiration," Fojt continues, either by sampling other people's recipes or "finding out that we do something better than the others."

"I like to see the work of other chefs," claims Dušan Jakubec of Flambee, who limits his excursions to a few of the fancier places in town. Petřík, too, targets restaurants of a similar ilk, just to keep an eye on his competitors. Paulus, however, bounces from place to place in an almost indiscriminate manner. The constant array of different venues and flavors, he says, "gives me an idea of what happens elsewhere. From a professional point of view, it makes more sense."

Some chefs worry about the debilitating effects of spreading themselves too thin. After all, what's there to learn from an iffy goulash or mediocre steak? And, as Doležal points out, "It's very difficult to find something good in Prague, you know."

Decades of communist control and a population sufficiently inured to soggy potato dumplings and leathery meat have left this city in a kind of culinary backwater, from which it's only now starting to emerge. That's why Jakubec jets off to London when he's looking to pick up a few new ideas. Fojt wanders away to vineyards around Europe, trying out pairings of wine and food.

But do they have favorites in Prague? Certainly.

Most like to check in with friends at other upscale places like Brasserie M, La Veranda, Zlatá Praha and Rybí Trh. Paulus survived cooking school with Jiří Štift at the Alcron, and often stops back for a look at what's new. "He has been working so hard to keep learning new things," says Paulus of his friendly rival.

Doležal settles for places preparing simple, classic fare such as Aromi, Havali or Olympos, the popular Greek joint in Žižkov.