One of my favorite lessons was reinforced while watching, of all things, the premiere episode of Hell’s Kitchen. I’m a big fan of chef Gordon Ramsay (read this great New Yorker profile); I admire his perfectionism, and I think he balances high expectations with just enough gut-punch coaxing to get the most out of his people. What’s more, he has a vital business instinct: if something or someone is not working, that’s it. “Shut it down,” as he would say.

In the midst of last night’s culinary cauldron, there was a dynamic that caught my eye. A contestant with fine dining experience wouldn’t let a teammate help her fry quail eggs for an appetizer. Despite ruining what looked like a dozen eggs or more, this “expert” refused help from a willing associate. Compounding the absurdity, the teammate eager to help was an experienced short-order cook. She made it clear that while she didn’t know haute cuisine, she knew how to fry a doggone egg. That turned out to be the very reason why the first contestant refused the other’s help. Experience as a short order cook was, apparently, laughably pedestrian.

Ramsay recognized the problem and removed the struggling contestant from the appetizer station. Ms. Short-Order stepped in and proceeded to turn out perfect eggs.

We know that experts manifest themselves in many forms. But a larger lesson delivered courtesy of Ramsay (along with a nice knock on elitism) is that expertise itself comes in many forms. Sometimes you’re looking for someone who understands the most complex concepts. Other times, maybe all you need is someone with a straightforward skill.

The connection to communications (and I admit I’m stretching, but it’s fun) is that you should be wary of anyone who suggests only the most elaborate solutions, but has trouble executing fundamentals. Sure, you may want a souffle, but that may not be what you need. Don’t dismiss the merits of someone who suggests steak and eggs.