He had to figure out a way to work with them, earn their respect, and supervise them, and also learn from them since they were senior in experience. He had an entire kitchen team working under him, most of whom were older than him. No matter the situation, he’s faced them head on.Īnother incident that comes to mind is his time in Varanasi where he was made the head chef at Ashok Hotel at the young age of 21. The rest is history!īut if you ask him if he faced any challenges or hardships to get to where he is now, he will say there are never any challenges, only learnings. They stayed at a friend’s house and took each day as it came. My mom and he barely had any money and no house either-all this with one-year-old me tagging along. Perhaps some of these differences in what we like has to do with my parents’ and my life experiences.īefore my dad earned his merits, he had quit his well-paying job at Centaur hotel in Mumbai to do something on his own. Now these home foods I relish, but they are made once in a while. Though I have to admit that certain home foods evoke nostalgia-my Dadi’s rajma-chawal, Nani’s muthiya, mom’s dosa, or dad’s mutton biryani. (We tried making it at home, but it wasn’t the same.) My dad just watched us in disbelief! Was it the way it was made, or the vibe of the place? Whatever it was, that was the first and only time we enjoyed malai toast. Kriti and I enjoyed the malai toast there so much that we took second servings. My dad always raved about it, whereas Kriti and I run in the other direction when we hear ‘ malai’! But then, a few years ago, during a visit to Varanasi, we went to the popular Lakshmi Chai Wala. (My dad says, that’s because food served at restaurants usually contains additional flavouring, oil, butter and sugar to ensure that the dish stands out.)Īnd it’s not just fancy continental food that tastes better outside. Even home-made pizza, burger, chop suey, don’t evoke the same feeling that you get when you order them in a restaurant. It brings to mind dal, rice, roti, sabzi. Now, even after working alongside my father, I still at times succumb to the perception that home food can be boring. My sister and I were designated “sous chefs” and would serve, and of course, sneak in bites-of biryani fit for a nawab, chicken dumplings, and scrumptious desserts. While the big pots were bubbling away, my dad would be at the open kitchen counter, making pasta or stir-fries to order for our guests. The aroma would move the party from the hall to the kitchen. If you’ve watched my dad on television, nothing compares to watching the magic live and up close. Like in every other home, they were a welcome change from the routine. (And no, Sanjeev Kapoor didn’t make my lunch every day!)Īs kids, my sister Kriti and I used to look forward to social gatherings at home. When I was in school, I used to take my lunch dabba from home very rarely would I get permission to eat in the canteen.
For my friends and I, cooking feels like a chore. My father’s influence has undoubtedly fostered a never-ending zeal to experience new things-and food is at the top of that list.īut does this love for food mean a love for the kitchen? I guess not-until recently.īecause ‘kitchen’ has always meant ordinary, everyday food-yes, even in the home of a celebrity chef. As a child, I’d obediently finish my meals-even ghar ka khana (home food)-and diligently query my father every time a new flavour profile popped up in a meal. That shouldn’t be a surprise given that master chef Sanjeev Kapoor is my father.
Food and I have a deep and loving relationship.
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