The real master chefs

A chef is the controlling hand behind most of our lives’ special occasions. Food is the epicentre of celebration, spinning on their expertise and efficiency in the kitchen — a late or over spiced meal can ruin the most celebratory dinner, the perfect wedding buffet marks the foundation for the extended family’s benevolent blessings, or a simple dal and roti bring back sharp memories of home and childhood.

Contrasting their culinary creations with their infantry-like training is a jolt to the perception of the chef as a jolly artist. On his first day at work, Nirmal Monteiro was exhausted and in pain, after standing and working all day in a hot and busy kitchen. He remembers his head chef who would send him trotting to the pantry every time he had to mix his secret spices. It took Monteiro two hours to manually grind garam masala with a hamam dasta, after which the head chef would carry the spices home at night to keep them safe.

This day was followed by ten years of such days; working seven days a week, 365 days a year for other people’s weddings and birthdays. Monteiro travelled from Andheri to Cuffe Parade everyday, his day starting at 10am and ending around 2am. It was the best of years; it was the worst of years. Thirty years later, now the executive chef for multiple eateries around the city, Monteiro talks fondly of those gruelling years, calling them the best of his long and illustrious career, saying, “The pure enjoyment of cooking, how relaxing and invigorating it is — can’t be described.”

Celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain, much adored by the public and scoffed at by most of the haute cuisine establishment, says in his book — “We’re unlovable. That’s why we’re chefs. We’re basically bad people…proudly dysfunctional. Which is why we lived the way we did, this half-life of work followed by hanging out with others who lived the same life…we are misfits, and this is all we know how to do.” The chef works rapidly, efficiently and silently, usually only called out on the rare occasion when his food misses its mark. They work a minimum of twelve hours a day in difficult conditions — it’s surprising that so many of us now aspire to be one of them. With a surfeit of cooking shows as well as the anticipated launch of two food channels — one inexplicably named Food Food — everyone’s suddenly a chef.

But what qualities maketh the Master Chef? “You can’t be a master ‘chef’ by appearing on television, no matter what Akshay Kumar says,” apprentice chef Dilip Mansingh says bluntly. Mansingh admits though, there are certain recipes you should have perfected before calling yourself a chef — “Making the perfect dal. Making a well-cooked steak is important. Know how to improvise and change your recipe according to requirements.” Chef Joy Bhattacharya, executive chef at the Trident, says that what you see on television is the “outer shell” of a chef’s life, though it provides a “terrific platform” for the joys of cooking.

Chef Paul Kinny, executive chef, Intercontinental, Marine Drive confirms Bourdain’s foreboding about the ‘unlovable’ chefs — “Chefs are very, very temperamental. It’s a hot and uncomfortable environment and very high-pressure. There is no scope to make a mistake. And besides, they’re very creative people. You can’t tell an artist what to do without expecting some fireworks.”

At the back of the kitchen, everything is always an emergency. “People are screaming and shouting, and getting hurt. If you think you’re going to wear a nice hat and stand in the corner, please think twice about turning your hobby into a profession.” But chef Kinny says he wouldn’t give it up for the world, having returned to the kitchen after a stint on the corporate side. “I always tell my friends, if I wasn’t a chef, I would be a dead chef,” he laughs. “The high of a busy kitchen is different from any other experience.”

“Patience is not a virtue in this field,” says chef Ananda Solomon, the executive chef at the Taj President. “There is no time to think. If you miss the train someone else will get there before you.” Solomon talks briskly about building a “brand”, understanding its value, its audience and their expectations.  “I’m aware that what I make isn’t the Eiffel Tower,” he says. “It has a short life, and will disappear in a couple of minutes. It will be eaten, enjoyed, and then it is history and I start again. What chefs make are ultimately memories.”