The innovative Chef, Kunal Kapoor talks of his life and love for anything edible

Once upon a time a black sheep was born into a respectable family. This young sheep, unlike the obedient younglings of the family, did not wish to become a banker; instead he loved food and hoped to do something with it in his career. “Khansama! You want to be a bawarchi or a khansama! But why would you want something so terrible?”—such was the family’s reaction to Kunal Kapoor’s decision to become a chef. Born into a middle-class Punjabi family where everyone was either a proud banker or a part of the information technology bandwagon, being a chef was an anomaly and quite unacceptable. Truth being told, more than hoping to become a chef, what Kapoor really and badly wanted was to avoid being a banker. Numbers gave him nightmares. When someone informed him that “hotel management was a great career option” he just jumped into it. At the same time, he kept his family informed that he just ‘biding his time’ till he found a more respectable alternative. But the young chef enjoyed every minute of his course so much that he forgot about alternatives or the ‘more respectable’ professions. A factor that played in his favour was his parents’ support and the point that Chef Kapoor never really gave a hoot about anyone else. When he informed his mother of his decision (to study hotel management), she told him the most-cliched but universally accepted truth: “No matter what you do, do it with complete honesty and you will do well.” Armed with his mother’s advice and his chef’s hat (of course) Kapoor entered the hot, steamy and busy world of great chefs and grand kitchens. His first stint was at the Taj Group of Hotels. He worked there for four long years—which he rates as his “worst and best” times. He often ended up cursing himself, and his decision, to work in the hotel and for deciding to be a chef. “It was my induction into the rather disciplined and competitive world of corporate kitchens. What I did not know was that chefs were a disciplined, strict and rude lot. And that I would remain disconcerted most of the times,” says Kapoor. It was a time for learning. And his biggest lesson came during a trial for the post of the Corporate Chef which happened before the big daddy himself—the Head Chef. Kapoor had prepared a three-course meal for his top boss (details, he admits, are now a bit hazy). “I can remember making dahi ka shaurma (yogurt soup). That is it!” he says with a chuckle. He prepared the meal carefully. He presented it with aplomb. And he waited for a pat on his back. Instead the Head Chef threw the dish at him missing his face by inches. “I froze then and there. I could see my career as a Chef collapsing right in front of my eyes” he informs. The Head Chef had not tasted his soup. “Truth be told, even if he wanted to taste it, he could not have. I had forgotten to place the spoon next to the bowl and this is what evoked his wrath. My lesson from the incident was that being a chef was not about cooking right. It was also about presenting it right,”—a lesson he abides by. Chef Kapoor loves eating and can hardly stop talking about food. However, one does not simply become a chef because one loves food. One has to love the process of creating dishes just as much. Chef Kapoor grew up showing zero inclination towards cooking. His forays into his home kitchen were limited to occasional Sundays, when the men of his family took up the responsibility of providing the grub. “If my dad cooked the mutton, my grandfather would make a kulfi or kheer,” he reminisces. The men introduced little Kapoor—who would be sitting in one corner—to the amazing spices that rule Indian kitchens. Kapoor admits that he had not made anything, apart from a strong cup of Indian chai (and that counts as it is quite a complicated thing to make), till he was 16 years of age. Today, Kapoor judges cookery shows such as the Master Chef India (a more melodramatic Indian version of Master Chef Australia). His induction into television happened over a morning, when he received a call from a production company on the lookout “for the best chefs in the country”. Kapoor who knew nothing about the show was caught by surprise. At first he thought he was to host the show. Then to his delight, he found that he was to judge the event. After rounds of discussion, Kapoor agreed to face the camera. “Being on television is overwhelming; so many people stare at you. And there are so many cameras. It is scary,” he admits. “In a few weeks though, I was accustomed to it and even began to enjoy the attention,” he admits shyly. Anyone who watches even a bit of telly can tell you that the Indian version of the Australian cookery show became an instant hit. Its participants came from different walks of life and judges included celebrity Chefs such as Vikas Khanna and Kunal Kapoor, along with the country’s most famous khiladi, the Hindi film actor Akshay Kumar. Kapoor was moved by the participants’ tales of passion and grit and how they stuck on despite often pursuing different careers. “It was a great learning curve for me and I could not have asked for more,” he says. There is a hint of naiveté in Kapoor’s child-like enthusiasm for food. He might be a celebrity chef, but he remains the small-town guy rooted in traditions and who still adores his mummy’s cooking. A dish made of karela (bitter gourd) is his favourite. He believes that more than the right ingredients, it is the right attitude which keeps one creative in the kitchen. His current stint—The Leela Kempinski—is one of the most novel kitchens of the country. It would not be far from the truth to credit Kapoor for its reputation, as he is the chef de cuisine at the Leela. Today, he remains busy making state-of-the-art dishes and inspiring people—like the seven-year-old girl at the mall who seriously informed Kapoor that he was “cute” and that she would be a “chef like him” one day.