FROM
PROFESSION TO FOOD ENTREPRENEUR
Successful
professionals let down by the corporate rat race are finding salvation in
cooking for a living. And risk-taking is the one decisive ingredient in making
any food entrepreneurship a lip-smacking hit.
WHAT
is it about a kitchen that’s turning it into a refuge for successful but
disillusioned professionals? Why is slugging it out before a warm fire on their
only day off being hailed the best stress buster?
New Delhi-girl Ruchira Hoon-Philip can’t quite explain it, but admits that the lure of cooking convinced her to quit an eightyear-long career in journalism. “Researching recipes, planning menus for restaurants, even sourcing modest ingredients leaves me content,” says the food blogger and consultant.
If French national Lucie Masson, who’s been living in India for eight months, heard that, she’d break into a knowing, dimpled smile. Masson, an investment executive, says she was able to escape the “fake” world of corporate challenges when she landed an opportunity to run the Siolim Cooking School in Goa.
The reason, says Rahul Akerkar, managing director of de-Gustibus Hospitality and one of India’s most popular restaurateurs, is simple: “It’s because everyone can taste.” The man behind the Indigo chain of restaurants is a qualified biochemical engineer who walked the same path years ago. “Times have changed. There’s plenty of respect for the profession. People have realised that chefs are craftsmen, not bawarchis,” he says.
The real game changer, says celebrity chef Vikas Khanna, is access to avenues that make it a lucrative choice. “What’s unfolding is a highly evolved food game. We have dedicated food TV channels, food bloggers are gathering supporters and it’s now mandatory for every print platform to cover eating out. No matter how many people get into it, the bubble is unlikely to burst.” For Khanna, food is entertainment. “Like music. It’ll never go out of fashion.”
New Delhi-girl Ruchira Hoon-Philip can’t quite explain it, but admits that the lure of cooking convinced her to quit an eightyear-long career in journalism. “Researching recipes, planning menus for restaurants, even sourcing modest ingredients leaves me content,” says the food blogger and consultant.
If French national Lucie Masson, who’s been living in India for eight months, heard that, she’d break into a knowing, dimpled smile. Masson, an investment executive, says she was able to escape the “fake” world of corporate challenges when she landed an opportunity to run the Siolim Cooking School in Goa.
The reason, says Rahul Akerkar, managing director of de-Gustibus Hospitality and one of India’s most popular restaurateurs, is simple: “It’s because everyone can taste.” The man behind the Indigo chain of restaurants is a qualified biochemical engineer who walked the same path years ago. “Times have changed. There’s plenty of respect for the profession. People have realised that chefs are craftsmen, not bawarchis,” he says.
The real game changer, says celebrity chef Vikas Khanna, is access to avenues that make it a lucrative choice. “What’s unfolding is a highly evolved food game. We have dedicated food TV channels, food bloggers are gathering supporters and it’s now mandatory for every print platform to cover eating out. No matter how many people get into it, the bubble is unlikely to burst.” For Khanna, food is entertainment. “Like music. It’ll never go out of fashion.”
Lucie Masson, 27, Goa Was: banker }
Is: cooking instructor
In the kitchen of Siolim House, a 100-year-old Portuguese home converted into a boutique hotel in North Goa, Lucie Masson teaches excited travellers the art of making a mean Fish Caldinha just the way a Mrs Elena Braganza would in her Chandor neighbourhood kitchen. An early morning trip to the Tar fish market is a lesson in negotiating the price of red snapper and palu. Batches of two to four students are tutored in an open plan kitchen overlooking an aquamarine pool. They come away having learnt a fish, prawn, chicken and vegetable dish, with tips on grinding chutneys thrown in. Each lesson costs 2,500.
Until eight months ago, Masson was in Zurich, Switzerland, working as an investor relation manager before she took up an advertising job with a Mumbai agency. Disenchanted, she gave it up, and followed her Indian boyfriend to Goa, where he owned the heritage hotel, to start something of her own. “I ended up being the one who’d answer queries that international guests had about our menu, especially the Indian fare. And then came requests to learn local recipes,” she says.
In May, Masson launched the Siolim Cooking School, setting aside her initial plan to set up a restaurant. “Teaching is more fun!” After attending a permaculture workshop in Thailand this March, Masson’s next plan is to try her hand at organic farming, and introduce students to the goodness of raw foodism. “The trend has its roots in America, and is gaining ground for its belief that cooking kills 80 per cent enzymes in food,” says Masson.
LUCIE’S TIP: Secure your savings. I saved for three years, so that I could have something to survive on till my project picked up. The food business has high overheads. Expect to meet uncalled for expenses.
In the kitchen of Siolim House, a 100-year-old Portuguese home converted into a boutique hotel in North Goa, Lucie Masson teaches excited travellers the art of making a mean Fish Caldinha just the way a Mrs Elena Braganza would in her Chandor neighbourhood kitchen. An early morning trip to the Tar fish market is a lesson in negotiating the price of red snapper and palu. Batches of two to four students are tutored in an open plan kitchen overlooking an aquamarine pool. They come away having learnt a fish, prawn, chicken and vegetable dish, with tips on grinding chutneys thrown in. Each lesson costs 2,500.
Until eight months ago, Masson was in Zurich, Switzerland, working as an investor relation manager before she took up an advertising job with a Mumbai agency. Disenchanted, she gave it up, and followed her Indian boyfriend to Goa, where he owned the heritage hotel, to start something of her own. “I ended up being the one who’d answer queries that international guests had about our menu, especially the Indian fare. And then came requests to learn local recipes,” she says.
In May, Masson launched the Siolim Cooking School, setting aside her initial plan to set up a restaurant. “Teaching is more fun!” After attending a permaculture workshop in Thailand this March, Masson’s next plan is to try her hand at organic farming, and introduce students to the goodness of raw foodism. “The trend has its roots in America, and is gaining ground for its belief that cooking kills 80 per cent enzymes in food,” says Masson.
LUCIE’S TIP: Secure your savings. I saved for three years, so that I could have something to survive on till my project picked up. The food business has high overheads. Expect to meet uncalled for expenses.
Ruchira Hoon-Philip, 32, Delhi
Was: journalist } Is: food consultant
Ruchira Hoon-Philip’s friends have
played a crucial role in moulding her career. The journalist with a national
daily was convinced by buddies to sign up for Masterchef India Season 2, after they
realised any dish she whipped up tasted incredible. Last September, when she
returned from the three-month boot camp where she was among the final 28, she
knew she had to devote more time to her lab (that’s what she calls her
kitchen). This February, she accepted another pal’s idea, and took to blogging
(thegreatcookaroo.blogspot.com).
Ever since, she has had her hands full, handling catering orders and developing
a menu for a to-belaunched Mexican restaurant in the capital. “Next up is
recipe research, training chefs and getting the tastes in order for a music
café.” For every innovative appetiser Hoon-Philip creates, she is paid 2,500.
Planning a meal gets her between 5,000 and 7,000. But it’s designing quaint
desserts that has turned out to be the most lucrative. She charges between
7,000 and 10,000 for each recipe. And when she gets a breather, she goes back
to being the “agony aunt of baking”, dishing out critical advice on her blog.
RUCHIRA’S ROAD MAP
Some day, I want to run a home-style café that serves large portions of home-style American food, and big pots of coffee on the house. But until four months ago, I had no idea where I was going, so, it’s a lot about trial and error. Blogging helps because you can exchange views, advice, and network. I’d say you’ve got to be less afraid, take risks and analyse your potential.
RUCHIRA’S ROAD MAP
Some day, I want to run a home-style café that serves large portions of home-style American food, and big pots of coffee on the house. But until four months ago, I had no idea where I was going, so, it’s a lot about trial and error. Blogging helps because you can exchange views, advice, and network. I’d say you’ve got to be less afraid, take risks and analyse your potential.
Shekhar Ghildiyal, 41, Mumbai
Was: animator } Is: food studio
owner
The decision to give up a 13-year-long career in animation unfolded on a regular day while Shekhar Ghildiyal and his food consultant wife, Rushina, were cooking at their Powai home. He was baking bread while she made pepper mushrooms, fig salad and pasta. “We kept tasting each other’s cooking, and congratulated ourselves on how well it had turned out. Shekhar turned to me and said, ‘We make beautiful things together’,” she remembers. But the food bug bit him way back in 2005 when the couple brought home an oven. “I started with croissants, and they turned out terrible. But when I gave pita bread a shot, it was good; that gave me a shot of confidence,” says Ghildiyal. Experiments with the oven grew frequent two years ago when he was following MasterChef Australia 2. “He began with cakes and cookies, and then took to all kinds of bread. Most days, he wakes up earlier than all of us to bake bread or muffins,” says Rushina. The culmination of these early morning experiments comes in the guise of the APB (A Perfect Bite) Cook Studio. Essentially a “dream kitchen” where Mumbai’s food enthusiasts can drop by for Cookalongs, working at a line-up of gas stations with experts to stir up a feast for a party with pals, it will also offer classes with trained chefs priced between 1,500 and 6,000. Calorie watchers can sign up at the Food Gym, learning to stir up healthy recipes. “We’d like to hold corporate training sessions that challenge participants to make the best possible dish from five given ingredients. It’s an exercise in extracting the most from a team’s potential,” says Ghildiyal, about the first-of-its-kind project that’s set for an August launch. Sign up for a membership to enjoy privileges including access to the Lust Pantry, a section stocked with tough-to-find ingredients that sous chefs can’t do without.
SHEKHAR’S CONFESSION
We have pooled in everything we had to create this state-of-the-art ‘home kitchen’. This is it. Our savings are wiped out; we’ve borrowed from family and friends. But if you don’t take a leap of faith, how do you realise a dream?
The decision to give up a 13-year-long career in animation unfolded on a regular day while Shekhar Ghildiyal and his food consultant wife, Rushina, were cooking at their Powai home. He was baking bread while she made pepper mushrooms, fig salad and pasta. “We kept tasting each other’s cooking, and congratulated ourselves on how well it had turned out. Shekhar turned to me and said, ‘We make beautiful things together’,” she remembers. But the food bug bit him way back in 2005 when the couple brought home an oven. “I started with croissants, and they turned out terrible. But when I gave pita bread a shot, it was good; that gave me a shot of confidence,” says Ghildiyal. Experiments with the oven grew frequent two years ago when he was following MasterChef Australia 2. “He began with cakes and cookies, and then took to all kinds of bread. Most days, he wakes up earlier than all of us to bake bread or muffins,” says Rushina. The culmination of these early morning experiments comes in the guise of the APB (A Perfect Bite) Cook Studio. Essentially a “dream kitchen” where Mumbai’s food enthusiasts can drop by for Cookalongs, working at a line-up of gas stations with experts to stir up a feast for a party with pals, it will also offer classes with trained chefs priced between 1,500 and 6,000. Calorie watchers can sign up at the Food Gym, learning to stir up healthy recipes. “We’d like to hold corporate training sessions that challenge participants to make the best possible dish from five given ingredients. It’s an exercise in extracting the most from a team’s potential,” says Ghildiyal, about the first-of-its-kind project that’s set for an August launch. Sign up for a membership to enjoy privileges including access to the Lust Pantry, a section stocked with tough-to-find ingredients that sous chefs can’t do without.
SHEKHAR’S CONFESSION
We have pooled in everything we had to create this state-of-the-art ‘home kitchen’. This is it. Our savings are wiped out; we’ve borrowed from family and friends. But if you don’t take a leap of faith, how do you realise a dream?
Saadia
S Dhailey TL120722
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