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Away from the herd
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Sheila Appa and Anand Chettur have gone all over the world following their enormous interest in food and cuisines
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PHOTO: MURALI KUMAR K.
SAME TASTES Sheila Appa made Anand Chettur an offer he could not refuse and a catering business was born
Joining hands with an ex-colleague from 28 years ago can make you believe that the hands of the clock have never moved. Time does seem to have stood still for Sheila Appa and Anand Chettur who were teenagers when they last worked side by side. Linked by a common passion for cooking and for "food as an art form", they started a catering business called The Rogue Elephant in March this year. As the name indicates, they wish to remain "away from the herd". One soon discovers that the name fits the chefs just as well as it does the food they serve. These partners are verily a couple of rogues when it comes to the paths they have chosen and the humour with which they lace their memories.
Sit with them on a wet afternoon and the funny stories come pouring out like the pelting rain. If you're lucky (as I was) you'll get a live action replay. Of the nerve-wracking incident of the Lettuce that Walked in the Vidhana Soudha Banquet Hall, the shock and awe caused by the Flaming Hand (of the waiter who brought in the Baked Alaska), and the cook who kidnapped the bread pudding before it could turn into a nasty surprise.
All these memories date back to the West End hotel which, in '78, had just been taken over from Spencer's by the Taj group. "I found that college wasn't engaging me," says Sheila who, as soon as she finished P.U., worked in the hotel for three years as a management trainee. She struck a deal with her parents: work 7 a.m. to 3 p.m., college 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. The only woman in Food and Banqueting, she was restaurant hostess and pastry shop manager. However, she was itching to enter the kitchen. Hotel cooks were notoriously territorial, and chauvinistic to boot, but she was persistent and got them to teach her the tricks of the trade.
Anand finished his O-levels in Africa, where his parents lived, and was sent to Kodaikanal International School. He came out of school in a colourful fashion rather than with flying colours and barged into West End to do "slave labour" from morn to night. When he discovered that Sheila was earning Rs. 300 a month he coaxed the hotel to at least pay him for transport, and was given Rs. 120. After a year he persuaded his parents to send him to the U.K. for a four-year Hotel Catering and Institutional Management Association diploma course. He wasn't strictly legit when he stayed on after the course to work in the industry. His last U.K. job was a three-year stint at Langan's Brasserie. Then in '88 he got a phone call. It was to be a turning point.
For Sheila, too, 1988 was a crucial year. That was when she returned from West Asia as a single mom with two kids; she had gone there after her marriage in '82. In Bangalore she took up a sales and marketing job in a German MNC for over 11 years. Her girls were growing and she needed to spend more time with them, so she quit. For four years she ran a flourishing catering business out of her home kitchen.
The call that Anand got in '88 was from a friend who worked in a beach resort in the Caribbean. He was quitting and the resort needed someone to fill his shoes. Anand worked for a year at the resort, was a cook on a private boat, did a season in the Mediterranean, and went island-hopping from one British Overseas Territory to the next. In '95 he heard rumours that the "Indian Tiger" was about to roar and, nursing visions of a booming hotel industry, joined The Oberoi in Hyderabad. Four years later the tiger had emitted not even a mew, so back he went to the Cayman Islands in '99.
Anand would have chosen sun, sea and sand for the rest of his days if Nature hadn't willed otherwise. At around 1.30 a.m. on September 12, 2004 he awoke to find the roof of his bungalow missing. Hurricane Ivan had struck. He pulled on jeans and a red windcheater, grabbed his passport, and ran. He managed to establish contact with his mother, who got him an air ticket. He landed in Bangalore "looking like the Ancient Mariner", in her words, possessing nothing but the clothes he wore.
It was at this point that Sheila made him an offer he could not refuse. For a year they worked out of her kitchen and then Anand's aunt offered them her outhouse. While they were remodelling it into a kitchen, Anand bumped into another familiar face from the past: Shaik Nasiruddin, the rajah of tandoor.
Nasir, who cut his teeth on the Great Eastern Hotel in Kolkata, moved to Bangalore in '72. He worked at West End and Windsor Manor for nine years each, honing his tandoor skills to perfection. When Anand met him in '05 he had just returned from a 15-year stretch in Japan at the Nippon Restaurant System, Tokyo, and Samanara restaurant, Chiba.
On March 17 this year, two buddies and their old mate opened shop and waited for the phone to ring. It's been ringing ever since. The rogue is on his way and the herd can barely keep up.
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Just like home
When U.K. businessman John Gordon, who orders from The Rogue Elephant "at least once or twice a week", starts missing his food back home, he asks for Anand's rack of baby lamb chops. "Hey, the guy can cook!" he exclaims.
Consultant Subramaniam Sundara Raman's poetic way of describing Nasir's kababs is "frontier heaven in my backyard." He says he has eaten kababs all over the world and Nasir's are "pure magic".
There are those who eagerly wait for Sheila's weekend surprises. On Saturdays and Sundays she likes to turn out something special: it could be chicken vindaloo one week and railway lamb curry the next.
Vinod Nair, who runs his own company, eats out often and is therefore able to make a comparison with the food he orders here. "The quality is definitely high," he says. "I'm very, very happy with it."
The limited but interestingly designed menu is tuned to each chef's specialty. Anand handles the overseas-style section, Nasir the tandoor, and Sheila the coal-fire slow-cooked curries, rice dishes, sweets, salads and sides.
The partners themselves do the daily shopping. Atta for the rotis is from wheat grain bought and milled. Their focus is on healthy food with low fat and no additives. You can be sure of squeaky-fresh vegetables in the stir-fry, and a bill that won't give you nightmares.
The Rogue Elephant, 124/B, Varthur Road (off Old Madras Road), Nagavarapalya, takes orders Tuesday to Friday, 6.30 p.m. to 10.30 p.m., Saturday and Sunday, 12.30 p.m. to 3 p.m. and 6.30 p.m. to10.30 p.m. (Monday holiday) Delivery free in three-km radius. Personalised planning and catering for parties and corporate dos. Phone: 25340657 or 98456-64681
C.K. MEENA
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