Every year, the list of those we know being awarded swells, so I suspect my wife's attempt to read the fine print comes from notching up the well-known and famous. Some might name drop, "I met Ranbir Kapoor", but my wife likes to say, "We have 23 friends who've got the Padma, seven who've received the Legion d'honneur, and three who've returned their Sahitya Akademi awards." Beat that as a conversation stopper - or starter.
Since my wife cares so much about reading aloud the names of the awardees we know, however faintly, I almost missed Imtiaz Qureshi's announcement in this year's honours list. For those who know their molecular gastronomy and Michelin stars, Qureshi's name might not ring immediate bells, but if you're of a certain generation, he remains India's first celebrity chef. True, he was propped up by ITC as its culinary face; true, too, that he didn't study in fancy Les Roches or Lausanne; but if there is anything Qureshi knew, it was his cuts and ingredients with which he created gastronomic magic, first at Bukhara, then for Dum Pukht - still among the chain's finest Indian restaurants and standard bearers for the industry in which brands undergo change constantly.
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Long before food writers appeared on the horizon and created a clique, Qureshi would ask us over to the restaurants - and, even better, to the informal executive dining room - for a meal he'd prepared himself, or at least mostly under his supervision. He liked his tipple, he wasn't politically correct in his speech, he sometimes shared outrageous gossip, but one thing was never in doubt - you rarely left his table without bursting at the seams. There was chaap and kakori, you had to try the biryani, resisting his kormas was blasphemous, and his mahi qaliya was a signature intervention.
The Qureshi legend became so entrenched that hotels and restaurants found themselves hiring extended members of the clan - and if there is a First Dynasty of Chefs in India, it is, without doubt, the Qureshi khandaan - and a subject worthy of a book, if not a film, now that food has become so mainstream, people consume it as voraciously as porn.
Qureshi is no longer active, having served his time and settled uncomfortably into his role as consultant - old age and cantankerous ill health keeping him away from his woks and pans. The acknowledgement brings him on a par with sportspersons, writers, filmmakers - all of whom he's probably fed - and legitimises his position in a class-conscious society. I haven't eaten at his restaurants in a while, the family preferring smarter options and cuisines, but when a main course comes as a tiny serving with a few grains of quinoa, arugula and avocado, I can't help thinking of the huge servings I've been fortunate to share with a man with big hands and an even bigger heart.