Steam spirit

They call it Hell's Kitchen because it gets frenetic when the traffic strolls in on Sunday afternoons. Janaki Viswanathan did the graveyard shift with chefs at the Lotus Cafe the night before, to see what goes into the making of one of the busiest brunch spreads in the city

They call it Hell's Kitchen because it gets frenetic when the traffic strolls in on Sunday afternoons. Janaki Viswanathan did the graveyard shift with chefs at the Lotus Cafe the night before, to see what goes into the making of one of the busiest brunch spreads in the city

It's a lazy Sunday afternoon and the cold blast of air-conditioning at the Lotus Cafe is welcoming. Few patrons look curiously at me. A kid even laughs. Oops, forgot to take off my chef's hat. It has taken two Sundays and one Saturday midnight trip to J W Marriott to figure out how one of the city's biggest Sunday spreads (at Lotus Cafe) gets made and now I get to keep the hat.u00a0

First Sunday, 11 am
Lotus Cafe's sous chef Shishir More walks me through the brown doors of the kitchen with a flourish. And promptly leads me out again. I've just flouted the most basic rules of the kitchen: 'no-hair'. Minutes later, we're back in, me feeling a little foolish in a tall chef's cap.

It's a clinging-clanging metal world in here. Add to that 10 men of all shapes and sizes in white bustling around. But what's most striking is what the kitchen isn't: a claustrophobic cell full of hot ovens, sweat and soot blackened faces (went a little overboard there. It is a five-star after all). No, there are cheerful yellow-blue tiles on the wall, a non-slippery matted floor and a packed bulletin board. The smells are many: curry, fish, cheese, bell peppers and coriander. The only sounds are the quiet hum of the refrigerators, the ladles as they stir mammoth pans furiously, and faint chattering.

Say cheese
"No profanities, gentlemen," commands Chef More nodding at me. Ten embarrassed smiles. Am I such a rare species in here? "No, no, we do have female trainees. But they're always scared to come here because this is called Hell's Kitchen," says the chef almost with a tinge of pride. Crockery interruption. A man wheels in a trolley full of spotless white bowls and plates. He loads it all on the connecting slab where a server hauls them off to tables. In a corner, a trainee grates a big block of cheese. He umm... does this almost all of today.

Suddenly, the rubber mats are picked up and tossed to a corner. Water is splashed on the floor for the routine two-hour mop. Work doesn't stop. The colony of white caps still moves around, skipping effortlessly over the water-splattered floor. I'm herded outside to the cafe. It's 11.30 am.

The breakfast buffet has wrapped up. In the distance, the sea slides in and out lazily. The chefs and servers start to take apart the different counters. A tall glass vase with yellow flowers finds it way to the dessert counter. Nope, not working. It's moved to the bread and rosti counter. Chef More frowns. It returns to the dessert counter. "Guests eat with their eyes first. And we have several loyal customers... I can't afford to repeat decorations," he explains. A little guy is a flurry in pink as he wheels in crushed ice and starts piling it on the various fish and cold cut counters. In another corner, dozens of plates of mousse, brownies, and other sins are loaded on the dessert counters.



Amidst all the action, Chef More takes me through the brunch prep. The menu comes in on Friday. The brunch that lasts from 12.30 to 4 pm has nearly 10 counters the items for which come from kitchens all over the Marriott: the Spices kitchen, the banquet kitchen, the bakery and the garde manger (cold storage). The Lotus kitchen, which specialises in a la carte and in-house guest orders, prepares the marinades for the meats and some curries as well.

Suddenly the chef booms, "More crab shells!" A junior chef climbs on a table and starts sticking crab shells on a fishing net at the seafood counter. Big utensils filled to the brim with red yellow and green peppers, lemons, tomatoes and zucchini are brought in. "We use nearly 15 kg of bell peppers, 20-25 kg tomatoes, and 5 kg zucchini for displays. After the brunch, they're sent back to the kitchens," says chef More. As he studies the effect, a potential customer on the first floor looks at the cafe below, a blissful smile on her face, as if she were picking what she wants to eat. The chef gives me an I-told-you-so smile. Eat with eyes first. Right.

It's 12.20 pm. "Patil to chaat! Clean up this spot! Lights!" bellows Chef More as guests begin to trickle in. As the cooks and servers jump to obey, I slip back into the kitchen where I'm shooed into a corner by junior sous chef Sangram. "Don't want any accidents," he says cryptically, reminding me of Rambo. He's exceedingly gentle with the dishes though. In the corner, the trainee is still grating cheese.u00a0



Saturday night, a week later
11.30 pm Saturday night. Pre-preparations time: While the rest of the Marriott is a mish-mash of party animals and full volume, the underbelly of the hotel is busy as Hell. Chef More, sunny as ever, greets me. The trainee's in the kitchen too, thankfully, no cheese in sight. "I've moved his shift," explains More. The Lotus kitchen doors open out to a restricted passage. The walls are stark, the floor swallows all sounds. We turn a corner and there's suddenly a huge frame on the wall full of hand imprints. "We have a week-long fun time every year. This was last year's activity. All of us chefs at the Marriott left our palm impressions," he explains.

The passage leads us first to the garde manger. Think cheese, fruit and meat. Odd combination but oddly appealing too. Cheese is being cut, cold cuts are being unwrapped and one chef is chopping pineapple to impossibly small bits. "Salsa for tomorrow," he explains. The shelves are full of plastic-sealed containers of various cheeses, sauces and dips, all for the Sunday brunch. There's a door beyond where chef takes us. It's a walk-in cold storage and boy, is it cold. The temperature: 8 degrees tops. A dementor's lair, no doubt.

STEAM SPIRIT

None of the chefs inside seem to mind as they slice pork and seal salads. It's all steel and ice here.

We move out and beyond. The smells of butter, wheat, batter, sugar and some more butter are upon us. The bakery. The floor has a thin sheen of flour, butter paper crackles and breads rise slowly in the industrial-sized ovens. Delicious. One of the chefs methodically rolls out dough for a baguette, weighs it and cuts it. Over and over. In an inner enclosure, another chef cranks open an oven and checks if dinner rolls are done. And they are. "Desserts get set in the morning from 8 to 11.30 am. Night is when we make the savoury breads," explains Chef More. Just then a fresh-faced chef with spectacles walks past, an evil cold knife in his hand. Time to get out.

Next stop: the banquet kitchen. If the bakery was warm and toasty, it's practically tropical here. Add to that the cooking smells of onions and tomatoes. A chef painstakingly stirs a huge square cauldron-like vessel and demonstrates how he can empty it out without tipping it but using a crank. "To protect our backs," says More with a smile. The curry will be used for most of the Indian grills the next day.

It's 12.30 am and we're back at Lotus' kitchen. Potatoes are boiling by the hundreds on a pan while chicken is being marinated in another. This weekend, appams are the special attraction, the batter for which was set in the morning, so it could ferment. One of the pans has a deep green gravy. "Goes great with crabs. You'll see tomorrow," grins Chef. 1 am.

Wrap up for tonight.

Second Sunday
It's pandemonium again as the counters get set up, only today, the scene outside has changed. The rain gods are on full blast. The scene inside has changed toou2026 it's a new bunch of chefs here today. "Shift changes," explains More, adding that he was here till 2 am the previous night. I don't have his enthusiasm and sink at the nearest possible couch. He comes every now and then with updates from the kitchen and beyond: "Behind you are the owners of a very popular city restaurant. To your right are the owners of a huge workout gym." A server contributes too: "At the very fag end, there are two matchmaking families. They've been here since morning."

I feel as if I've earned my brunch though I haven't cooked any of it. "Do you still think it's Hell's Kitchen?" asks chef More. Hell, no!