Bricks to Bhindis, Screwdriver to Spatula
- varunskutty
- 1 day ago
- 7 min read
Over the years in innkeeping, I’ve made an important discovery, one that has proved true across jungles, cities, mountains and islands.The best cooks are often found in construction, repairs and maintenance.
As a junior concierge in Bangalore, I still remember the smell of the most smashing South Indian chicken curry drifting from the AVIS drivers’ bunkers behind The Oberoi. The drivers weren’t allowed to eat in the hotel cafeteria at the time, a policy they weren’t thrilled about, so they set up an ad hoc stove instead. The car-cleaning boys cooked. That curry remains one of the finest I’ve tasted in Bangalore. No menu. No garnish. Just punch.
At Jawai, where I served as Head Ranger, the cafeteria cooks were again not professionals. They handled odd jobs, logistics, repairs, and then fed the entire rangers’ battalion.
Inder Singh ran that kitchen for years. Though management kindly extended guest-kitchen privileges to me, I still preferred carrying a large tiffin of cafeteria food back to the rangers’ barracks. It simply tasted better.
Inder Singh was mother and quartermaster to the Ranger’s Field Team and the rest of the camp. His mutton curry was oily, solidly spiced and full of ghee and mutton fat. Sev tamatar, egg curry, robust village-style dal, full-bodied, no full stops.
Bush parties meant a kadai over an open fire, meat slow-cooked in ghee, Godwar style red chilli spice, baatis on the side. Starters were picked straight from the kadai and washed down with chilled Godfather. Old Monk followed. A splash went into the curry too. That later became my “Mamaji Meat” a dish cooked and served to guests by the camp fire, named after those Himachali uncles who cook at weddings and ensure constant refilling of their own glass.
When I reached Jalakara in the Andamans to take charge as General Manager in 2017 in the midst of a cyclone, on arrival to the hotel at lunch time, Chef Chitrsan, welcomed me and walked up with the restaurant menu and asked what I would like to eat. I asked him what he was eating. “Staff food,” he said. Fish head curry with patol, potato and rice.
That was the beginning of my relationship with the Supari Shack — possibly the best staff cafeteria in the world, tucked inside a betel nut plantation at the back of house.
“Bandhu” Hauli was its first cook. A quiet man from the mangroves of the Sunderbans, he joined as a construction worker. He cooked for labourers in a tin shed alongside another worker, Sam (more on him shortly). Bandhu carries a dao, navigates mangroves effortlessly, stealth mode, handles the hotel butchery and rolls the occasional beedi when required. His signature was the Supari Shack Haddi Curry, a fierce, spicy dish made from chicken trimmings, wings and bones post production of fillets for the guest kitchen. Nothing wasted. Everything respected.
Five years ago, Bandhu laid down the spatula to return to what he loves most, tending the gardens, plantation and estate, and also looking after security. I recently had the pleasure of handing him his Long Service Commendation Letter on completion of over 10 glorious years of service with us.
Then there is Uttam Da, our man Friday and the village’s most enterprising mind. Pools, pumps, plumbing, boilers, carpentry, he handled it all. He began as construction foreman and often fed 50 to 100 labourers a day.
During Durga Puja, he becomes something of a legend, selling nearly 300 plates of chicken biryani with salad, daily from a modest stall. Having lived on Havelock long before tourism arrived, he understands seasonal eating deeply — kaccha aam in dal, pantha bhaat in the heat, knowing which bhaaji belongs to which month, and which fish-head is better before exams.
He once “treated” Chef Chitrasan’s kidney stones with liquid collected overnight from a freshly cut banana palm stem and made him drink it at sunrise. While I recommended Kingfisher as a cure to wash away the stones, the banana stem cocktail did the trick. Chef Chitrasan, Head Chef, binds the staff cafeteria Supari Shack together and ensures that guests and staff both are served exceptional food.
Samaresh (Sam), also originally from the construction team, eventually moved into the main kitchen and learned nearly the entire menu, from three-way papaya curry to fish and chips, tiger prawns and chocolate mousse. He grew to become Jr. Sous Chef. Recently, he took charge of our sea-facing apartments near the harbour. I’ve spent evenings with him discovering local fish preparations and forgotten vegetables.
Port Blair’s Ratnam Market is therapy for me. I never miss an evening there when I’m in town. Incense, flowers, old shops and the finest bhindi I’ve seen, bigger than your hand. Boiled simply with salt, it’s perfect. A digestive balm disguised as a vegetable. There are nalli leaves (morning glory), local brinjals, and the freshest fish on the islands. Sam makes a smashing Bengali-style brinjal bharta, sharp with mustard oil, finished with raw onion and green chilli for crunch. Simple and Direct.
On Sundays, the farmers’ market at Junglighat, with farmers / growers from North, Middle and South Andaman, is a pleasure to walk through. And the best way to start Junglighat is with a hot plate of idli's from the roadside Tamil stall at the main bus stand on Foreshore Road and end the tour with some king coconuts at the farmers market.
In 2021, Hindustan Times covered the story of the fantastic women who cook at the Supari Shack and in the main kitchen, home cooks who once worked as labourers during maintenance.
Jharna is an inspiration to this story. She came when we were having civil work conducted at the hotel during the low season. She once opened her steel tiffin and shared vegetables with me while I ate dal, rice and laal bhaji at the Supari Shack. She was exceptional. I asked her to cook Sunday chicken curry for the staff the next day, and it was a huge hit. Two days later, she quit her daily-wage job and joined Team Jalakara. She cooked for guests and staff alike and became immensely popular.
When she moved back to Calcutta, the baton passed to Bijan Da and Didi — a couple from the Sunderbans who had also come as construction labourers.
Didi’s fish curries are bold, hard-ground masalas, cooked jungle style. She understands pairings beautifully, pumpkin fritters or crisp bhindi, a fresh salad, chutney and a local-style bhaji alongside.
The most special evenings are when Uttam Da, Bandhu and the rest gather with Didi to plan and execute a seasonal Supari Shack dinner.
With fairy lights, plants, a clothes dryer in one corner, chattai walls one side, trees on the other, the Supari Shack has hosted staff parties, family gatherings, daily meals and endless banter. It remains one of the best restaurants I’ve dined in.
At Mizpah, Chef P Baa followed a similar path. Four years ago, he wasn’t a professional cook. He cooked at home for family and friends, worked caretaker jobs here and there, and lived quietly. Today, he cooks some of the most technical dishes on the menu — pot roast chicken, prawns butter garlic, pan-grilled fish, Greek salads and a lovely moilee. Guests dining at Mizpah are usually in the middle of a Rajasthan circuit — palace hotels, marquee luxury properties, and a few iconic restaurants along the way. And yet, almost without fail, they pause to tell us how fresh and unexpectedly brilliant their dinners at Mizpah have been. You cannot rush him. He watches the news while cooking, speaks to his daughters over WhatsApp video, enjoys a nightcap before heading, and on his day off sleeps till afternoon, walks his dog, and then shares a bottle of rum with his work buddies. Balanced life. Balanced food.
And then Jaipur.
During the pre-opening of Niravi, my daughter Aadriti, a fiercely carnivorous child , began happily eating every vegetable cooked by the maintenance supervisor and man Friday, Dhanraj Kahar.
Dhanraj may well be the most fantastic cook in Rajasthan I’ve met. His strength lies in multi-skilling. While cooking laal maans, he can repair a fridge or fix an electrical circuit. Once, in the middle of a heavy service, the boiler broke down. Between overseeing curries and running to the roof to repair it, Dhanraj saved the evening operation that day. Screwdriver in one hand, spatula in the other — a chef who understands urgency and precision.
He makes a superb saag paneer, a dish that can otherwise be mundane, excellent mutton shammi kebabs and his dhoka kebab, a vegetarian version so good you can’t tell the difference. He is also just a call away, whether it’s a cup of tea for a guest, or hot water that has, in his opinion, not yet understood the meaning of hot. What sets him apart is that everything he does comes from the heart. From turning up with country meat from his village as a surprise, to always being the first man standing when I arrive, day or night, ever since the very first time I stepped into Niravi.
Over time, I’ve realised that some of the finest cooks I’ve encountered were never trained for commercial kitchens. They cooked out of necessity, generosity and instinct. They were never taught to monetise food. For them, it isn’t a transaction. It is sustenance. Pride. Care.
We’ve changed our recruitment model because of this. We don’t blindly hire only from IHMs and culinary schools anymore. Our search for kitchen talent begins when the hotel is under construction.
That is usually where the best chefs are found.
Lay bricks at sunrise. Cook bhindis by dusk.
Written 22nd February 2026 by Varun.
Varun Sankaran Kutty, VSK is an innkeeper devoted to innkeeping at distinctive hotels and thoughtful travel experiences across India. An India specialist hotel concierge, he was awarded the Golden Keys (Les Clefs d’Or) in 2016. Varun works with the teams at Jalakara in the South and The Innkeeping Co. in the North, and remains deeply grateful for the privilege of serving as an innkeeper to guests, colleagues, and the local communities that surround his work.
A superbly interesting article written by a talented innkeeper.
Varun, it was a pleasure reading the "innerside of the Innkeeping". Not only that the foods you mentioned take me back to my own food journey into the nooks of the memory lane but also reminds that integration of the real actors of the hospitality providers, from the cleaners to the chauffeurs to the cooks, make the fulcrum in this age old industry journey successful.
Its not top down. Its spectrally agnostic.
Anand