Why this cookbook about chicks and chickpeas is worth a read

I have never met chef Mandaar Sukhtankar, but I feel like I know him. From his debut book Romancing the Chicks, a collection of columns he has been writing for various publications as well as pieces written specifically for the book, Sukhtankar seems like a man you would not hazard taking too seriously. Words and vegetables all seem like a game to him and he seems to be winning most of the time.

The Executive Chef at The Park, Hyderabad has a casual, conversational style. He dedicates about a page or two to anecdotes or fables set around an ingredient (from battle-ready pomegranates to hot green chickpeas) and follows it up with simple but enticing recipes.

While explaining tricks and techniques such as picking the right wine or making the right pasta, he also reveals humbling tales of how he made these discoveries. And so, through his stories, we meet the people who inspired him; including Franco and his Italian family, from whom he leant the “wine-ing formula” for wine appreciation.

Sukhtankar’s advice is interesting: “For a start, a glass a day should keep you in the sway!”

His piece on crabs takes readers from his grandmother’s kitchen, to a Chaplinesque moment on a train compartment and then to the chaos of a fish market.

With his ode to jamuns we join him on a summer holiday in Europe where he learns the German word for yes (ja), and then jump on to talk of Paithani saris and heavy metal bands. Does it always make sense? Not quite.

But it’s certainly not a dry book loaded with culinary and nutritional jargon. Besides, he has a way of simplifying food. And his stories are almost always supplemented with delightful recipes; inspiring enough to plan a meal around, whether it’s a Jamun Panna Cotta, a Farfalle with Walnut Sauce or a Baked Yoghurt.

My favourite piece of trivia is from "The Alfredo Conundrum" and the truly “authentic” recipe Pasta Alfredo that follows. “In most places you would get a pasta masquerading in the ubiquitous ‘white sauce’ or slathered with cream and reeking of garlic,” he writes. The real deal, immortalised by Alfredo di Lelio of Rome, has nothing but fettuccine, butter and Pecorino or Parmesan cheese.

The title of the book gives away his irreverent style. I’m not sure I have a taste for all of his jokes with their sometimes sexist leanings (why must we discuss how hot Cameran Diaz was in a sexy red dress in a book about food?), but the recipes are certainly exciting.