‘Cooking allows for constant learning’: Chef Rahul Akerkar reflects on his career in his new memoir

Being a witness and an important contributor to the changing landscape of Indian fine dining, chef Rahul Akerkar’s memoir Biting Off More Than I Can Chew: A Maverick Chef Remembers is an illuminating read about an evolution that most of us do not have a direct view of.

Long before launching Indigo in 1999, his first European fine dining restaurant in Colaba, his first set of lessons came from his grandmother’s kitchen in Nashik. According to him, the thumb rule of running a restaurant is very simple – consistency. The memoir recounts how he arrived at this lesson and the personal ways in which he has sought to make a mark on the hospitality industry.

In a conversation with Scroll, Akerkar talked about cooking as a hobby and as a profession, the value of feedback, and why the ambience and décor of the restaurant have become central to the dining experience. Excerpts from the conversation:

Fusion cuisines are the trend these days. As someone who has been doing it for decades, what do you make of it?
Fusion isn’t new – it’s just more visible now. Every cuisine, if you look closely, is the result of influences meeting over time. So the idea itself isn’t the problem.

What is overdone is superficial fusion – where elements are combined without understanding why they work, or whether they should be together at all. It becomes more about novelty than about flavour. When fusion is done right, it feels seamless. It doesn’t call attention to itself as “fusion” – it just tastes right. That comes from a deep understanding of ingredients, technique, and context.

Fine dining and luxury dining these days have a lot to do with the décor and ambience of a restaurant. As someone who is considered one of the pioneers of fine dining in India, what change stands out to you – both good and bad?
The biggest shift is that fine dining has become less rigid and more accessible. It’s no longer about formality for its own sake – white tablecloths, hushed rooms, and a certain stiffness. That’s a positive change. Dining today is more relaxed, more inclusive, and often more expressive. At the same time, the meaning of “luxury” has shifted. Earlier, it was defined by detail, consistency, and a certain quiet confidence. Today, while that still holds, it is also often defined visually – by scale, design, and how a space photographs. In many cases, optics have become central to the experience, sometimes at the expense of what’s on the plate. That said, there’s also a parallel movement of chefs and restaurateurs who are redefining luxury through craft, ingredient quality, and thoughtfulness rather than spectacle. That, to me, is where the future lies.

Your love story with food started quite young, but what made you stay in love with it, especially after making it a profession?
When something becomes a profession, the romance of it gets tested. The hours are long, the work is physically and mentally demanding, and the stakes are real.

What keeps you in it is not the initial excitement – it’s the depth of engagement. Cooking allows for constant learning. There’s always something to refine, something to understand better, whether it’s technique, ingredients, or even people.

It also gives you immediate feedback. You cook something, someone eats it, and there’s a response. That loop is very real, very direct. It’s less about passion in the romantic sense and more about commitment to the craft.

Indigo or Qualia – your restaurants have always had an iconic status attached to them. What do you think you did right or differently to earn that?
There wasn’t a single defining factor – it was a combination of things done consistently well. We paid attention to detail across the board: food, service, atmosphere, and pacing. The menus were thought through, they changed frequently, they responded to seasonality, and they weren’t trying to please everyone. Most importantly, there was integrity in execution. The food was consistent, the service was warm without being intrusive, and the teams felt a sense of ownership. What we did wasn’t radically new in a global context – it was about applying those standards with discipline and consistency in a local setting. Over time, that builds trust. And that’s really what people respond to.

Tell us about your family, especially your Aji (grandmother), who plays a very important role in your journey.
Family plays a quiet but foundational role in shaping how you see food. My Aji, in particular, had a strong influence. I was quite young at the time, so I didn’t fully understand what she was cooking or how she was doing it. But what stayed with me – what revealed itself later – was her approach to food.

Her cooking wasn’t elaborate or performative. It was intuitive, grounded, and deeply connected to tradition. There was a sense of care, balance, and correctness in the way she approached ingredients and cooking.

What remains with you from that isn’t specific recipes – it’s a way of thinking.

What’s next in the pipeline for you?
Right now, a significant part of my work is with the Aditya Birla Group, where we’re building restaurant concepts together. We’ve already developed brands like Ode, Waarsa, and Flint, and the focus now is on growing them thoughtfully – taking them to other cities while maintaining the integrity of what they are. That’s really the challenge: scale without dilution. Beyond that, I’m interested in continuing to engage with food in ways that feel relevant – whether that’s through new concepts, collaborations, or exploring more locally rooted ideas.