When Rishi Kapoor sent the great Gordon Ramsay packing!

I regret not having interviewed Rishi Kapoor. Or got to know him a little better. But I recall two things about the experienced actor. They are more amusing than affectionate. And both have to do with cuisine and dining at Mumbai’s Taj Mahal Hotel.

Rishi loved to eat. He was, in fact, a gourmet. He understood his cuisine, he had a refined taste, and he was not afraid to speak his opinions on wine and dining.

I had two wonderful dinners with him and Neetu Kapoor. He was a boisterous table buddy. Quite raunchy.

Those dinners, however, would not have been memorable if not for Rishi, even though one was made by England’s pride, the famous Gordon Ramsay.

My buddy Hemant Oberoi,  who ruled the Taj kitchen, asked me to experience a menu of rustic Punjabi food he had designed that would have any Sardarji truck driver dancing the Bhangra on the Grand Trunk Road doing the Bhangra the first time we dined together. Hemant, a Sikh, suggested I bring a buddy who was also a Sikh foodie with me to evaluate the authenticity of his meal.

Instead, I wore a beautiful Sikhni. Neetu (Singh) Kapoor gladly accepted my offer to eat at the Taj on Hemant’s menu of Punjabi rural food one Saturday night. She, being Sikhni, understood what was going on. It created a good tale and an even better movie, in my opinion.

Unfortunately, Neetu had taken Rishi with her. And he was in a wicked and merry mood. As was his way, he was bitingly caustic.

He had a couple of beers before they left the house. Rishi completed a bottle of Black Label by himself in front of my eyes, as Neetu and I went through Hemant’s menu course by course.
The restaurant where we were dining had closed for the evening.

But our celebration was only getting started. Rishi was its heart and soul.

Rishi demanded that we be relocated to the Taj’s private business club, the Chambers, and commanded Hemant to cook his favorite dish, the classic French Duck a l’Orange.

He then began singing loudly and off-key. When I saw Hemant’s pained expression, I knew the Taj’s executive chef was regretting his big plan for the evening.

But there was more bad news for Hemant. A condolence gathering was taking place in one of the Chambers’ private dining rooms. Hearing Rishi’s awful commotion, the enraged family hurried out. I’ll never forget how surprised they were.

Rishi was having a good time, sweating excessively and his cheeks reddened. He moved a notch higher when he saw the crowd, but Neetu stepped in and hustled a protesting Rishi out of the Chambers.

I had the best time of my life! The second time we met, it was in the Taj’s Ballroom, where Gordon Ramsay, London’s famed chef, and restaurateur, had created a diverse menu of Indian food for a Celebrity Dinner.

I’m not sure why Ramsay decided to give a ballroom full of prominent Indian faces, royalty, and Bollywood among them, to a supper of Indian food made by him while traveling India for a broadcast show for Britain’s Channel 4.

Rishi and Neetu Kapoor happened to be sitting at my table.
I knew there would be fireworks, so I prepared myself.

Ramsay’s dish was terrible. He’d gotten everything wrong.

I wish he had discreetly served us the dish we were accustomed to watching him create on Hell’s Kitchen. Worse, he was openly attempting to persuade us that this was the best Indian dinner we had ever had.

The distinguished but hungry guests respectfully listened to him expound on his Indian cuisine philosophy. Then Rishi blew up, saying, “What nonsense!”

There was anarchy. Then there was an uproar of voices. I could hear Rishi yelling, “Hemant! Hemant!” louder than everyone else.

And the brilliant Hemant Oberoi entered the Taj kitchen to prepare dinner for everyone. Gordon Ramsay was last seen leaving for the airport to catch a late-night trip home.