A Biography of Cooking Methods
When Chef Aarav looks back at his life, he doesn’t just remember flavors. He remembers the sounds of pans clanging in rhythm, the hiss of onions hitting hot oil, the slow bubbling of broth on a rainy afternoon. To him, cooking methods were never just techniques — they were characters, moods, and lifelong companions.
His journey from a small kitchen in his mother’s home to grand cruise liners and global kitchens was not built on recipes alone. It was built on understanding how to cook — deeply, respectfully, and intentionally.
This is his story — and the story of every cooking method that shaped him.
A Childhood Simmered with Moist Heat
Aarav was seven when he first learned the difference between a rapid boil and a slow simmer — not from a culinary book, but from his grandmother’s dal pot.
She would say, “Boiling is like shouting. Simmering is whispering. Whisper when you want your food to listen.”
Those early lessons of boiling lentils, simmering broths, and steaming vegetables became his initiation into moist-heat cooking.
He learned that boiling, though aggressive, had its place — especially when preparing large meals quickly. But he noticed how it often made vegetables lose color, and grains feel overcooked unless watched like a hawk.
He fell in love with simmering — how slowly it coaxed flavors from spices and bones, creating depth without chaos. It felt like storytelling, he would later say, one bubble at a time.
And steaming — oh, steaming! His first experience making idlis with his mother taught him that water, though never touching the batter, could make it rise, soften, and melt in the mouth. It was like magic.
Years later, when he poached his first fish fillet for a guest onboard a cruise ship, the precision of poaching reminded him of the care needed to hold something delicate — not too hot, not too long. Just enough.
Braising and stewing would later become his soul-comfort methods. They reminded him of long monsoon afternoons at home, meat tenderizing slowly in spicy gravies, while stories were shared over warm rotis.
Discovering Dry Heat: Where Fire Became His Friend
In culinary school, Aarav’s world shifted. For the first time, he entered an oven room.
Here, he was introduced to dry-heat cooking — techniques that flirted with flame, air, and oil rather than water.
Roasting felt like transformation. He remembered his first roasted carrot dish — how the humble root became sweet and caramelized, touched by nothing but heat and patience.
He learned how baking was not just for cakes, but for mastery. Baking taught him discipline. Unlike stirring a curry, baking didn’t forgive errors. You couldn’t fix a deflated soufflé or an over-baked tart. It was perfection or nothing.
His nights working at a fine-dining grill station were his grilling phase. It was heat, smoke, sweat, and adrenaline. Every steak, every chicken breast, every skewer had to be timed with symphonic precision.
Broiling, he discovered later, was the fast flame from above — his tool for gratins and melting cheese. And searing was his favorite act of drama. The sizzle of salmon skin on a hot pan — that sound never stopped thrilling him.
Combining Techniques: The Dance of Moist and Dry
As he matured, Chef Aarav realized the real magic lay in combination methods.
Braising gave him his proudest dish — lamb shanks cooked in red wine, tomatoes, and spices, seared first, then gently slow-cooked till the meat fell off the bone.
Stewing, to him, was like poetry. Smaller pieces, full immersion, and deep flavors — curries, tagines, ragus — each one carried a cultural fingerprint.
He coined a phrase among his juniors:
“Stewing is slow love. Let the pot write its poem.”
Global Kitchens and Cultural Wisdom
Chef Aarav’s culinary awakening truly began when he stepped out of India.
On cruise ships, he learned stir-frying in Asian galleys, where chefs handled woks like swords — fire rising, sauces hissing, everything fast and fierce. They taught him about “wok hei”, the soul of stir-fry, which could never be written down — only felt.
In Turkey, he witnessed tandoori cooking, where skewers danced inside clay ovens. The marinated meats sang with spice and smoke.
In Texas, he discovered smoking — hours-long processes where meat absorbed the scent of hickory, mesquite, and patience.
In Japan, yakitori grills taught him minimalism — just salt, fire, and chicken on skewers. And tempura frying introduced him to batter’s lightest touch.
Modern Tools, Ancient Soul
But Chef Aarav wasn’t bound by the past. He embraced modernist techniques with childlike wonder.
Sous-vide, with its precise water baths, became his favorite way to respect proteins. He remembered the time he sous-vided duck breast and finished it with a sear. The guest said it melted “like poetry in the mouth.”
Dehydration, he used for crispy apple chips on desserts. Spherification helped him turn mango puree into caviar pearls.
But no matter how modern the tools, Aarav insisted that the heart must remain old-school. “You can vacuum seal a steak, but you can’t vacuum seal love,” he laughed once.
Passing the Torch: Teaching the Language of Heat
In his 30s, Aarav returned to India not just as a chef, but as a mentor.
He would gather his apprentices and teach not recipes, but methods. One day was all about moist heat, the next about dry techniques, the third about fusion cooking using both. He wanted them to understand why as much as how.
He told them:
“Steam your vegetables when you want to protect their colors.”
“Sear your fish like you’re sealing a secret.”
“Braise your meats like you’re cradling a memory.”
Each cooking method, he believed, taught a life lesson.
Boiling reminded him of urgency.
Simmering taught patience.
Frying was about risk.
Baking required trust.
Smoking asked for commitment.
Poaching needed gentleness.
Roots & Smoke: A Restaurant Built on Technique
Aarav’s restaurant, Roots & Smoke, reflected every cooking method he mastered.
The starter was poached pear salad with cold-smoked almonds.
The main course included grilled river fish on sautéed spinach with pan-seared citrus.
The dessert? A deconstructed baked cheesecake with sous-vide pineapple, dehydrated strawberry powder, and a sugar sphere that burst with mint foam.
Each item told a story of how it was cooked, not just what it was made of.
Chef Aarav’s Cooking Journal: “The Ways of Heat”
He kept a journal called “The Ways of Heat” where he documented every technique he ever learned. Here’s what he once wrote:
“Cooking is the language of heat.
Moist heat speaks in comfort.
Dry heat in charisma.
Combination in balance.
Modernist techniques speak in precision.
But the chef must learn every dialect.
To be fluent not in recipes — but in reaction.
Heat meets protein — reaction.
Water meets starch — reaction.
Passion meets method — transformation.”
Legacy Through Method
Today, Chef Aarav teaches workshops, mentors young chefs, and is writing a book titled “More Than Fire: The Hidden Soul of Cooking Methods.”
He insists his students don’t memorize recipes but master heat. Because once you know what steaming does, how poaching feels, what roasting transforms, you can make anything — even without a book.
His restaurant kitchen wall carries a plaque that reads:
“Methods are the roots. Recipes are the leaves. Master the roots, and your tree will always bear fruit.”
The Man Who Became a Method
Chef Aarav’s biography isn’t just the story of a man — it’s the story of every cooking method we’ve ever known.
Through boiling, he learned patience.
Through baking, he learned faith.
Through grilling, he learned intensity.
Through steaming, he learned preservation.
Through combination, he learned balance.
Through modern techniques, he learned evolution.
Through all of them, he learned life.
And in teaching others, he passed it on — method by method, meal by meal, moment by moment.
Because in the end, every great chef is not made by what they cook — but by how they choose to cook it.
