Chef Romy Gill’s Fantasy Dinner — Poirot and Anthony Bourdain visit idyllic rural Punjab

My party takes place at a location I remember fondly from my childhood holidays. We take the train from West Bengal to Punjab, a 24-hour journey, with stops at various stations en route to enjoy food at the houses of my grandparents and cousins. There we’ll dine picnic-style, as I used to with my siblings and cousins, under a jamun (berry) tree in the fields.

Joining me are Sarit Packer and Itamar Srulovich of Middle Eastern restaurant Honey & Co, who’ll help to prepare and cook an incredible vegetarian feast in honour of my mum and grandmas. I hope the meal will be a relaxed affair, filled with stories of why the location and food were so important to me. I’ll recount the time we snuck off to a nearby orchard to pick pomegranates without asking the owner’s permission. After being spotted, we were given the punishment of cleaning the orchards for a full week in the searing summer heat.

My guests won’t have any such problems. They’ll sit in the shade while Itamar starts the fire and Sarit and I gather fresh vegetables from the fields. It’s an experience that I know my first guest, the late Anthony Bourdain, would have loved. Plus, because of his 6ft 4in height, he’d be able to help us to pick the best mango and jamun before placing them in cold water to keep for later. I hope this will give him another authentic food and travel experience to talk about and am excited to hear him recount the kind of past adventures that inspired TV series like Parts Unknown.

We’ll begin the evening with Rooh Afza, a refreshing brand of syrup with floral flavours that I remember from childhood, topped up with milk from the local farm’s buffaloes. The first course is vegetarian pakoras, served with plenty of fresh mint and fresh coriander chutney for dipping, made in a pestle and mortar by my dad.

Steaming bowls of lauki sabzi — summer squash — arrive served with a lauki raita. To make this we’ll peel, grate and boil the summer squash, draining the water and leaving to cool before mixing with natural yoghurt, chaat masala, a pinch of sugar and milk, whisking until smooth. Platters piled high with roti — flat breads with a liberal application of ghee to keep them moist — are passed round to help the guests to soak up every last morsel of their meal. To keep everyone cool and hydrated in the hot Punjabi weather, glasses of nimbu pani are filled and refilled. The combination of water, lemon juice, sugar and black salt may seem unusual to those not accustomed to northern Indian drinks, but its thirst-quenching properties cannot be beaten.

In homage to my grandmother, we’ll also be preparing a bean curry, which was her speciality and a dish she used to serve instead of a dal. Removing the beans from their pods, we’ll cook them with onions, garlic (including the greens), ginger, tomato, water and spices. But which spices? It’s a challenge that I’ll give to another of my guests — Hercule Poirot — to see if his detective skills can work out what I’ve included. That’s not the only reason the super-sharp Poirot is here. There’s something loveable about him that reminds me of my father. As a child, reading Agatha Christie’s Poirot books somehow made me feel safe.

There’s something loveable about Poirot that reminds me of my dad. Those books made me feel safe

The main meal finished, we retreat to the field to play cricket, giving my guests a taste of what social occasions were like when I was a child. Then, after sunset, pudding is served: fresh mangoes, jamun and red ruby pomegranate jewels with my Mango, Ginger & Lime 6 O’Clock Gin.

It’s a light, refreshing dessert that’s the perfect end to a traditional meal, accompanied by the wonderful voice of the late Punjabi poet and novelist Amrita Pritam, who recounts her tales of the trauma during the partition of India. While these stories are sad, they give a true insight into an important part of India’s history.

We can’t finish the evening without enjoying one of my other favourite childhood pastimes: Bollywood. When I was at college in the 1980s, I snuck out with my friends Radha and Simi to watch Maine Pyar Kiya (I Have Loved), the romantic hit that made actor Salman Khan a star. So it’s fitting that tonight Khan is here to teach us a simple dance routine and give us an insight into what the Indian film industry is really like. After one final drink it’s time to say our goodbyes, and to reflect on what I hope has been a delicious evening all round.

Romy Gill is a chef, restaurateur and author of ‘On The Himalayan Trail’ (Hardie Grant Books)

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