It is easy to talk to Chris Morris; easier to do so over a meal. He is affable, loves his food, likes to talk and doesn’t mind public attention.
We meet in the lobby of Hotel Pullman, and the newly developed Aerocity neighbourhood, made up exclusively of almost half-a-dozen luxury hotels in the vicinity of the Indira Gandhi Airport, is perhaps ideal for a meeting with a globe-trotting cricketer. The South African pacer is busy getting selfies clicked with fans, greets you, then gets dragged away for another click.
“I don’t mind it, it’s all fun and not a burden or anything,” Morris shrugs it off, settling into Pluck, the modern day eatery at the hotel. Built on the concept of farm-to-plate that attempts to use as much local and fresh produce as possible, it is also one of the favourite spots in the hotel for Morris. “Of course, meals are private space and I do not like people intruding into it or pulling me away,” he adds even as we are presented with freshly-plucked lettuce with cured tomato tea.
With the Delhi Daredevils team staying at the hotel, Morris is a familiar face for the restaurant staff. They know his favourites and even though he calls for a menu, both parties know what he would settle for finally. Morris doesn’t disappoint and the staff gets busy with preparing roasted lamb rack mustard praline, pomelo threads, caramelised baby onions and spinach purée – Morris would have been fine with just the lamb chops. His favourite place back home is an Indian restaurant that serves lamb kormas.
Executive chef Ajay suggests the Parmesan soup with burnt garlic, oat meal strudel and roll over Melba as a starter and Morris is game. “Bring it on, we will try it,” he announces as the chef leaves us alone and Morris is more than happy to talk about food and cricket, in that order. “I am a foodie, I love my food and I cook quite well. I am married man, after all!” he laughs. At home, he is the one who hogs the kitchen while his wife does the dishes. “I hate doing that, so it’s a fair deal,” he says. Potjiekos, a stew unique to South Africa, is his favourite food back home.
As far as modern professional sportspersons go, Morris isn’t too finicky about his diet. He proudly admits he gets it from his mother. “My mum is the best cook in the world. She makes the best cold potato salad and vegetable pie. But then mums are the best, because they make it with love. There is nothing like home-cooked food,” declares, Morris, adding that he was planning to bring his parents for the next edition of the IPL, “if I am there”.
A family man by his own admission, Morris loves to spend time at home and, obviously, cook. “I make quite nice pasta. I am good on the fire, with the meats. In fact, they had a cooking contest here, me Mayank (Agarwal) and Shreyas (Iyer) and I won hands down,” he informs proudly.
On the cricketing front, however, Morris is quite grounded and aware of the realities of the sport. He was bought by Chennai Super Kings for $625,000 to make his debut with a bang in 2013. His base price then was $20,000. Last year, DD picked him up for $1,04,4000. “To be honest, I would have been happy with my base price, it was a surprise but it felt nice that people actually wanted me in the first place,” he asserts, still wondering about the whole auction process.
The lamb arrives and Morris gets serious – about the food. “You can see by my carving that I hunt a lot back home, clean off the bones,” he mutters, more to himself. “At the stadium I stick to boiled eggs and bananas, protein and potassium that keep me going. It’s safe,” he continues.
At 28, he is a late bloomer, making the national team only at the age of 25. He is yet to cement his spot in the Test side. But there is more to Morris than just food and fun. “I missed the second season of IPL because of injury and it was quite an experience for me. I realised how much I loved playing cricket and it is important because a lot of guys lose sight of why they started playing in the first place. On the other hand, I spent a lot of time with my family and realised there were more important things in life than cricket, which itself is very important. I understood the importance of striking a balance,” he says, revealing another side to the otherwise fun-loving character he is known as.
The lunch is almost over and though he had refused initially, a delay of 15 minutes in the team meeting gives Morris a chance to tuck into a lemon sorbet and vanilla ice cream for dessert. “I have the worst diet as a sportsperson. I like to call myself a skinny fat guy,” he laughs.
There is a lot more, both about cricket and food, that Morris would love to talk but he has started getting reminders for the team meeting. This meeting is over – for now.
