Popagandhi

Bangalore, like so many other Asian cities, is serious about its food. Under the guidance of a local foodie, I became a fan, of the city and its food.

The Mavalli Tiffin Room near Lalbagh, affectionately known as MTR, is something of a culinary institution in Bangalore. So many myths abound about it — it has the “world’s best thosai”, though no one really knows who awarded this; it’s so good that some of its customers have been eating here every morning for the past 30 years, looking at the clientele present, you could almost believe them.

Most people who have grown up in Bangalore have fond memories of walks in Lalbagh followed by a delicious breakfast at MTR. I had the good fortune to pay this great institution a visit: an event so seminal I actually surprised myself by being able to drag myself out of bed at an unearthly hour, before the breakfast crowd got in (as with many culinary institutions of such a stature, MTR is also known for its famous queue).

I was really there for the masala thosai, intrigued by how a thosai could possibly get that good. In my books, I have some foods which I enjoy eating but in my opinion can never be “great”, only “pretty good”; I’d wrongly assumed masala thosai was one of those. My friend Urmila, whom I was boarding with, ordered a kharabhath along with the thosai. A kharabhath what?

Kharabhath

If I remember correctly (my memory is like a sieve when I am thoroughly into my food), Kharabhath means ’spicy rice’. It is made of semolina, ghee, bengalgram dal, cashewnut, sugar, mustard, green chilli, ginger, tumeric, fenugreek, cloves (how do I know this? I bought the MTR kharabhath instant mix, I presume the ingredients are similar); and it tastes like heaven. It’s one of those acquired tastes, that, once acquired, will leave you constantly in desire of the one specific dish you have to fly 4 hours to get to.

I have to admit I’m not a very big fan of thosai. I’d wrongly assumed the thosai we had in Singapore would be at least mildly representative of the real stuff, since we have such a large South Indian presence, but I never really ‘got’ thosai. After trying the version at MTR, nothing much has changed — I still won’t be eating thosai back home — only that this time, it’s because I know they are by far inferior to what thosai can be! (My recent attempt to reconcile with Singaporean masala thosai at Ananda Bhavan saw 75% of the crap left behind. It’s MTR or nothing, baby.) MTR’s masala thosai was crisp and soft in all the right places, not too oily, and not too rich. Its texture was masterfully perfect, the taste was subtle and explosive at the same time. Together with the kharabhath and the cup of hot chai, I was in a state of extended bliss.

As the major cosmopolitan city south of Mumbai, Bangalore showcases the best and most diverse of Indian food. Fancy extreme spice and chicken? There’s cuisine from Andhra Pradesh to sample. For excellent and spicy seafood, try the Mangalorean cuisine. Want to go international? There’s very decent Italian at the fancy i.ta.lia restaurant at the US$350/night Park Hotel (which blew as big a hole in my wallet as a similar establishment in Singapore would), a range of serious Chinese and Japanese establishments. Roadside vendors with pushcarts selling delicious (though diarrhea-inducing) pani puri, a sampling of Keralean food, North Indian if you wish. On Food Street one starts with lovely appams and idlis, accompanied by masala cokes or Jodhpuri lassi (sweet curd with nuts and dried fruits descended from that fantastic lassi town of Jodhpur, thousands of miles away in Rajasthan), ending with an assortment of various chaat (finger food) and of course, Indian sweets.

Snacks on Food Street

Every poor backpacker knows that to save money, go for a thali (set meal). This is a thali at Empire, MG Road.

Plain kori roti, a crispy roti, accompany the rich and spicy sauces of Mangalorean seafood. Kudla, at Hotel Ramanshree.

Naan is so totally overrated. Kulcha, baby, kulcha.

See you real soon, Bangalore.

Many thanks to Dev and Urmila for lodging and companionship in Bangalore, and for letting me take as many pictures as I wanted of food even though I knew we were all hungry. Maybe one day I’ll acquire a taste for honey cake.