Bangalore has managed to integrate new ideas while serving traditional foods

Which Indian city has the least exciting food scene?

Surprisingly, the answer is Delhi. Not a lot that is any good happens or opens in the city.

 

And while a lot happens in Gurgaon, most of it is far behind say, Mumbai, in terms of quality or innovation. This is sad because only a decade ago I was able to confidently claim that the food in Delhi was better than the food in Mumbai. No longer.

 

   But these things change all the time. For many years, I rated Bangalore as the food capital of India because the restaurants — even hotel restaurants — were inventive and high quality. Then Bangalore lost itself in pubs. That malaise was transformed into an obsession with bars. I have nothing against people who only go out to drink and treat the food as a secondary attraction. But if you are looking for good restaurants it is not very helpful to be told that such and such bartender at this really cool bar invents great cocktails and yes, you can also have a plate of fried prawns by the side.

 

   That’s changed now, I think. On my last few trips to Bangalore I have been delighted to see that the bar scene and the food scene have learned to live together in happy harmony. I was also pleased to see that you could eat very well at clean, good-looking restaurants without spending too much money.

 

   Bangalore’s chefs and restaurateurs are much more imaginative than their counterparts in Delhi. But sadly, while the stand-alone sector thrives, the food at hotels has collapsed. The single worst meal I had in Bangalore was in what must be the city’s most expensive restaurant located, of course, at a five star hotel.

 

   Also, as sadly, the Chinese food is disappointing. Since the demise of the original Cantan I would not recommend a single Chinese restaurant in Bangalore though The Shang Palace at the Shangri La has its moments.

 

   What intrigued me the most about Bangalore this time was how the tech capital of India has managed to integrate new ideas while serving traditional foods. The best example of this is the Rameshwaram Café. Launched a few years ago by people from outside the food business but with tech/engineering backgrounds, it is currently the biggest phenomenon on the Bangalore scene.
 

 

I went to one of its original branches a couple of years ago and it was so crowded that I got my dosas, sat in my car and ate them there. Since then, the mini-chain has expanded using a franchise model. When I went to the Rajajinagar branch, I was startled to see that that it was even more jam-packed (they serve upwards of 10,000 people a day on weekends). But it was large and airy and while it was not possible to find place for thousands of people to sit at tables, there were many standing areas with high tables and a sense that you could escape the crowd.

 

   It is hard to get a bad dosa in Bangalore but I would have thought that any restaurant that serves as many as 15,000 dosas a day could not afford to worry too much about quality.

 

   I was wrong. The dosas, the idlis, the flavoured rice, the rasam — every single thing I tried was excellent. The crowd ranged all the way from teenagers to retired people and they all appeared to be enjoying themselves even though ordering at Rameshwaram Café is not quick: you queue up to give your order (this could take up to 15 minutes) and then wait your turn as the food is made fresh for you.

 

   One of the maxims of the food business is that if you want scale, you are better off with a chefless restaurant like a Pizza Hut or McDonald’s where the systems are so strong that even if a monkey jumped off a nearby tree, went to the kitchen and made your pizza or assembled your burger you would not be able to tell the difference.

 

"Bangalore was the city where Andhra food first travelled to: the local Nagarjuna branch is still a firm favourite."

   This is clearly not true of South Indian cuisine which requires skilled cooks and so, it was said, it could never achieve the same volumes as say, a pizza place. Rameshwaram Café is the example that proves that this maxim is flawed.

 

   At the Rajajinagar branch I went to (where I also checked out the vast kitchen) they make the chutneys and the batter fresh every two hours. There are no refrigerators and everything is made exactly as it would be at a small local restaurant.

 

   This branch is a franchise run by friends from the IT industry who were fascinated by the concept. I asked Chetan Jhadav who has taken on the job on looking after the operation full-time if he missed the world of IT: in fact, he responded, he wanted to be allotted another franchise location for Rameshwaram Café and to take this concept to other cities.

 

   Can bars serve good food? Abroad: yes. But, in India: rarely. Or so I thought till I went to the new Muro, a large (200 plus covers) bar and restaurant run by Niharika and Anil Gowda who I last wrote about some years ago when they opened the Druid Garden.

 

   The concept is high quality cocktails, reasonably priced wines and East Asian food (not just snacks but main courses too).The bar part is terrific. They have hired Sahil Essani who was the World Class cocktail champion last year to handle the drinks and he has delivered what his reputation leads one to expect.

 

   But it was the food that impressed me. The East Asian food is fine: the dim sums are very good in a modern sort of way though the Chinese main courses are only so-so. It is the Thai food that is the star of the show. It is easily the best in Bangalore and better than anything I have eaten recently in Delhi.

 

   Anil Gowda has flown in two Thai chefs and has a food nerd’s intensity when it comes to sourcing his ingredients: the Sriracha is from a traditional small production Thai guy (no Vietnamese-American versions in this kitchen); the fish sauce comes from a tiny producer. Likewise with the palm sugar. A lady in Chiangmai is making his Northern Thai sausages for him. The jasmine rice is high quality not the cheap rubbish that is exported to India: it was so good that my wife ate the rice on its own with a little fish sauce.

 

   Bangalore is also the home of the Lavonne academy, India’s premier pastry and baking school. I have known Vinesh Johny, the gentle and thoughtful chef who founded it, for some years now and I regularly pick his brains when I write about pastry but I had never been to Lavonne till this trip. The school is world class and they made me try the croissants, cakes and snacks that Vinesh sells at three Lavonne café all over Bangalore.

 

   I liked his sourdough so much that I bought it back to Delhi and I’m waiting to see if Vinesh will open a Lavonne Café in Delhi’s Defence Colony as he promises.

 

   Bangalore was the city where Andhra food first travelled to: the local Nagarjuna branch is still a firm favourite. Now, it is Kerala food that shines. Regi Mathew’s Kappa Chakka Kandhari outlet (the original is in Chennai) is much admired by the city’s foodies but I also like the consistent quality of Paragon. The original Paragon is in Calicut and when I told Bangalore’s Malayalis that I thought the Bangalore branch was good, the polite ones looked at me with scepticism while the less polite guys shot me looks of contempt. No matter, I am sticking to my stand. (Steer clear of the biryani though: not as good as it should be.)

 

   And then of course, there is Manu Chandra’s brilliant Lupa. Manu is the king of Bangalore and this is a spectacular restaurant. It is slightly retro, super glamorous and perfect for all kinds of meals, from authentic pizzas to oyster/truffle/caviar blow outs. It deserves a piece of its own.