Cantonment Street Food, Bangalore

Being away from Bangalore for 6 months now, has kicked off the craving season. A craving for the city's fine weather and for the eat-outs that I used to frequent with the wife. To get over the craving, I couldn't think of a better way than to write about the places and food I miss, specifically around the Cantonment, where I grew up.

Feel free to add to the list in the comments section. No list about food can be exhaustive.

1) Butter Brothers of the Benne Dosa fame, Jewelers Street
That's not really what they call themselves. What do they call themselves? Nothing! There is no board indicating their identity. I've seen them at the same place for about 25 yrs + now. On Commercial Street look for the lane opposite the police station, just preceding it. Walk down and stop at the second intersection of narrow roads. With some luck, you'd notice a benne dosa cart attached to a tiny nook with ancient green doors. The older of the brothers, hands out the dosas and collects cash, and the younger brother plays magician. 3 stoves and pans on them are his arsenal, relics of thousands of dosas over the years. 2 lids move between the 3 pans at a consistent speed, punctuated by dollops of butter hitting the batter. In the monsoons, you could go singing 'butter, batter, rain drops'.

By far the best butter dosas I've had across the city, and that includes the Vidyarthi Bhavans and CTRs. Don't get there before 5 30 pm or after 8 30 pm. Mondays are closed and ensure you carry sufficient patience along with hard currency. If you are queasy about large crowds walking by staring at you while you eat, this may not be your place. Learn to adjust to them and make them a part of the experience (without offering them a bite).

2) Thom's Cafe, Frazer Town
No school year was done until it was truly finished gorging into the best Pineapple Pastry this side of the city. Thom's like its counterpart Koshy's, is as old as the Anglo-Indian community in Cantonment. I still remember running back from school, waiting for the special days for which the pastry was reserved. From a small bakery with the best smells of fresh baked bread, to a full fledged supermarket, its come a long way. Yet, nothing has changed - right from the out-of-circulation 1 and 2 Rs. notes under the massive glass at the cash counter to the most amazing puffs and pastries.

Best time to visit them - anytime. Be willing to walk through really narrow aisles. Parking is not an issue and time permitting soak in some divine essence at the St. Aloysius Cathedral, a short walk away. Christmas or not, they have the freshest dark plum cakes in the city - don't miss them either.

3) Shankar Chats, Wheeler's Road 
Just down the road from Thom's Cafe, is what is reputed to be the oldest chat center in Bangalore. Tough to validate that claim considering no one keeps a census of such things. But then again, census' are for the boring folks. Shankar Chats is on Wheeler's road. Follow Kamaraj Road from Thom's Cafe into Wheeler's and stop at the second road that leads off to the right. At the entrance you will find a significant crowd thronging a cash counter with patrons filling up every bit of standing and walking space of the lane next to it. They also deliver to the car if you can find a spot to stop by and are thick-skinned enough to let the honking cars not bother you. Tough luck if the traffic cops are around. May I recommend the Mixed Chat for 40 bucks please!! :) The menu is minimal and the spices are liberal. Get your own bottle of water I'd suggest.

4) Chowpaty Kulfi, MM Road
Especially for the Mumbaikars away from Mumbai. If you ever feel like popping in one of those amazing kulfis with falooda, this is the place to be. And come the hour of breaking fast during Ramzan and riseth the glory of Mosque road. Drive down Mosque Road heading north. Enter MM Road on the left, at the junction after Hotel Empire and look out for the break in the divider. To the right is Bombay Chowpatty. A u-turn and some deft parking would help at this point. If you are worried about the pani in pani puri, find the nearest bin and drop your worries in. Corn flour puris greet you with smiles breaking on their delicate tops as they are filled with peas and you with peace. The pani is hygienic and not once has it given me reason to worry. Wash it down with said falooda and kulfi.

5) Rawal Jalebi Center, Veerapillai Street
Not so much a center as a 10 ft. x 6 ft. room with the stove jutting onto the road, calling out patrons in blazing orange. Rawal is a one-man operation. About 8 months ago he shifted from the tiniest of cubby holes where only Rawal could stand to a place where 5 people can be seated. If you are around Commercial Street shopping, put that reminder on the phone to get some hot jalebis. From the main entrance of Commercial Street, head down along Kamaraj Road. About 100m later at the Vithoba temple, take a left and enter Veerapillai Street. In case you want to bring your car along, forget the jalebis. Enter V street and 100 feet into the street, on the right is Rawal's jalebi shop. Opens only around 6 pm and runs until 9 30 to 10 00 pm most nights. Don't forget to say a hearty thank you to Rawal uncle. Get repaid by a reaction that suggests Rawal doesn't care 2 drops of sugar syrup about you. All the sweetness of his life is in the jalebi.

6) Ebrahim Sahib Street, Ebrahim Sahib Street
or Ibrahim Sahib Street if you go by municipal records. Only one lane away from and parallel to Commercial Street with multiple narrower lanes connecting the two. Most of the street is full of food carts, many which lend their origins to the ChIndi cuisine of Gobi Manchurian and Noodles. The place is more diversified now with South Indian and other North Indian options available. Its lost its sheen over time, though remnants of the Chinese invasion remain in parts, slowly giving way to garments by the pavements. This one's just to see what a hungry horde can do to a street if given enough options to eat.

I could mention a few more but heh! 6 is a good start as any. Many of these places have heart-clogging options for the meat-lovers I gather (Siddique's). But cannot vouch for! And along the yawning potholes and 'tar'nished roads are many more places one could spend a day eating. Its winter time and what better way to warm up the insides than this, especially if you are around the Cantonment in Bangalore.

Time, Stand Still – Hotel Airlines (Part II)

Everybody needs a home away from home. For many it is a religious center – a temple, a church and for the atheists, their favourite pub with the gods bearing first names Jimi or Bob. For us, and I’ll briefly introduce the “us”, its Hotel Airlines. While starting off on Part I of this blog, the intent was to talk more of the “us”. It was only after the start that it dawned on me – while 4 of us meet at the place regularly, what bonds us was the 5th entity - the place itself. So Part I went in describing the place and the emotions it whips up.

Everybody needs a home away from home. Where they feel welcome and even if they don’t feel welcome, they don’t mind. You can’t be a guest at your own home, can you!? The waiters at Airlines go all-out in ensuring you feel at home. As mentioned earlier, there are lines drawn with wands that separate each waiter’s ‘area’ of tables from the others’. Like a friend puts it, these are Lines of Control and are taken very seriously. Ask something of a waiter from the enemy territory and the cold stare he gives along with the wave of the finger, suggesting “barthaare (he’ll come shortly)”, makes you feel like it’s a happy birthday party in Alaska – in your birthday suit. Few patrons have dared ask twice the same waiter, the whereabouts of his area’s designated man. Once bitten at Airlines and you’d be as shy as a newly-wed on the first night (strictly talking arranged marriages here). Trying to encroach upon another’s territory is like expecting breakfast before the gods have been given their quota of morning calories in an Iyengar household. That’s how much the waiters make you feel at home.

Asking for a tea/2, initiates a series of actions that would be banned in any self-respecting middle-eastern country. The WHO’s executive committee in its collective wisdom would yell out “WOO HOOO” upon spotting the hygiene levels. Empty glasses left in the open make you question authority. But the ones at Airlines start off an entire game of 20Q. The tap plays the role of Director, Make-shift Sink, c/o Massive Tree. Few swirls like those done by a Romanian gymnast later, precise-yet-meaningless, and the water is thrown on the ground you stand on. The waiter then proceeds to quickly split the tea into two. A deft flick of the hand is all it takes. What they miss out on quality, they make up with the metric system. An eye-to-eye check of the glasses, held at mid-riff level is undertaken to ensure both patrons who sought the tea/2 are given equal volumes of the tea.

None of the waiters ever make eye-contact unless provoked or seriously threatened. Their vision settles on a spot of “No Smoking” on a distant wall, easily recognizable by the hoard of smokers under it. Looking at you and acknowledging your presence, is in their books, putting the two of you on an equal plane. He may serve you two and take your money. He may obey a few of your commands and still like you tipping him. But as true as the brew in his hand, he’s superior to you. And he knows it. Waiters of Airlines, take a bow!

Time, Stand Still – Hotel Airlines (Part I)

How do you feel the pulse of a city? Of a generation? The clothes they wear; the universities they go to; the language they speak or, a smorgasbord of all those ingredients.

To me, the pulse lies in the eating-joints and the pubs of the city. Not the glitzy, halogen-lit corner quarters in the central business district, but those joints that are known only by word-of-mouth, and rely on old-fashioned switches to let its patrons see each other upon dusk. If you are in Bangalore, Hotel Airlines would top the priority list of must-visits. There maybe other joints of a similar stature but being a loyalist, I would put Airlines on the top of the heap – its position no different from the mish-mash of the ubiquitous carrot and coriander on a rava idli.

There are two ways to get to Airlines – travel down Lavelle Road from Lady Curzon’s Circle on MG Road, taking the first left as you head towards Vittal Mallya Road. Look out for a stream of cars heading in and out of what looks like a park met a parking lot. All cars are vying for one of two things – the fantastic ice-cream at the original Corner House on the left, or those Masala Dosas on the right from Airlines, for which sane men would commit highway dacoities. The other way is to stand on MG Road and ask the nearest pedestrian “Airlines?” with a vigorous shaking of the hand, thumb held high.

If you’re looking to get a feel of the city’s denizens in one single sitting, like that executive summary you are so used to seeing, Airlines is the place. A digression follows.

I remember being asked to dissect a cockroach as part of class 8, Biology labs. The run-up to the section, which had its fair share of excitement due to Royston, resident bully insisting on funding the entire class’ budget of cockroaches on his own over the weekend, was not something I enjoyed. On the day of Endoskeleton Armageddon, Royston failed to turn up with the required quota. I was glad. The attendant, 15 minutes into the class funded the shortage. Thanks to the attendant, I had a dead cockroach in front of me and a rusting scalpel held tightly between my fingers, behind me.

Me: “I don’t feel like killing it”
Evil Teacher: “It’s dead already”
Me: “I’m a vegetarian”
ET: “I didn’t ask you to eat it”
Me: “Waaaaaaaaaah!!” followed by cockroach tears
ET: profanities I would understand one year later

What’s the point of the digression? The need of the class was to draw the inner organs of Mr. Roach, a cross-section of his body if I may.

A similar cross-section of Hotel Airlines, would yield the following:
(a) Students from the commerce and science colleges nearby – 20-somethings talking loudly and animatedly with colour coordinated clothes and streaky hairstyles. They are the ones that bring the brightness to the place.
(b) Middle-aged crowd discussing domestic matters, internal (to their homes) and internal (to the country). Occasionally they do stray across a topic outside of the country, but are soon cut-to-size by the third demographic – pardesis
(c ) Backpackers and working professionals alike, from outside the country – mud-layered clothes, big packs by the side and smaller ones around the waist, experimenting with the menu. (d) Life-members of the local mafia whose typical conversations go “Cox Town naa paathikre, nee Fraser Town paathiko” (http://translate.google.com/#)
But the group that deserves the biggest mention, the most respect (they command it; no choice on that), and extract the maximum bend out of your back by letting you plead are the Airlines’ waiters. The sitting area is marked out by the waiters with magic lines visible only to them. No waiter shall serve you if you aren’t sitting in his quadrant and if your quadrant’s waiter is on a break of a few minutes, you bloody well wait. A full blog on them will shortly follow. They command that too.

Its where we meet thrice a week; we never get bored; the giant figus tree never stops providing shade; the waiters never stop treating us like 2nd rate citizens and we’ll never stop being grateful to them inspite. In a city fast swallowing itself like a black hole, it offers those few square yards that tell you the city and its citizens are still doing fine. And one day when someone’s concrete dreams come to shatter the calm of those sitting under the giant figus tree, hands will be held. The mafia and an old-timer; the average middle-class Bangalorean and a teenager on his first visit to the place and yours truly will do more than post a blog.