Author: manuscrypts

  • California Pizza Kitchen

    We decided to give Keramangala a break and limit our weekend outings to Indiranagar in May, considering that the latter had suddenly begun aping the former in terms of restaurants popping up all over the place. That’s how we landed up at California Pizza Kitchen, located in that stretch between 12th Main and CMH Road junctions on 100 feet Road, where it seems all the action is happening. (map) There’s valet parking and enough place for 2 wheelers too.

    The ambiance is very pizzeria like, and not really fine dining. But it’s neat, classy and was actually near-full when we got there at about 7.30. A little later, we could see people waiting too. But the service is fast, so even if you don’t reserve, you probably wouldn’t have to wait long.

    The menu at Zomato is almost complete – the only thing it’s missing is the smoothies section. We started with an Adobe Chicken Chowder, that came to us almost as soon as we ordered it! The tortilla strips added excellent texture to the thick creamy soup, which which was quite awesome – wild rice, cilantro, corn, though we did miss the green chillies. But the pepper on the table made up for that very well.

    For the main course, we ordered the Original BBQ Chicken, with a smoked bacon add-on and a thin crust, which costs Rs.20 more. I would’ve liked the BBQ sauce to be more dominant, specially because the onion and the unevenly spread cilantro are all-too familiar flavours. But it was a reasonably good pizza. The other dish we tried was the Southwestern Chipotle Fettuccine. A wonderful spicy, creamy dish, from which the only thing we’d have like to remove would be the black beans, which seemed to stick out like a sore thumb. We had just enough space to accommodate the Chocolate Banana Smoothie, which used regular cream that added a unique flavour to the mix.

     

    Overall, the experience was quite good, though pricing is definitely on the higher side – all the above with service charges and taxes came to over Rs.1600, not exactly what you’d expect from the friendly neighbourhood pizza joint. So long as you keep that in mind, and are fine with moderate portion sizes, you should be fine.

    California Pizza Kitchen, 284, Ground Floor, 100 feet Road, Indiranagar Ph: 64048888

  • From the Kerala diary..

    An overcast sky met us at the Alwaye railway station on June 1st. As I sat inside the bus to Kothamangalam, I wondered where the rains would meet us. I saw school kids waiting for their bus, but not as many as I had expected. It has been a tradition in Kerala – on June 1st, when the kids begin their academic year, the rains are the first to welcome them. I remembered umbrellas, raincoats, pants hitched up, new wet notebooks…. But it seemed that things weren’t so anymore. I wasn’t the only one surprised – the Gandhi in Perumbavoor stood open jawed.  We reached our destination, dry. I learned later that most schools were opening on Jun 4th and the rains were scheduled on Jun 5th. On the way back to Cochin that night, starting from a near empty bus stand, I was able to relive the window seat. But I realised that just as the seer had changed, so had the scene.

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    There’s a wonderful quote that’s attributed to Bryan White – “We never really grow up, we only learn how to act in public.” So when one goes back to places which only hold childhood memories, maybe there’s a natural pull to rewind to a time without that learning, and just let loose. And just like in that age and time, many impulsive, harmless things then become capable of delivering an incredible amount of joy.

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    For a long time now, Nedumbassery had been my exit point from Kerala. And so I sat, after a wedding feast, on a journey from there to Palghat and beyond, watching a series of places I hadn’t seen in more than a decade. Familiar landmarks and new sights, and the Western Ghats that stood solidly in the background. Hello, Kuthiran. Dad was surprised I could remember the name of the towns. How many ever roads a man walks down, his first roads remain etched….

    The occasion for which we had made the trip saw 3 generations – one that had been born and had spent all their childhood in that village, another (mine) in which the majority of the members had cities that they considered home but had spent many a wonderful vacation there, and a third which was probably making a few memories. There’s that favourite Garden State quote of mine – Maybe that’s all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place. In this version, ‘imaginary place’ is not a place that no longer exists physically, but one that exists in a certain state in  the memories of many people. I wondered when a place would cease to exist at all – is it when it disappears physically, is it when all the people who have memories of the place cease to exist, or is it when the place changes so much that even memories cannot bring it back. You’ll see when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it’s just gone. And you can never get it back. When the seer and the scene let go of each other. And that was why this trip was special – memories had been added, and the disappearing had been delayed.

    until next time, seen there, done that 🙂

  • The White Tiger: A Novel

    Aravind Adiga

    The experts talk of India and China dominating the world’s economy in the near future. Aravind Adiga’s protagonist Balram Halwai agrees, and even states as much in his letter to the visiting Chinese Premier. But the macabre twist lies in his reasoning, and that’s perhaps why this book is unique.

    There are many books that talk about India’s rising middle class and its opulence. There are also ones that talk about the ‘Other India’, the one that lurks beneath the urban sprawl that inspired ‘India Shining’. So the premise is not a new one, but I haven’t yet read a book that explodes the accepted stories of India’s transformation with such a relentless and unforgiving narrative.

    The White Tiger is an animal that appears once in a generation, and Balram is given the title early in his life, for standing out amongst his classmates. He takes it to heart and climbs up the class ladder despite being born in the Darkness, where moving out of one’s position in the social hierarchy is impossible. From the Darkness, he moves to Delhi with his master. The city, with its politicians and malls, when seen from Balram’s perspective has a bleak tinge to it.

    Balram breaks all the rules that bind the traditional Indian joint family unit and ends up an ‘entrepreneur’ and a murderer. At one level, its a social commentary that starkly shows the difference in lifestyles of the various classes that make up India, and what it takes to break through.

    But more importantly, it is more a take on an individual’s morality – Balram’s and even his master Ashok’s, when traditional diktats meet the necessities of the modern world in a nation that has only begun its march towards a complete overhaul. Though one could be critical and claim that some parts of the novel/characters merely reinforce stereotypes, the fact that Balram’s story seems entirely plausible makes the book a winner.

  • No kidding

    The debate on twitter, some time back, on the subject of kids on Junior MasterChef Australia was an interesting one to watch. I have no definitive opinion on it, and I understand that it can be debated both ways. So, just a few perspectives.

    I watched the show for a few days, and was amazed by the skill displayed by the kids. I also found the judges being very careful with their words. (they can be scathing as the ‘regular’ MasterChef show would prove) The kids seemed to be having fun. I don’t know if the elimination grind got to them. I don’t know how the entire experience would affect them – irrespective of them being winners or losers.

    What I do think is that in many ways, the show is preparing these kids for the world – for making choices, (I’m reasonably sure none of them have been forced to come here) chasing a passion, the consequences – winning and losing, fame and despair, public scrutiny and the loss of privacy, dealing with judgments passed by others and so on. And that goes for all sorts of reality shows – dance shows with scantily clad kids included. Any opinion I have against dance shows is a judgment based on my baggage, and objectively, I can’t be sure that dancing (of any kind in any attire) < cooking. I could be flawed in my rationale, but that’s like saying Vidya Balan’s performance in The Dirty Picture is somehow lesser than Sanjeev Kapoor’s erm, Dal Makhani.

    I am not a parent, so I can only talk from the perspective of a child that I once was. 🙂 We didn’t have reality television then, but we had non televised competitions, and I have been a participant. Music, debate, hockey, quizzing, cricket, dumb charades – I’ve represented  my school/college in all of these. I was lucky enough to be encouraged in most of these (very few got the point of Dumb C 🙂 ) by my parents and teachers. I can only dimly imagine the sacrifices my parents might have made for letting me pursue these and my other indulgences – voracious reading, for example. 🙂

    I do believe that most parents want the best for their children, though the way they show it could be seen and judged in different ways. Parents have no inkling of what the world will become, though they pretend to. They make choices based on their experiences, their perspectives of the future, and their desires for their children. I have a choice to make now too – I could blame my parents for not making me focus completely on studies. (for example) Who knows, I might have gotten in and out of an IIT/M and might have finally written a book. 😉 Or I could be thankful for the choices they made for me, and for the experiences that gave me. I, for one,  am indeed thankful, and think that these paths gave me valuable perspectives – with regards to all the ‘preparation for the world’ points I had listed earlier. There can be no A/B testing for all this, you realise. 🙂

    The fun part is that somewhere along the way, I started writing a bit. This blog has been around for more than 9 years, I write 2 newspaper columns. I haven’t been trained for any of this. Whether the story has a fairy tale ending is completely subjective and dependent on many factors that are beyond the parents’ or the child’s control, or imagination. The parents and the children are living some great moments. Perhaps that’s all there is to it.

    until next time, show stopper

  • Khaaja Chowk

    The review was first published in Bangalore Mirror.

    Indiranagar suddenly seems to have caught this second wind, as far as new restaurants go.  Suddenly there’s a spate of new restaurants, and on one building, (the same as Girias – map) if you manage to go higher than ‘High on Thai’, you’ll find Khaaja Chowk. Valet parking available, and there’s reasonable space for 2 wheelers nearby.

    Kitschy chic makes for a good oxymoron, and I’d probably use the décor of Khaaja Chowk as its poster child. Posters are exactly where we’ll start, the ones I was caught gaping at, and then clicking away furiously. If you love Bollywood as I do, there’s no way you’d miss the chance to capture micro posters of ‘Shaitan Mujrim’, ‘Pistol Wali’ and so on!  Or you could take a step back and walk up the last flight of stairs that lead to the restaurant on the third floor, its walls adorned with framed retro matrimonial columns, lottery tickets and matchbox covers!

    There’s no escape once you’re inside either! Internet darlings like ‘Child Bear’ and ‘Lick-her-Shop’ take their rightful place alongside more to-the-point shop hoarding graphics like ‘Angrezi Sharab ki Dukaan’. You’d also want to check out that special table with bindis, clips and nail polish sets under a glass top. The auto rickshaw tables deserve a special mention, perfect for a group of 4, though we didn’t sit there because it was quite late and feared whether we’d finally be asked to pay one-and-a-half times the bill. The person to thank for all the above is Vikram Nair, who started the chain of restaurants several years ago in Gurgaon and brought it to Bangalore a month and a half back. Interesting trivia is that his sister is Mira Nair, no, not a namesake, the filmmaker herself.

     

    It was difficult to get the visual treat to take a backseat, but we finally managed to get down to business with a Cheese Chilli Seekh Kabab, a Khaaji ki Chaat and a Non Veg Kabab Platter. The chaat turned out to be standard papdi chaat fare, save the sev, and with a cabbage signature! The chilli dominated the Cheese Chilli kabab and the cheese was relegated to the background in terms of flavour, but is highly recommended if you don’t mind some spice. The non veg platter consists of Chicken Banno Kabab, Chicken Burrah Kabab and Mutton Seekh Kabab. The Burrah Kabab was the best of the lot, mildly spicy and juicy. The Seekh lost out only because it was slightly crumbly, though its flavours were just right. The Banno Kabab was subtle to the point of being bland, and was the least favourite. We also tried a sweet lassi to wash it all down, but that was quite a disappointment, mostly thanks to the sour curd! The other drink we tried was the Virgin Mary Masala – standard tomato juice and Worcestershire sauce but with a green chillies and masala desi twist that made the drink special.

     

    The menu seems a toned down version of the one available at other outlets of the chain. Quite surprisingly for the crowd involved, the dish that became an instant favourite was a vegetarian one – the Makhmali Kofta curry, a white cashew based gravy that was mildly spicy and creamy and had koftas that just smoothly slide down. The Chicken Chengezi is not as fiery as its name makes it out to be and is supposed to be only mildly spicy. It was exactly that, but had a slight tan (for a dish supposed to be made in milk and cream) and was missing the boiled egg. However, it was well cooked and quite tasty. The Rara Gosht was the least impressive – the gravy was too greasy for our liking and the meat was unevenly cooked, actually mostly rubbery. The naans were standard and if you like spice, you might want to try the Rogni Naan. The Matka Biryani – Chicken came late to the party but got a good response – subtle flavours, not greasy and succulent chicken pieces.

    The Rabri Khaaja and the Rocket Kulfi were the standout items in the menu, so we decided to test them out. The Kulfi’s flowery presentation needs a special mention and it also turned out reasonably well, though quite subtle. We liked the Rabri Khaaja more though, thanks to its combination of a crunchy base and a malai based topping.

     

    A mocktail, a lassi, a non-veg starter, a couple of naans, a veg and non-veg dish for the main course, and a shared kulfi would cost approx 1,200 inclusive of taxes. We had perfect weather for an under-the-sky meal, and all the seating options –even the ones inside – have their own charm, in addition to the unique overall ambiance. Add to it, the serendipity of rediscovering 90s Bollywood songs, and we have a box office winner. The only villain in the piece was the tardy service once the place got crowded. Which reminds me, it’s probably a good idea to reserve in advance, the place does get crowded. The meal started and ended well, though the main course could have been better. For all of this, you should definitely drop in at least once. If not a chakka, at least a chauka is guaranteed.

    Khaaja Chowk, No-276, 100 feet Road, HAL 2nd Stage, Indiranagar, Ph: 080- 40920585