Author: manuscrypts

  • The Only Place

    This is only our second visit, and that’s all thanks to a rare mistake I made about 4 years back. No, I’m not claiming to be otherwise flawless, its just that on our previous visit, I forgot to mention that I wanted the steak well done, and they gave me a rare one!! The immense strength my jawbone displays now, is thanks to that incident.  And the memory made sure I kept away from the place.

    This time too, the original choice was Spiga, but Spiga, I was told, is no longer open??!! So, I thought the time had come for another shot. The Only Place is in the central part of  Bangalore, but the location and the ambience would deceive you. Its on Museum Road – from Church Street, take a left at Empire, just before you reach the next junction, you’ll see it on your left. Parking might be made easier, thanks to the (parking space of the) neighbouring office building.

    We did reserve a table, but didn’t prove necessary at 8pm. It was  a Sunday, I’m sure it would be more crowded on Saturday, and anyway the place was almost full by 8.30. We started with a cream of mushroom soup. While the soup was definitely thick, the cream was not very evident. For the main course, there’s quite a lot of steaks to choose from, with some baked items, spaghetti, burgers etc also thrown in. There’s enough choice for the veggies as well. Though I simply love the Chateaubriand steak (thanks to an official lunch, where the ‘well done’ was amply communicated) I decided to try something different, and ordered a Chicken Cacciatore. The wife ordered an OP’s special fish. The chicken dish is “ tender cubes of chicken, served in a red spicy sauce with celery and mushroom on a bed of noodles (there’s also an option of rice), onions and assorted vegetables” The sauce is simply amazing, its spicy without making you all teary, the noodles is soft and absorbs the flavours fast, and overall, the dish is very tasty. If you’re not into beef and can’t order the Chateaubriand, go for this one. The Op special fish is “fillets of fish topped with herbs and spices charbroiled, served with vegetables and mash potato” Though the fish is somewhat bland, the topping and the sauce ensure that the dish is tasty enough.

    There was a chocolate fudge cake that was eyeing me from the display all through my dinner, and I succumbed finally. Thank God! Awesme, and they pour enough chocolate sauce s that its practically dripping. Pure evil!! And there are other options too, including a trifle pudding. Some other time, maybe 😀

    The quantities are just right. It leaves you full but not bloated. All of the above cost us just over Rs.600, including a mineral water for Rs.25 😉

    The Only Place, No: 13, Museum Road. Ph: 32718989

    Photos at Zomato

  • Invaluable

    There is a peculiar phenomenon that happens on Bangalore roads. Whenever the traffic stops at a signal,  some of the vehicles behind quickly make their way outside the median onto the side of the road belonging to the traffic from the opposite side. These vehicles move ahead a bit and then try to get back by fobbing the guys who have been disciplined enough to stick to their side. In most cases, they are not able to, and they are at the receiving end of contemptuous glares. I wonder what these guys believe-  the Bhagavad Gita moral of ‘end justifying the means’? Or is it to do with solving the immediate problem and figuring out the right/wrong of it later?

    The last few days have been bad for the global workforce in general. While the layoffs in the US seemed somehow far away, the Jet axing was closer. A few days back, a couple of my twitter friends worriedly spoke about how a few of their colleagues were being asked to put in their papers. They are young kids, in their mid twenties, perhaps in their first jobs. Most likely, they have grown up seeing (at least the first) trends of opulence. Even in their earning life, it has been a life of choice abundance, that has spawned a life on EMI.

    Sometimes, they remind me of the guys who go across the median. They get glares from those who feel they’re not entitled to be where they are, that’s okay, I think they have learnt to deal with that, but I am not sure if they have learnt to deal with the massive truck that will come bearing down on them from the opposite side. They will panic when they have nowhere left to go. But hopefully, it will help them gain some perspective.

    One of the good things about most people of my generation is that they have been brought up with the strong foundations of what is fondly or deprecatingly (depending on who says it) called the great indian middle class. There are a lot of values there that stand you in good stead. I sometimes wonder if the cosmos has its own ways of inculcating the values it wants to see in us mere mortals. Quite a humbling thought, that…

    until next time, keep the faith

  • Accurzzzd

    Somewhere in the first half, Himesh sings “Hari Om. With the twang, it sounds like ‘Hurry Home’. I didn’t heed it. As the movie moved towards the climax, and Himself confronts Urmila, who plays the vamp, I half expected Him to sing ‘Ch***** banaya’ in tune with his old hit. This time I’d have agreed.

    until next time, but hey, its a must watch 🙂

  • Bombay Post

    No, its not a post on Bombay. Bombay Post is a restaurant from the BJN group on (the old) Airport Road. Its housed in the same building as TGIF and Indijoe, has valet parking and sufficient parking for two wheelers (behind the building). We reserved a table at 7.45, but called up later to check if they could hold it till 8, since we were delayed. We were told that’d not be possible, and we would have to walk in and depend on our luck. Our luck seemed intact since there were only 4 other tables occupied when we walked in. It started filling up around 8.30 though. They seemed to have changed the wall decor a bit, since the huge posters of the earlier era’s Bollywood icons were conspicuously missing. But the guard with the huge moustache (himself an icon of sorts by now) is still there. 🙂

    We got a decent table, and were given the usual heavy menu card (i always wonder if its anything to do with the prices 😉 ). Anyway, we decided to skip the shorba and starters, and went for the main course. Departing from the regular 2 non-veg custom, we ordered a Khatta Meethe Aloo (“sauteed potato in an earthy jaggery and tamarind gravy”), a Kadai Murgh Patiala (“boneless pieces of chicken sauteed and simmered in its own juices, then tossed in kadai masala. From the royal house of Patiala”) and to go with it, an onion kulcha and a plain roti. We also ordered a mixed raita.

    The aloo dish was made with baby potatoes, tilted towards the sweet side, and had a very thick gravy, but it was good nevertheless. The chicken was very well made, with an excellent gravy and though I’ve always had an egg involved wherever else I’ve had this dish, I would still recommend it highly. No complaints on the bread. The raita, though wasn’t great. It was diluted a bit too much, and hey, I just realised, you didn’t give me boondi!!!

    A few things you should check out. Bombay Post has a huge choice of kababs,  their Dal makhani is one of the best I’ve had, and i’d have liked to check out the lal/hari mirch ki roti. They also have an assortment of north indian desserts, but hey, there’s a Corner House in the same building. 😉

    The service was excellent, and all of the above cost us Rs.838, including the service charge. I suspect the Rs.70 mineral water (for 1 litre!!) made a significant contribution. 😐

    Bombay Post, Carlton Towers, Airport Road, Bangalore, Karnataka 560008, 080 41113939

  • A Matter of life and death

    It is not about death. That is a process that starts as soon as we’re born. It is the reminders of mortality that has led to my aversion for hospitals. Mangled body parts, groans of suffering that beg me to put the sick person out of his misery. Painful messages that tell me that I’m really not in control.
    It is not about control. That is a process that stops as soon as we’re born, or perhaps way before that. It is the reminders of the hands that decide my destiny that nauseate me. Faces begging for answers as to why it had to happen to them. It warns me of age, and a clock ticking somewhere.
    It is not about death. It is about groping frustratingly for answers that seem to elude me. It is about wondering if I have missed my destiny, and wondering if everything I experience is a clue to something that I’m missing, and the futility that I’d experience if I kept missing them. For, it is when I walk through hospital corridors, that I painfully see the possibilities- physical and mental wrecks of what were once, human beings, it is then I realize that it’s life I’m afraid of.

    Until next time, live