I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I live so that I may eat.
I work, I earn money and I have what arguably passes for a career so that I may partake of victuals from the world over. And so, dear reader, when I discover a new joint that serves good food, it gives me immense joy to share that happy discovery with you.
And my cup of joy positively brimmeth over when I realize that said new joint is not all that far from where I stay. Perfection, done just so.
The joint in question, to be honest with you, isn’t actually all that new. It’s been around for a while, but it is only recently that I happened to finally visit it. But the visit, and that’s what today’s column is all about, was entirely worth it.
Malgudi Days is the name of the place, and it is located on Baner Road. Google Maps does a very good job of getting you there with inch perfect precision, and as you are about to find out, a trip is entirely worth it. Insider tip: visit on a weekday morning. Which is what we did, and we had the entire place all to ourselves.
They serve lunch and dinner too, apparently, but that’s not what you should go there for. To be fair, we didn’t have anything from that section of the menu – but I find it difficult to believe that it could be better than what we did have.
We started with the upma, and I am happy to report that things were off to a bright start.
Light, fluffy and hot, the upma promised of more good food to come, and it wasn’t lying, by god. For the second dish on our table was the famed Mangalore Bun, and oh boy oh boy. Plump, crisp and beguiling, the Bun was just the thing for a rainy morning. Sweetish bun, paired with a vegetable stew that was masterful in its restraint is conclusive proof of how advanced a place Mangalore must be.
We then moved on to masala vadas (fantastic) and the butter adai dosa (ditto). I am happy to report that the gourmand who masquerades as your columnist also tried – for the sake of science, you understand – a butter sada dosa (not bad, but not the best I’ve had) and a thatte idli (also not bad).
The meal was rounded off, in accordance with the constitutional requirements of being an Indian citizen, with two uniformly excellent cups of filter coffee.
A noticeably plumper, but definitively happier columnist was then seen exiting the premises of the restaurant around an hour or so after he had been spotted trundling in. On his positively beatific visage was a rather large smile, for entirely understandable reasons.
He must have been thinking, no doubt, of the deep sense of pleasure he would experience on sharing his experiences with his readership.
And, he’ll happily admit, there may even have been a contented burp to serve as a rather fitting coda to the whole thing.
Well, two codas, if you want me to not lie – but who’s counting?
He doesn't expect the paradox to be resolved in his lifetime