It was a warm October afternoon, but the sweat pouring from our brows was generated by heat from the fiery fish curry. Our group of 50 and 60 somethings from Delhi, Singapore and Bengaluru was sprawled under the thatch roof of the “Smoke Fish Café”, a grand name for what was essentially four plastic tables and a rough concrete floor …
As I watch the early October rains and feel the sweep of cool winds, I remember one reason why we stick with Bengaluru, a city otherwise devastated by avarice and neglect, its former sprawl of trees, lakes and parks consumed by construction and sewage. I have a bountiful collection of spice mixes and there is a particular fish masala that …
