Saturday 8th February - Eat yourself Bengali

Another warm, sunny day in Bangalore. D braves crossing the road against the rush hour traffic to recover the laundry. Beautifully folded and presented, but about eight times the price of our last dhobi. After giving the shops time to open we venture out. No Radinja trip really gets going until we hit Big Bazaar, sort of Wilko's meets Matalan with a food section. We have a list and tick it off in double quick time - a top up of loungewear, some snacks and, most essential, a bag of 'Orange Bite' boiled sweets. Just for the record the fact that we bought Congress Peanuts is not a political statement. You never know who might be looking in.

We have a lunch appointment today but we are ahead of schedule and opt for a cuppa. Last year we were most impressed by the FabIndia Cafe on MG Road so we go again. They flaunt their organic credentials everywhere and appear to be India's leading lights in the slow food movement. Only one table is occupied when we arrive and nobody comes in after us, but it takes an age for our order to be taken and another age for a cup of tea and a black coffee to be delivered. The drinks are good but time is starting to press. D asks for the bill while R goes to look around the store. "There is a system problem sir. Five minutes". Somebody else arrives to fiddle with the sale terminal, disappears and returns with a written receipt book. Then they disappear again and return with a calculator. Between asking for the bill and paying takes 20 minutes. Less than impressive.

We are now in danger of being late. We march back to the digs at the double, pick up some essentials and go out to flag an auto. The first two don't seem to understand us, the third is keen, offers a price but then doesn't seem to know where to go. Google maps comes to the rescue and D is able to give directions from the back seat. The clock ticks away but expert navigation gets us to our target bang on time at 12.30.

No visit to Bangalore can be considered complete without a lunch date with Pitter Patter. This year she has selected a small restaurant called Kitchen of Joy, that serves the sort of food that she thinks we should eat in Kolkata. We occupy a pavement table and spend half an hour in greetings, catching up and exchanging gifts. D discovers that his camera's lens filter is cracked, presumably as a result of yesterday's drop. Not a big problem as there is a spare in the luggage.

PP orders for us all. To start we have shingara, Devilled eggs, Vegetable chop and a large, flat paratha thingy stuffed with chicken and cut into squares. We have Lebu Cha to drink - Bengali lemon tea with black salt. It is all good. For a main course we have luchis served with chicken in a spicy gravy. Once again we make a mess, eating with our fingers. To follow we have lovely sweet Mishti Doi and nibble at a rosogalla. The spelling may be a bit off but we established a few years back that all Bengali vowels sound the same.

From lunch we adjourn to the Toit, a hostelry of previous acquaintance. We even get the same table that we had on our visit last year. They brew beer on site here and it is very passable. The two ladies get thick as thieves in intense conversation and admiration of wedding photos. D weighs up the draught menu and opts for the IPA, which turns out to be excellent. If there was to be a criticism it would be that a few more hops were needed. At refill time the waiter points out the specials, a Scottish Ale and Namma Beeru, made with millet and jaggery. Taster glasses of each are provided and the millet beer gets the thumbs up. The Scottish is a bit too sweet and malty for D's palate. Research later shows it to be a "Wee Heavy" barley wine style 6.8% headbanger.

We decline further refills, settle up and stroll round to Indira Nagar Metro Station. It has been really great to see PP again and get an Indian perspective on auto drivers, fancy modern metros, mortality and dozens of other subjects. On the short ride home a polite young man gives his seat up for R. Back at the ranch we decide that we are too full to need supper and opt for a night in with a book and a mug of cocoa. The Congress Peanuts turn out to be pretty spicy.