Sly Granny – The Community House
3, 4th Floor,
618, HAL 2nd Stage,
Indiranagar
Bangalore,
India
21st July, 2017
“There’s no place like home… (except Grandma’s)“
“Grandma’s house – Where cousins become best friends“
“You can’t buy happiness, but you can go to Grandma’s house and that’s pretty much the same thing“
You’ve just got to love the internet. Anything you wish to search for (Fleur-de-Lis) is right there, readily available, with just a click of a button or a crunch of a few keys. Par exemple, Grandma’s house quotes. The internet is packed with them. Much akin to how supermarket stores in the United States are packed with people on Black Friday. The general consensus seems to be that Grandma’s house is the place to be.
So why is it that, despite all of the favourable reviews of Grandma’s house (like there’s only one!), the first thought that pops into my head when the phrase ‘Grandma’s house’ is uttered, is that of a Big Bad Wolf wearing elderly apparel, cuddled up under a bed sheet, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Girl with the Red Hood (a new Stieg Larsson novel?). The everlasting effect of children bedtime stories is what I would put my money on. Speaking of, I thought it a welcome change to shape the following review in the mould of these children bedtime stories. Only time will tell whether the story of my visit to Bangalore’s own Grandma’s house is more a Dr. Seuss tale than a Brothers Grimm classic.
Once upon a time, there lived a family – just an ordinary family – in a quaint little colony, located deep inside the bustling city of Bangalore (Bengaluru). On one rainy, sultry evening, they found their fridge to be devoid of any cooked food. So, they decided to venture into town, braving the congested roads, in search for food. Similar to the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, the choices (of restaurants) were aplenty. Some of them were too expensive, some of them were too far, some of them had already been visited by the family earlier that year, and one was just right.
The One That Was Just Right – sounds like the title of one of the episodes on Friends, right? Well, it wasn’t! The one that was just right, in fact, turned out to be Sly Granny – a grandmother’s house (hence the name!) that had been renovated to resemble a London gastro-pub, circa 1950. What happened to the grandmother? Your guess is as good as mine! Though, if I were a betting man, I would put my money on the theory that she probably thought it a good investment, and as a means to fund her annual summer vacations to the Maldives.
The family had come to an accordance amongst themselves that they would try and reach Sly Granny by half past seven in the evening. However, the weather and traffic conditions had other ideas. The slight drizzle, which seemingly continues to puzzle and perplex even the most seasoned drivers in Bangalore, was enough to delay their arrival by half an hour. It was at eight o’clock in the evening (or is it night by then?) when the family arrived at the restaurant. Located on the fourth floor, Sly Granny was truly living up to its name, as the door was absent of any name plate. Instead, they had to turn around and read an unusual guide to granny’s house – an open scroll sealed inside a glass encasement.
Once the guide had been read, the family made their way through the black door. No sooner had they done that than they were transported to an early twentieth century British pub. The servers were dressed up in European/British attire, and the decor screamed “The Diogenes Club”, albeit noisier and cramped. The family enquired about the availability of a table, and the server responded in the affirmative. As they made their way to their table, they noticed how compact the dining room was, how very close the tables were to each other, only emphasized by the size of the armchairs. The family was handed the menu cards promptly and were left to make their decision.
Tick tock, tick tock! The hands on the clock began to turn, as the family pondered on the dishes they would like to sample. It was ten minutes later, when the server arrived, that the family was ready to place their order. “I’ll have the Chicken Mole Enchiladas and a Thai Lemonade” said the daughter (not to the fly). “I’ll have the Bruschetta and Tomato and a Thai Lemonade as well” said the son. “We’ll have the Lentil Croquettes, one Pineapple Water, and an Old Monk” said the parents. The server smiled as he took down the family’s order, and swiftly took the same to the kitchen.
“Is it just me or is it really hot in here?” asked the son. The family did realize that it wasn’t only the son. The room suddenly became quite warm and stuffy, and it became worse as people began entering the dining room. There was definitely something in the air tonight, and it wasn’t cool! (Oh lord!) The drinks were the first to arrive, soon followed by the appetizers. The first dish to be tasted was the Bruschetta & Tomato. “The topping is delicious. Love the cherry tomatoes, the capers, and the cheese.” said the son. “However, the bruschetta could be slightly more crispier.” The next dish was the Lentil Croquettes. “They’re nice, but they are a little too salty for my taste.” the mother said. “They’re quite filling too. I don’t think I can finish the entire thing. Would you like to have a bite?” “No.” said the daughter, shaking her head. “I have the enchiladas to finish. They are quite nice, but then again I love Mexican food.” She smiled. “I’m not a huge fan of the mole sauce.” said the son. “There’s something that tastes quite weird in the sauce. Though the chicken is quite nice and moist inside.”
Despite their stomachs half-full (being an optimist), the family decided to push through and order their main course. “I’ll have the Grilled Chicken.” “I’ll have the Lamb and Gnocchi.” “I’ll have the Masaman Curry.” “I’ll have the Bangers and Mash.” said each of the family members to the same smiling server.
“Phew! The place seems to get cooler now.” noticed the son. “I think they’ve just turned on the air condition.” said the father, looking up at the vents. The restaurant no longer felt like a sauna, and the sweat that began to form on the family members’ foreheads evaporated instantly. The main course arrived, save for the Grilled Chicken. “Wow, these portions are huge. I don’t know how I’m going to get through all of that.” said each family member, as they stared at their plates. “I guess I’ve got to get used to this kind of food where I’m going.” said the son, looking at his plate of sausages and mashed potatoes. He carves a piece of sausage, spreads the mash on the fork, and places it in his mouth. “Not bad.” “The mashed potatoes are well-seasoned and creamy. The sausages have that crispiness to them, but there’s something on that plate, which I am not a fan of, and it nearly ruins the entire dish for me.” That something was the grain mustard, which when placed near the sausage, looked utterly unappetizing and unpleasant (like a skin disease!).
“I don’t think I can finish this. This is massive.” said the mother as she stared at not one, but three (!!!) plates that were placed in front of her. The Masaman Curry, a vegetable rich curry served with a gargantuan portion of Kerala red rice. She poured the gravy from the bowl on to her plate, and proceeded to eat. She was only half way through her dish, when she pushed aside her plate and said “I’ve had enough. My stomach is really full.” The Grilled Chicken arrived. Served on a plate painted in granite colours, the chicken breasts (left on the bone) were placed on a bed of white potato puree surrounded by a handful of sautéed vegetables. “Quite nice. I like the sautéed vegetables, and the chicken is cooked well. Nice and succulent.” “Well worth the wait?” asked the son. “I think so. I don’t see anything wrong with the dish.” replied the daughter. “What about you, dad?” asked the son. “Are you done?” The plate of Lamb and Gnocchi, sat in front of the father, was half full. “Yea! I didn’t like it. The lamb was too salty and I wasn’t a huge fan of the Gnocchi.”
“Are you done with your dishes?” enquired the server. “Yes. Thank you.” replied the father. The server, smiling, cleared the plates off the table. The hand went up into the air, and the signal for the check was sent. The bill arrived, the bill was paid, and the family pushed their way through the black door once again. They lived happily ever after.
Grandma’s home was said to be the place to be. Where all of your wishes would come true. If you wish for a cramped up dining room, with minimal air conditioning, and just above average food, then Sly Granny is the place to be. If not, then I would tell you what I told Little Red Riding Hood. “Maybe it’s best not to visit Grandma today.”