Most urban middle class families are familiar with the concept of “Gastronomic Intemperance”. It doesn’t matter if you belong to the middle class and are yet unaware of its connotation. What matters is that knowingly or unknowingly, you resort to it at some point of time or the other.

And so it came to happen that I met up with a pal of mine after 4 long years at Bangalore who sweet-talked me into sponsoring an evening of food and drinks for old times sake. As we were bouncing off the various options available on MG Road, he rubbed his hands in glee and suggested that we celebrate our reunion at “Ebony” – A Resto-Bar on the 13th Floor of Barton Centre.

I should have paid heed to the warning bells clanging in my head at that instant. But no, listening to ominous signs was never a virtue of mine. The same thing happens over and again. In what I (wrongly) consider to be friendly magnanimity, I unwittingly commit myself to treating friends and all those rascals take undue advantage of me by helping themselves so much that the bill burns a deep, meteorite like abyss in my already hole-riddled pockets.

So Ebony it was. The entire 13th Floor at Barton Centre is taken up by them with a separate drinks lounge on one side and the Resto-Bar on the other side. Since we were meant to be a “family” (My friend’s GF was with us), we opted for the Restobar. We were greeted by an over-enthusiastic steward attired in a fine blue suit. To describe his method of locomotion as “Waddling” would be an affront to the entire duck species.

On asking him to usher us to a table for 3, he pointed to the “Reserved” placards placed strategically on 80% of the tables. And the rest were all occupied. Seeing us a trifle disappointed, he volunteered to do us a huge favour by giving us seats in the huge balcony (with a seating capacity of 100+). No sooner did we sit at our table that the skies opened up. Clang, Clang!

We were now caught in a quandary. We couldn’t afford to sit out and risk getting drenched in the rain. At the same time, we had nowhere else to go. Luckily, there was a tarpaulin cover as a retractable roof but since the winds were too strong, our friendly host said that they couldn’t risk opening them more than 1/4th their reach lest they snap into two. As a consolation, our table was to one secluded corner and the chairs were well cushioned and comfortable.

As a result of my past karmas and on account of His Holiness, Sri Doss Maharaj’s benevolent blessings, the rain Gods relented and we began our evening of fun and frolic. The menu card boasts of all local and internationally renowned alcoholic beverages and as I was on the verge of muttering “Johnnie Walker”, the bells went off again. We started off with 2 large pegs of Smirnoff instead and a spicy “Chicken Golconda”. In between, the rain Gods continued to play their hide-and-seek games.

The booze flowed like H2O and the poor departed Chicken was delicious to say the least. We also tried out “Sheekh Kebabs” and “Veg Chilly”, both of which were extremely enjoyable. A cursory glance around revealed the presence of Rahul Dravid (minus his bride) but strangely, there were no hush hush whispers nor intruding pests for his autographs. The view from where we sat was truly breathtaking (both in the metamorphic and literal sense). Being situated atop one of the tallest structures in Bangalore, it gave us a birds’ eye view of half the city with clouds overhead and city lights all around.

We moved on to the main course and feasted on some sumptuous Punjabi food, probably the best I’ve tasted in Bangalore. Our steward kept checking in on us every 15 minutes or so to ensure that our glasses and plates were never empty. Despite being fully occupied, the “Cookers” in the kitchen were very efficient and seldom was it that more than 15 minutes lapsed between the time we placed the order and it was delivered at our table. By the time we realized it, we had drowned 18 pegs of vodka and spent 3 hours catching up on each others welfare.

By the time I called for the Cheque, the bells began their perfunctory function, though a bit muted this time under the influence of alcohol. The final tally came to a whopping Rs. 3300 which I felt was a bit too high but considering that it was one of the more affluent restaurants in town, felt that it might have been justified. What mattered more was that we had a great evening and for a change we were drowning our joys instead of our sorrows.

Thus Spake TiC
The restaurant exudes congenial radiations and the service staff is very helpful, especially when it comes to suggesting what food to try out. Needless to say, we left the entire choice of food to them and were never disappointed.

The food is quite varied and to the best of my knowledge, offers the choice of Chinese, North and South Indian and Continental cuisines. There isn’t much to talk about the décor because we were sitting outdoors. I can only say that the clouds with stars trying to peep out of them made for a pretty sight.

An enlightened dipsomaniac once remarked in a state of drunken stupor that the “size” of the bill is directly proportional to the number of pegs drowned and inversely proportional to ones state of abstemiousness. It doesn’t take an intellectual to analyse that statement but my somnolent condition tempered the shock of the bill to a large extent.

The next time you want to gauge your index of “Gastronomic Intemperance”, check out “Ebony”. You won’t be disappointed with the results.

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