Thread coming up. A Bangalore food walk (my pitch to Live Mint).

I had been in Paris, a culinary wasteland for the Indian palate - save for Gare du Nord's iconic Saravana Bhavan. but now I was coming home to my beloved Bangalore, the best place to get authentic South Indian delicacies. It had been a while.

As I wheeled my trusted Rimowa trolley bag out of the new airports gleaming facade, it struck me that I was returning to a city in transition. Traditional Hatti coffee jostled with Starbucks, a symbol of the growing high tech city.
"Do they accept bitcoin?" I smilingly mused.

I eschewed the disruptive Uber and its scrappy Indian rival Ola, settling for a tout's City Taxi. A reminder of my younger days, when haggling with auto drivers was an irritant. how I wished I could do that with the black taxis of London, or the yellow NYC cabs fast disappearing.

"Take me to the most authentic idli dosa place where the natives sup" I commanded Manjunath in my now-broken Canarese.

He broke out into a huge grin and said "Ok saar." And we drove straight to Vidyarthi Bhavan (Student House). A veritable mecca for the young at heart.

Vidyarthi Bhavan is the jewel of Basavangudi, which along with the stiff upper-lipped Malleswaram, inspired RK Narayan's idyllic Shangri-la, aka Malgudi.

Its humble interior is said to have been the early board room of giants like Infosys and Flipkart.

Satiated with the rice pancakes accompanied with savory coconut dip that is locally known as "chutney", Manjunath checked me into the tony Marriott. Another reminder of a city in the flux of inter-generational transition.

I had to interest in partaking of the Marriott's Michelinesque service - preferring to mix with the hoi polloi instead. So I took a short walk to the city's intellectual hot seat- Koshys.

It was like stepping into a Merchant Ivory production, where British Raj era waiters in...

... glorious colonial livery served their new masters - the city's literati. Who coexisted with elderly British tourists desperate to recapture the glory days of their grandparents.

Koshys is the center of a unique Bangalorean phenomenon called "workoutable quizzing" - a uniquely Bangalorean spin on the British pub quizzing phenomenon. but questions did not test your knowledge, but rather your deductive skills. Think SherlockHolmes meets Magnus Magnusson

It was my lucky day. The high priest of "workoutable quizzing" himself was at the next table. Clad in a colorful kurta (an Indian kitenge), this bearded man invited me over to his table, where he was running through a power point presentation with his questions from a past quiz.

But first I had to order. Though Koshys was known to make a Fish n Chips that would put London's Compton Arms to shame, I wanted something local. Something authentic.

"Try the Keralese appam and stew. You will not find better stuff in Allupuzha, Kozhikode or Trivandrum" the man suggested.

These rice flatbreads and stew are the highlight of Koshys, who excel in cuisine from God's Own Country. Simple food from the land of tongue twister towns.

I ordered the appam and stew. But also a Caipirinha.
Kerala was where Portuguese Prospector Vasco da Gama landed after circumventing the Africas. This led to the opening of trade routes and cultural exchange.

How do I know? The quizmaster's slides were a history masterclass.

Bang opposite Koshys is KC Das. The same KC Das that took the inedible Portuguese bandel cheese in Bengal, and created the delectable Rossogolla. A neighboring Odisha contests this hotly, and the GI-tag battle that is ensuing is comparable to France and Champagne.

The quizmaster's slides were a masterclass on Portuguese invasion, on the idiosyncracies of Pointillist painters, on the Swahili origins of the cult Zombie movies, and much more. I wish I could have stayed on and on. But I had more gastronomical revelations awaiting.

I bid adieu to the quizmaster and his knowledgeable compatriots.

"Adieu" is derived from the French for "to God," they told me. And so I went. Searching for God.

Bangalore is known for its temples, churches, mosques and even a Parsi fire temple. But my next stop was ISKCON. Where I would find god not just in his idol form, but also from the Sattvic delights in the gargantuan temple's food court.

ISKCON mendicants are known everywhere from LA to Nairobi, and Aden to Adelaide, but it was in Bangalore, that this enigmatic sect exists in all its glory. Where Caltech-educated monks are equally comfortable with ancient codicils as they are with the enigmas of blockchain.

Their eggless tarts and ethica vegetarian pizzas were such that the Boulangeries of Brittany and the Pizzerias of Parma would pale in comparison.

Hindus believe that God can be found gastronomically. But enough of that. I still had to sample the hottest new trend-microbreweries.

The Arbor Brewing Company (of Ann Arbor in Michigan) is as Bangalorean as it gets. For teenagers wanting to drink away from their parents' prying eyes. And for young at heart executives in the tech sector. Think of Vidyarthi Bhavan but with strobe lights and India Pale Ale.

There are also tech journos trying to overhear conversations over the high decibel Harman-Kardons blaring Bryan Adams here. For here is where VCs struck deals with young visionaries.

Think Bay Area's Bucks where Bill Draper snapped up an early stage Yahoo (thank you Quizmaster)

Bangalore had a lot more to offer. A budding Kombucha scene, intoxicating the public policy wonks deconstructing the latest policy brief. The iPhone toting grandma, serving up Hot Chips in Jayanagar.

Rooftop artisanal Bubble Tea cafes facilitating arranged marriages in a unique blend of of old and new. Of coworking spaces and their eggless donuts perfectly tailored for their squeamishly vegetarian tenants.

And miles to go before I sleep.
Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
Shanti.