The signage at the door proclaims MTR 1924. There is vintage memorabilia on the walls inside, but the serpentine queue of diners waiting to get in is only partly interested in history. Instead, it is the lure of “authentic” bisibele and khaara bath, of “strong” filter coffee — made from a blend that is a closely-guarded family secret — and hot dosas that have hundreds of families driving from near and far to Harrow, London, where Bengaluru’s iconic, almost 100-year-old restaurant, MTR, has just opened.
It’s late January still, only a few days since the outpost opened. Among the potential diners that evening are my friends Namrata, a Delhi girl, and her husband, Sanjeev, from Chennai, who stand awaiting their turn for about 45 minutes, before giving up. “The average wait time was one-and-half hours and a shopkeeper in the vicinity told us that people were coming from as far as Leeds, Brighton and Birmingham to eat,” Namrata later says.
