Bengaluru serving nostalgia on a plate with its timeless eateries

As the city lights up for Deepavali, Bengaluru's old eateries still draw crowds. What indeed is the recipe for their longevity? Deepa Natarajan Lobo explores five such iconic restaurants that serve stories, warmth, and nostalgia amid the season's glittering new indulgences to understand why they continue to outlast every fancy culinary trend

Not too long ago, before Instagrammable cafés took over Bengaluru’s culinary scene with smoothie bowls, sourdoughs and matchas, the city had its own flavourful rhythm. On packed Sunday mornings, Bengalureans queued up outside Koshy’s for its signature appams and stew, or crossed the road to the leafy Airlines for a piping hot vada dipped in sambar and a glass of bisi-bisi filter coffee.

Lunch might mean a dash to Shivaji Military Hotel or Khazana for an unbeatable biryani, followed by the sweet tang of Sulaimani chai at Mecca or Savera. Evenings were for pitchers of beer and masala peanuts at Pecos or kebabs at The Imperial.

These weren’t just meals — they were rituals. Chilly twilight gatherings, Sunday brunches, and conversations that lingered longer than the meals themselves. Before global flavours and moody lighting took centre stage, old Bengaluru’s palate was painted with sizzlers, fish and chips, coastal curries, and fiery Andhra thalis — the city’s original comfort food, served with a side of nostalgia. Decades later, many of these legendary eateries continue to welcome diners, dishing out their time-honoured classics and keeping the city’s culinary memories alive.

Slower, tech-free times

Among the stalwarts stands Shezan on Cunningham Road, a beloved spot that began humbly in the outhouse of a Lavelle Road bungalow in the late 80s. “We catered for parties, especially those at the nearby clubs,” recalls Altaf Ahmed, who helms the restaurant today.

It was a slower, tech-free Bengaluru then, a city small enough for everyone to know everyone. Altaf’s family won hearts across neighbourhoods with their pepper steaks, lamb chops, and mutton biryani, before setting up the restaurant in 1989. “Families came from all over — we shared personal relationships with each of our customers and knew their tastes by heart,” he says.

In a skyline now dominated by glass towers, Barton Centre on MG Road was among the first to rise — the OG, as Gen Z would say. And perched atop it was Ebony, which opened in the early 90s and soon became a crowd favourite for its butter chicken, kebabs, and sweeping city views.

Third-generation owner Nakul Rajaram believes consistency is Ebony’s secret sauce. “We’re a boring place — same music every day, same menu for 20 years,” he jokes. “But that’s why people trust us. Our chefs could make butter chicken by muscle memory.” Most of the staff have stayed for over two decades, and Nakul proudly knows around 300 customers by name. Post-pandemic, Ebony merged the best of its three restaurant menus into one, a move that resonated instantly. “We don’t rely on gigs or happy hours — our customers are our biggest influencers,” he smiles.

Twist of fate

The Only Place’s story began in 1965, when Haroon Sulaiman Sait converted his bungalow’s servant quarters into the Regent Guest House on Brigade Road. “In post-independence India, many Peace Corps workers stayed with us. They found Indian food too spicy, so my grand-uncle began experimenting with milder fare — pancakes, waffles, eggs, and later, steaks,” says Faraz Ahmed, third-generation owner.

The name itself was born out of whimsy — a Japanese guest doodled lips on a napkin and wrote ‘The Only Place’ underneath. “The name just stuck,” laughs Faraz.

In the late 80s, as the old bungalow gave way to Mota Royal Arcade, the restaurant moved to Museum Road, where it continues to thrive. Faraz and his father, Mohammed Hassan, remain hands-on, greeting guests and ensuring nothing leaves the kitchen less than perfect.

The menu’s timeless favourites — Chateaubriand, filet mignon, fish and chips, chicken specials, lasagna, and those famed pies — still surprise even old patrons. “It’s the way we source, marinate, and care for every cut that keeps them coming back,” says Faraz.

A sense of pride

For Desmond Rice, hospitality has always been more vocation than business. Before running the iconic Prince’s and Knock-Out Disco on Brigade Road in the 80s, he managed Blue Fox in the late 70s — one of the city’s earliest watering holes.

In 1989, Desmond and his partner Ashok Batla opened Tycoons on Infantry Road, serving steaks, sizzlers, and continental bakes that became the talk of the town. “There were very few places then — you could count them on your fingers,” he recalls. “We grew fast. Everyone wanted to be here.”

After 15 years, Tycoons closed in 2004, but Desmond soon opened Desmonds on Lavelle Road and later Koramangala, both hugely popular through the 2000s. A decade later, he revived Tycoons in Indiranagar, where loyal diners still return for bacon-wrapped prawns and chicken à la Kiev. “It’s our regulars — and their nostalgia — that keep us going,” he says.

Culinary landmark

No conversation about old Bengaluru eateries is complete without mentioning Koshy’s, the city’s culinary cathedral since 1940. “My grandfather was a banker,” says Prem Koshy. “But after losing his job during World War II, he stayed back and began baking bread for the Army — one of the few Indians to do so.”

A suggestion from Rev Canon Elphick, principal of Bishop Cotton Boys’ School, to open a restaurant to support St Mark’s Church led to the birth of Koshy’s. From then on, it fed everyone — from locals and litterateurs to the Maharaja of Mysore and the Queen of England.

The present Koshy’s on St Mark’s Road opened in 1952, followed by a bakery in Richmond Town. Long before continental cuisine became fashionable, it was here that Bengaluru first tasted it.

Appams and stew, mutton cutlets, fish biryani, curry rice, and prawn curry — every dish carries the weight of memory. “Thousands of plates leave our kitchen every day. Some families have been dining here for five generations. Wherever they go, they return,” says Prem with quiet pride.

Pulse of progress

From sleepy town to global hub, Bengaluru has reinvented itself — and its foodscape along with it. Today’s diners are more travelled, curious and discerning. “Shows like MasterChef have taught people about cuts, doneness, and steak culture,” says Faraz. But for these old-timers, the secret to survival lies in soul, not sizzle. “We don’t worry about competition,” says Altaf. “Our loyal customers are our strength.” Nakul agrees: “You can have the best location, but if your food doesn’t deliver, people won’t come back.” Incidentally, the owners of Bengaluru’s old restaurants meet up often and share ideas and thoughts both.

Desmond echoes the sentiment: “Our menu hasn’t changed in 35 years — it’s good food, warm service, and a genuine welcome that keeps people returning.”

And at Koshy’s, the philosophy is much the same — a legacy steeped in food, friendship, and family. “At the heart of it, we’re all one big family,” says Prem. “And when you treat people like family, they keep coming back.”