Before the Midnight, in the Luru!

Chef Dhruv Oberoi, who has just opened a new restaurant in Bengaluru, maps out his ideal 12 hours in the city that codes by the day but eats exceptionally well by night…

By Dhruv Oberoi

Bengaluru is a city that refuses to choose one identity. By the day, it runs like a start-up engine. Step outside the VC meetings though, wade through traffic that tests everyone’s patience, and you find another

city that has quietly built an exciting food scene. While founders may pitch million-dollar ideas over filter kaapi, or at a Darshini, over flips of benne dosa, chefs, bartenders and diners in this city are also flipping the script! Rewriting rules– one tasting menu, and cocktail at a time. Breakfasts stretch into coffee crawls, lunches feel like home, and dinners often begin somewhere between a brewery and a cocktail bar before unfolding across the city. In true Bengaluru fashion, the night usually ends with dessert—or another drink. Locals will casually ask “Oota aitha?” (Have you eaten?) a question that sums up the city perfectly. In Bengaluru, the answer is almost always yes… but we could eat again.

Degrees of kaapi

In Bengaluru, mornings begin with coffee. Real coffee. The kind that drips patiently through a steel filter before landing in a tumbler. I’ll start at Sendhoor Coffee, their degree coffee arrives in a classic steel tumbler and dabarah, poured theatrically back and forth while building the signature froth. One sip and suddenly the day feels manageable.

The Benne pilgrimage

Soon someone says, “Banni, dosa tinnona” (come, let’s eat dosa)! At Bengaluru Cafe the benne dosa arrives crisp and glistening with butter. But the real pilgrimage is of course Vidyarthi Bhavan. Opened in 1943, this legendary spot has fed generations of students, artists, politicians, and now curious tech founders. The dosa is thick, buttery, slightly caramelised, served with coconut chutney locals treat with near-religious devotion. The queue can stretch an hour, but strangely no one complains, neither do we.

Oota is serious

I’d go to Kappa Chakka Kandhari, for all things Kerala– order

kappa, tapioca, with a curry, transformed into a deeply comforting meal. For something iconic, I’ll choose the Shivaji Military Hotel, and go for their famous donne mutton biryani that arrives in a leaf, fragrant with spices, ghee, and tender meat. And if you love spice, Nagarjuna is the place for a fiery Andhra meal.

Bakery break

As the sun dips behind campuses, the bakeries come alive. At Albert Bakery, the meat samosa arrives crisp and deeply spiced. Nearby, Fatima Bakery serves legendary mutton puffs, buttery pastry hiding a rich peppery filling. These bakeries are remnants of Bengaluru’s old Irani and Muslim bakery culture.

Pre-game

As I shut my laptop someone inevitably says, “shall we go for a drink”? At The Bierre Club, try their ragi ale. Millet.

But make it beer. For cocktails, I like Sama. One standout drink there features timur— the citrusy Himalayan cousin of Sichuan pepper. It tingles, then blooms into

bright citrus notes. Two cocktails later, the philosopher mode activated. At Dali & Gala, bowls of mala noodles bring the heat while pornstar martinis keep any table lively.

Dinner’s when the city shows off…

Dinner in Bengaluru is where the city flexes. This is where chefs loosen the apron strings and start cooking the food they actually want to cook. At Navu, the

menu feels like a chef’s notebook left open on the counter. Rib-eye carpaccio sliced thin as paper, mustard ice cream that shouldn’t work, but somehow does and a carbonara that politely ignores geography. It’s playful, confident cooking. Rules are acknowledged, then gently broken. For something more rooted, Bangalore Oota Company takes you in the opposite direction, towards memory. The Gowda meal arrives quietly, rice, saaru, palya, kosambari. Nothing flashy. Just flavours that taste like someone’s grandmother still runs the kitchen. Comfort food with deep cultural muscle. Then there’s 23rd Street Pizza. Order the Goodfellas pizza, pour a chilled glass of Lambrusco, and watch a table of strangers slowly become friends.

A grand finale

At Corner House, generations have surrendered to Death by Chocolate. Sticky tables. Happy faces. Pure nostalgia. At Magnolia Bakery, the tres leches is soft,

milky comfort. And at Lick, the bold chilli- raspberry sorbet is slightly rebellious and very Bengaluru. This city rarely sleeps early. Post dessert, try the silky Pipi Martini at Soka. Then slide into

Bar Double Down for an Irish coffee cocktail and dangerously addictive chicken-skin chips. End the night at Bar Spirit Forward with a smoky Palo Santo cocktail and bottle- masala pork bun.

And somewhere between the last drink and the ride home, someone will inevitably say “Innu swalpa irona” (Let’s

stay a little longer).