By Sandhya Venktesh

“Ma’am, people have flown in from Cardif just to eat here today,” the rushed and bewildered waiter tells me over the resounding din. I am shocked. This is a small restaurant on the corner of Rayners Lane, an ordinary West London high street populated with Indian eateries. And yet, it’s not all that surprising either. After all, MTR is an institution. And some, like Lily Gopala, have been waiting for 30 years. “There was nothing like this when I first moved here after marriage. How I wish there was!” she exclaims. “South Indian food in particular was so hard to find.”

For the uninitiated, MTR or Mavali Tiffin Rooms has been a stalwart on the food scene in Bengaluru (or Bangalore), since it started in 1924. Started by three brothers proficient in cooking, it began as the Brahmin Coffee Club and served only coffee and idles. South India is well known its filter or “piltar” coffee. For the next 30 years the restaurant continued like this building a stellar reputation until one of the brother’s travelled to Europe to learn about how food was produced there and came back impressed with the level of hygiene.

Upon his return, this translated into him opening up the kitchens for customers to see. In fact, often to get a seat at the restaurant, you must first walk through the kitchens in which you will see countless men diligently washing, chopping and cooking. In many cases, the men were taken in as orphans, given accommodation and work as cooks in the kitchen once they grew up. It is this dedication that makes the most delicious food. And there is no a la carte. It’s a set menu. The same thing every day.

One full steel plate will give you multiple different dosas, idles, sambar, rasam, curries, chutneys, a variety of rice dishes and one glass of perfectly purple grape juice. It’s open for a few hours during the day and then it closes. It’s all part of the allure. Which would explain why on a Thursday evening at 7pm, south Indians from all over the UK had come for bite of home. There was no announcement. Just a tiny news story in a corner in Bengaluru’s leading newspaper, Deccon Chronicles. But by the power of Whatsapp, those in India spread the news fast to their friends and family in the UK. The queue snaked around the block and at one point, some impatient diners simply entered winding their way around the tables of the modestly sized location.

Oh but it was worth it. Although the restaurant in London has a menu, it is small and serves just those dishes that MTR is best known for. They say they plan to expand their offering once they have settled down more but it’s hard to imagine the restaurant will ever get a moment to breathe. North Indian food is a dime a dozen, especially in London. But those perfectly hot and fluffy idles and soft yet crispy doses bring migrants a moment of tranquility as each bite transports them back home. To the heat, the humidity, those white shirts and doodhis stretched over large hard bellies, the smell of coconut oil in thick braided plaits and that food. ಸಂಪೂರ್ಣ!