It is six months since I stayed at the Bangala, a small boutique hotel in Chettinad, and yet I remember it as if I had just awoken from a dream. The memories are of dining tables with silver cutlery, surrounded by staff in white shirts and white lungis carrying salvers and pressing more food upon hotel guests. Quail curry one moment, crab the next; the Bangala felt akin to being at the home of my Tamil grandmother who awoke at dawn to prepare enormous feasts of idlis and chicken curry if we were visiting.
The first dinner I ate at

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