It’s possible that I will die in Bangalore from overeating. Though most of the food we’re served at Mr. Das’s house is vegetarian, guests are also offered meat and fish dishes, and at least four different desserts, which are my weakness. Moreover, this happens three times a day: at 8:30 a.m., 1:30 p.m., and 8:30 p.m. Here’s last night’s (Monday’s) dinner, served after we arrived. This is a “light” meal, as the largest meal is served at midday. Starting at 12 o’clock and going clockwise, the “drumstick vegetable” (aloo datta curry: Moringa oleifera), rice, ghee (clarified butter to be put on the rice), aloo dum (potatoes and other vegetables), daal (lentils) and (middle) chicken stew. This was accompanied by mango chutney.

As an appetizer, we had puffed bread (lucchi) and fried eggplant, which when plated looked like a smiley face.

Each dish is served to you by cooks, who repeatedly press you to take refills. Can you imagine?
The selection of desserts (I had at least a bit of each). From top: rosagoola (invented by Mr. Das’s great grandfather and now a pan-Indian sweet), gulab jamun, prabhu bhog (a cottage cheese sweet), and rasmalai (sweetened cheese balls sunk in a rich, cardamon-flavored milk sauce). Go here to see the full selection of sweets. As Mr. Das assures me, “each day something new will appear.”
I can assure you that these are the highest-quality Indian sweets I’ve ever had. You may think you’ve had a gulab jamun, but unless you’ve had the one made by K. C. Das, you’ve had an inferior version.

Labanga latika (sweet flour coating around a condensed milk filling, held together with cloves):

A close up of K. C. Das’s famous rossogolla:

Lunch today was a copious affair. Top row left to right: daal, unidentified vegetable, fish stew, shrimp, unidentified vegetable, spiced paneer (Indian cheese made from yogurt). Bottom row, right to left: fried onions with poppy seeds, unidentified vegetable, chicken, and rice. There were also chappatis (flattened circular bread), as I am north Indian in my choice of starch.

My post-dinner, pre-dessert sweet, a container of K. C. Das’s famous sweetened yogurt, with a thick creamy crust on top.

A plate of assorted sweets from the Das shop, with a rossogolla at top left. They tried to make me sample all of them, but I tried about four, and only a small bit of each:

For after that, there were more jamun, rossogolla., and prabhu bhugh. The only thing that can follow this is a nap. It’s said that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but in this case what doesn’t kill me will make me fatter!

The cats are fed equally well. They get fish and chicken with rice (I’m dubious about the rice) at 7:30 a.m., along with milk that has been boiled and cooled, and then chicken again at 4 p.m. Here’s Mr. Das cooking the fish (tilapia) in the morning:

The housecat Goonda (“rowdy”), who has but one functioning eye, awaits his breakfast:

The fish, chicken, and rice are distributed among plates. Each cat gets a separate plate to prevent intercat warfare:

One of the several feeding stations on the roof. Note that there are litterboxes as well; all the cats appear to be box-trained. Many more cats appeared in the afternoon feeding.

There are about 30 cats here, both feral and residential, but most live on the roofs or outside. (At one time there were 85 cats!) About a third of the present cats have names. I persuaded Mr. Das to call one of the unnamed ones “Jerry”. He objected that that cat, a lovely black one with white paws, was a female, but I told him that “Jerry” could be a woman’s name, and showed him a photo of Jerry Hall. That did the trick.