Around India In 80 Trains

After two months of dosas for breakfast, dhal and rice for lunch and a variation of fried meats and curries for dinner we were shamelessly craving something bland and grilled, baked or steamed. Thankfully after a random wander around Fort Mumbai we came across the Mocambo Cafe which I could have sworn was one of Gregory David Roberts' haunts in Shantaram, but I could be wrong. Anyway, it certainly served our purpose and at 5.30pm was full of Indians devouring chocolate brownies, reading the papers or twirling spaghetti around forks and nattering.

For once we didn't feel like we'd come across another horrid little Lonely Planet-infested traveller stop and the cosy little corner cafe, with signatures scribbled all over the walls, felt like the perfect place.

Their menu was packed full of pastas, pizzas, roast chicken, grilled steaks with bearnaise sauce, garlic prawns and an array of thick and creamy milkshakes - so we just went mental. The scampi was a lovely, well-sized starter for two with a drippy chilli sauce on the side, and my rich carbonara just hit the mournful spot in my tummy, while Passepartout's steak, although a godsend, was overdone - Indians don't get the concept of doing any piece of meat in any form other than cremated.

Overall, the atmosphere was buzzing and cheerful, everyone minded their own business and the food was proper, non-Indianised continental. Great when you're just that tiny bit homesick.