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Fenny’s Lounge And Kitchen

115, 3rd Floor, 7th Block, Opposte Raheja Arcade, Koramangala, Bangalore

Ph: 080 6565 8000

Timings: 11:30AM to 11:30PM

Map: Click Here

I’ve never seen a tree in a bar before, and that too a humongous one, like the one next to our table, and it’s not the only one, there’s a Topiary Ficus, a little distance away which is 80 years old. And this begs the question. What’s a 80 year old tree (and it’s companions) doing on the 3rd  floor of Raheja Arcade, and how in heaven’s name did it get there?

These are good questions to ponder, as you gaze at the wraparound bottle display around the bar counter, which the owners claim to be in the running for the most number of bottles in a display.

Fenny’s as the name would suggest has a Goan feel to it, and is designed on the lines of a large beach shack, albeit a beach shack on the 4th floor of a building. It stays true to it’s design by being open from 3 sides, and we were fortunate enough that it wasn’t raining that night, but I can imagine that when it does rain, the wind and the water are going to make customers beat a hasty retreat to huddle around the bar.

I’m here for an after work drink with our Bangalore team, and there’s an alumni of our bar tending school (Tulleeho Bartending Academy), who’s hard at work at Fenny’s, but he’s not bold enough to tell us what goes in to Fenny’s secret mix, which features in several of the cocktails on the menu. The most he can tell us is that it’s a non alcoholic mix. Intrigued all the same, we order a Fenny’s Mai Tai, a London Sour and a Peter Pan, and a mix of pizzas, from their wood fired oven, the BBQ Chicken, the Beef and the Lamb and sun dried tomato. The Pizzas were very good, but the cocktails when they made their appearance, were a touch over sweet.

Fenny’s has a young crowd, with a mix of ages from 20 something to 35. The music was a medley of songs, from the 60’s to the 90’s. Given it’s Club Med meets Baga beach look, we would have expected possibly a more  reggae feel to it. My colleagues, disappointed by the first cocktail, shift to beer and Old Monk and coke. I decide to stay the course, and order a Vicky Donor. Hoping that it doesn’t contain Vicky’s seeds, I sit and listen to Scatman John, moaning away about his days as a taxi driver in Calcutta. I am thinking, Fenny’s is worth a revisit when it’s raining.


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