Dosa Nirvana

My brother* is a South Indian Brahmin (SIB). And everyone knows what SIs in general are known for, besides speaking excellent English in bad accents and seeking curd-rice with an ache akin to that men stranded in desserts for weeks feel for water, we are also known for our love for dosas. (By the way, we as a family have the accent problem alright but it’s a Bengali one we are plagued with! Yes, we are a family with many problems). Now my brother, he is a man of discerning taste (Yes sister-in-law, you can take that bow now), and he will NOT settle for the passable, restuarant-dosa that his sister would happily devour. He will not settle for dosa batter made in a Sumeet mixie. He will not even settle for dosa batter made the authentic way by the local mami who will sell it to him at a great price. “Not sour enough!” he will say. Or at other times “Not quite airy enough”... His nose pointed skywards..almost. “It’s the ratio that’s a little off...” I’ve heard him explain at times, nose scrunched up and eyes squinting in concentration...”That is why it’ll not yield dosas that golden crispy!”

I would listen in bewilderment and some mild irritation, as he continued to explain the reasons they have a wet grinder at home. I once did the mistake of mentioning my Gits discovery in my early naïve days, when I was just finding my way around the kitchen in Chicago. And the appall that I had registered on his face continues to wake me up in a sweat even now some nights. As I shake my head and gulp down some water wondering what I had done to have let my family down so bad, to have had that look return to my consciousness, it dawns on me that some secrets are never meant to be shared with family members, however close they might be. No, blood thicker than water and all that is fine but live with caution girl!

Well anyway, earlier this year, while we were visiting them and enjoying the California sun that the inhabitants of that shorts-clad state take so much for granted, he whipped up these Amazing dosas. Yes they are Different. I had forgotten the taste of the asli-wet-grinder-wale dosas, jotting it down under Magic-that-only-Mom-weaves, I had moved on with life. A little deprived, the taste-buds a little less tingled and the heart a little more fond. But here it was again! The work involved though overwhelmed me. And I was only feigning polite interest when I remarked casually “We should get one of these.”

Now the hubby is also a SIB. In fact, he is that potent mix of Tam-ness and Brahm-ness, that I never thought I would voluntarily invite into my life. Again, though a non-resident of Tamil Nadu, his palate is predominantly SI and he is known to scoop and lap up a plateful of butter milk and rice with speed that Bruno, his German Shepard (Alsatian), used to envy. Along with being a SIB, he is also a Seizer Of Opportunities (SOO). As you will see. When we were in different cities catching up with family during our vacation in India, he casually mentioned to me on the phone that he had picked up the 110V wet grinder that “You had wanted so badly.””What?” I went. We say these things in people’s houses, but later we discuss stuff we really want...that’s normal practice, right!! And the fact that it had never again been mentioned by me after that one time, apparently did not count to this dosa-loving SIB. The true SOO does not believe in letting a single O pass by "unseized" you see.

So he lugged it back and set it up in a corner of our kitchen here in Boston. Silently. And it in turn sat there silently, slowly guilting me into making the dosas, and the idlis. And the uttapams. I am afraid I am very close to succumbing to the vadas soon. This weekend maybe. Have to soak the dal tomorrow.

So the domestication of Gabby continues. Successfully. The hubby can tell you all about it. Later. At the moment his mouth is full of chutney. But he does pause to tell me to check the vada recipe. “Ask your Mom” he says. “Or your brother.”

* The same one who made a short appearance a long while ago and then politely left. But that does not mean he is nowhere in our vicinity, he can be quite the lurker, when he wants to!