Food is usually linked to memory. This isn’t an
original idea and to many people the food that I’ve chosen is barely memorable,
just as most people won’t really be able to speak of great cheese sandwiches or
fried eggs and not mean a specific meal instead of the entire selection of eggs
or sandwiches.
Dosa is a simple meal which can be ready in a matter
of minutes. I usually explain it as a savoury crepe made of rice and lentil
flour. It is served with sambar (a
lentil and tamarind stew) and coconut chutney.
The best dosa I’ve ever had is at Dosa Mahal in
Toronto. It was the first time I’d had dosa in almost two years and that was
probably why it remained in my mind as a representation of the best. It’s impossible
to untangle the experience of food from the taste only. The taste is linked to
history. It’s a common enough trope that even children’s movies like Ratatouille can use the idea that a
simple dish which evokes memories of childhood will have deeper and almost
spiritual resonance than extremely complex and difficult dishes.
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| Dosa at Dosa Mahal ( Toronto, Canada) |
Dosa used to be another food that was linked to
specific memories of a time and place. Just as deep fried tofu always reminds
me of my last few months in Trinidad and cheese croissants remind me of my
first trip to The Netherlands; dosa was inextricably linked to my Christmas in
India.
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| Dosa at Dosa World, (Kochi, India.) |
I say was
because my memories of dosa are no longer limited to India. Over the past year
those recollections have become mixed with other memories. Now dosa represents
meals in Malaysia, Paris and most strongly, in Wembley. It has overtaken almost
other meals as my comfort food. Primarily due to it being a relief to find it.
Because even in places where finding vegetarian food was close to impossible
(like Penang), dosa could be managed to be found as an option.
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| Dosa at Aachi Chettinad (Wembley, England) |
Despite being primarily of Tamil descent, dosa was
nothing something I was familiar with growing up. In Trinidad, Indian culture
lacks regional differentiation despite the varied backgrounds of people of East
Indian descent. I grew up with Trinidadian versions of Indian staples such as puri and paratha but breakfast never involved any kind of Indian roti except
sada roti.
I do not miss sada
or doubles at all, despite having not had any since I migrated two years
ago. Thinking about these foods do not cause me to wish for them. I have rarely
been able to think of dosa without wishing it was available in close proximity.
Now that it is, I rarely think of it without buying it shortly afterward.
The simplicity of this food allows it to be ready to
be eaten very shortly after I’ve decided I want to eat it. It’s another
candidate for strengthening my belief that fast food can be good if not bought
from chains (depends on the dosa vendor, of course). And by being so strongly
linked to time and place, it serves to strengthen the idea that street food is
more of a regional marker than high-end food can ever be.
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| Dosa at Govinda's (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia) |
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