disc dosa

The pan should be hot enough now. To just the right degree. Rashi tests it by sprinkling a bit of cold water. The little droplets sizzle up as they encounter a hot flat surface and noisily bounce around, simultaneously shrinking at an alarming rate. Very soon, they vanish into a nothingness, leaving behind a final hiss and a little vapor  Rashi judges it as hot enough. She takes the batter, pours it in the pan and expertly spreads it around in a circular motion. It makes a perfectly round dosa, 15 cm in diameter and 2 mm in thickness. The batter itself has undergone a fair amount of soaking, grinding and most importantly fermenting over the last 48 hours to reach its current stage of near perfection. A few minutes later she turns the dosa over. This is a critical moment of truth. If the preceding preparation has been correct, it will show itself now. Sure enough, the whole thing comes out in one sweep and as she turns it over, it shines with a golden brown hue. She turns off the heat. Now as the pan cools at a predictable rate, the dosa will become crisp. And stiff. Like a disc. Like how Daivik prefers. Like how superman would want.

She takes the dosa to Daivik and puts it on his plate. "Here is your disc dosa", she says, sporting a satisfied smile. He gives a disinterested look, takes an ant sized bite and says "yuck". To rub in extra salt, he adds "I don't want this, I want bread".