Throughout her life, my mother-in-law reigned over the kitchen, wielding the pans, ladles and tawas with a skill and finesse that the most seasoned chef would have envied. After her time, it was with a sense of trepidation that I stepped into her role and donned the mantle of cook supremo for the household.
Thankfully, living with her and observing her patterns of work for over 13 years, a small part of her skills had rubbed off on me. And, while my culinary skills may not have been awe-inspiring (like my MiL’s), they turned out to be palatable enough most of the time, and over the years I have picked up the nuances of cooking.
I continued to maintain the kitchen the way it had been set up by my MiL, since she had been structured and organised in the arrangements. I continued to use the utensils she had lovingly collected over the years, only replacing the ones that were broken or worn out.
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So, when the dosai kal (tawa) that had been in use for more than two decades started acting up, I had to take some action. I tried various tips and tricks, from the Internet and experienced friends and relatives, but it stubbornly resisted all attempts to yield good dosas. After another round of frenzied consultations and recommendations, I decided to get a non-stick tawa. It worked beautifully from Day 1 – no sticking to the surface. The dosas rose beautifully at the sides and looked good aesthetically, when put on a plate with chutney and sambar. However, the food connoisseurs at home gave it the thumbs down – it just did not taste the same as before, they declared. What was different, I probed. It’s just not the same, was all they could say. And every time dosas were served, they were eaten with exaggerated shudders and long sighs.
So I called my sister-in-law for advice. An iron one would be good, she said. It will cater to both taste and health. And best of all, she herself bought me one, sturdy and robust, ready for use. But she warned me that it would take a couple of weeks to “condition” it.
I brushed aside that advice, and with mounting excitement put it on the stove the next morning to make dosas. I dabbed oil on the tawa and spread the batter until it formed a perfect circle. I then closely watched – and watched – but the sides remained stuck to the tawa. I sprinkled some oil and with a flat spoon tried to get the dosa off the tawa. I ended up scrapping what should have been a dosa, but had now turned into an unrecognisable mess. I shoved the tawa with the remnants of the batter still stuck to it into the sink to soak in water.
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Time again for expert advice. Everyone had something to contribute, right from my son (put more oil, amma), my sister-in-law (put some onion juice and leave it overnight), my maid (whatever you do, it will take a month), my son again (let’s use it for omlettes, and if it doesn’t come out well, we can make it scrambled egg)... and so it went on. Only our dog, Choco, did not turn up his nose – he was as happy with powdered or scrambled dosa as with a whole one.
After a week of disastrous attempts, I started seeing some light at the end of the tunnel. The first couple of dosas still stuck to the tawa, but the rest started coming out well. It’s over two weeks now, and the tawa works like a charm. The dosas turn out nice and crisp, the resigned sighs have been replaced by sighs of contentment. Peace reigns at home at breakfast time again. And I am left with a feeling of satisfaction that this is healthier and tastier than cooking with non-stick appliances. I am now toying with the idea of getting
a mud pot in the kitchen for drinking water in the coming hot, summer months. This has been the age-old practice adopted by our ancestors to get cool water. I wonder if that is going to turn out as adventurous as the iron tawa episode!
vasanthi_suresh@yahoo.in