It is never just about the food

Ever since I came to America, I have fighting against the usage "Indian food" and "Indian restaurant."

Because, there is no "Indian" food.

In order to paint a picture of the tremendous diversity in the Subcontinent, I have often countered people who ask me about Indian food by asking them whether they have ever had "European food."  That often does the trick.

We not only do not make such a reference to the white people's food, we even show off our culinary knowledge by talking about food from northern Italy versus the delicacies from southern Italy.

Yet, we talk about Indian food!

Recently a friend invited us over for a socially-distanced dinner.  She would cook her favorite Mexican dinner (her mother was from Mexico,) she said.

I asked her if she does mole.

The first time that I had a mole, which had a little bit of cocoa also in the sauce, I was blown away.  That was at a friend's home back in California.

However, rarely does a "Mexican" restaurant include a mole in the menu, and the few times that I have ordered them, well, they have been disasters!  It has been years since I have a had a mole, leave alone a good mole.  Which is why I asked the friend if she cooks mole.

"No, they didn't make mole in the part of Mexico where my mother was from and, so, we didn't grow up with it," she said.

The stereotypical and cliched idea of Mexican food does not allow for the incredible diversity in the traditional foods even in the country south of the border; how are we then going to imagine that there is nothing called "Indian food" in a land that is on the other side of the planet!

Even as confused as we are about all these, in multi-ethnic societies like the US, we tend to view that some "ethnics" cook and eat only their "ethnic food" and, we thereby render people one-dimensional.  A food-blogger/author/chef in Canada but with Indian heritage writes about this:

It is an unavoidable truth, but the color of my skin is sometimes confused with the scope of my talent. The more I write on the foods of India, the greater the risk I will be limited to that focus in the jobs I am offered, even though Indian food is not my chosen specialty. And even if it were, getting pigeonholed would still be a liability.

We have a long way to go in order to get away from the old ways of thinking.

The author, Tara O'Brady, writes about why it "wasn’t a simple yes" to write about a "food I’ve loved for longer than I can remember to those who don’t know it, to explain the process, and the science of it all."

Writers of color are expected to make a living off of their skin, off our families’ private rituals.

That's a powerful line.

There is less interest for us to exist outside broad stereotypes. Our food is sold on conjured emotion rather than granting these dishes the same deferential study we allow “classical” cuisines of Europe, no matter if our traditions stretch back further.

The food that Tara O'Brady was assigned to write about?

The dosai.  Or "dosa" as it is often referred to outside the Tamil world.

The dosai and its sibling dish--idli--are perfect foods for a simple reason: They include carbs and protein to get one going for the day.  O'Brady highlights this:

Most dosas are naturally gluten-free (excluding the wheat varieties, of course), vegetarian, and vegan-friendly if cooked with oil instead of ghee. As a grain is paired with a legume in the batter, a dosa includes a complete form of protein. In short, they’re a practically perfect food.

Even with dosais, the restaurant versions are often different from the home-made ones.

At restaurants this type of dosa can reach impressive physical proportions, the batter spread thin, then coaxed into rolls that span the width of a table. Those shattering paper-thin dosas are ethereal and almost cracker-like, a vehicle for the main component of the meal—aloo masala (dry-fried potatoes with mustard seeds, turmeric, urad dal and asafoetida) being the most traditional.
Homemade dosas tend to be more diminutive and also sturdier, with distinct circles where the batter is left comparatively thick. The bands go lacy and translucent like restaurant dosas, while the mounded ribs fluff, all spongy and bouncy.

Yep, which is why when I visit India, I never ever order dosais at restaurants; my favorite breakfast at any restaurant when in Tamil Nadu--poori with potatoes, with a side of vadai and sambar ;)

I wonder if dosais will go well with a mole sauce!

Dosais waiting to be eaten
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