Things That Bang

Idlis have special meaning for me. My grandfather was the one who taught me how to eat idlis the wrong way. He'd put sambhar and coconut chutney on top of the piping hot idlis, smash it all up and eat like rice. Even now thats how I like to eat my idlis- smashed, sticky and ever so divine.

I can eat idlis at all times - breakfast, lunch, dinner, snack time, post snack time- just about any time. Idli is the ultimate comfort food for me. Idlis somehow even in their bland taste remind me of innocence. How wrong can one go with idlis?

Its all in the batter, the further its made away from South India the more diluted its taste becomes. At least in Delhi, despite visiting the best South Indian joints. I could never get the kind of Idlis that we get down South.

The melting softness and the tangy sambhar can only be enjoyed here. If you have the urge to eat idlis the best place to enjoy them is at a nameless little shop in a small lane in Commercial Street. Ask any Bangalorean and they will take you there.

They serve idlis during evenings and they are positively swoon worthy.

Looking back, the best idlis I remembered eating when I was young were made by my dad's friend's wife. I was less than five years old and barely reached the kitchen sink. I remember Aunty showing me how idlis were made. I was in awe. My mom never made idlis.

Her delicate fingers indented the idlis with ghee. I remember her patiently answering my questions. And when she sneaked me an idli ahead of everyone waiting in the living room, I was in heaven.

It was hot, soft and soulful. I was in love with the idli and awed by the idli maker. Its funny how I barely remember what she looked like, except that she was slim, delicate, and in my nostalgic mind - pure like the idli she made.

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