Idli medleys

A step further, you may order a similar deep plate to contain not only two idlis but also a vada. All three pretty rounds get swamped by sambar. After that, tock tock goes the spoon upon the plate till everything is mixed up. Add the off-white coconut chutney to that mix. It becomes technicolour. That category is goshawful messidly.

To be sure, I belong to both these categories. But it was not always that way. I was a better soul once. I would order idlis in a three-compartment steel plate: one compartment for the idlis, one for the sambar and the third for the chutney. This morning, I was watching one diner from that category. He went tock, carefully upon the white round with his spoon, to yield a postage stamp sized morsel, and just as carefully, moved the spoon into the sambar, and opened his mouth just a wee bit for the spoon’s entry. The next postage stamp sized morsel in the spoon travelled to the chutney, and was then partaken of. And so he alternated, one bit idli with sambar, next bit idli with chutney. He was of the fussidly category in contrast to the messidly.

At breakfast, spicy gravies with idli are a no-no for my newly arrived American friend as that’s too hot, first thing in the morning. He wants to dip his idli in his tumbler of south Indian coffee. He has a problem, since that is not the custom. Coffee is customarily served after the food. So, he has a war of attrition with the waiter till both items get handed to him together. Most of the time, his idlis go cold by the time he gets his coffee for dipping. He belongs to the coffidly category.