HEAVY rain pounds on the pavement outside. There's no sun in sight, and the wilting salad on my plate isn't helping to dispel the sense of ennui I'm feeling. "I need comfort food," I decide finally, pushing the plate away. Diet be damned.
The Curve in Mutiara Damansara, Petaling Jaya isn't short of restaurants. Colourful awnings and lit signs jostle each other for attention, while waiters lurk at doorways with menus at hand. I'm spoilt for choice but there doesn't seem to be anything that's calling out to me.
The lure of comfort food surpasses even the most promising menu offerings. The stomach wants what it wants — when it "sees" what it wants. I feel very much like a blinkered woman being led by her stomach. And there's little I can do except traverse the sidewalk, dodge friendly waiters, watch the rain fall and hope I'd come across a place that would satisfy the void in me.
"What you need is a happy thosai," pronounces the grinning young bearded man in front of me. The sign reads 'Thosai Cafe', and for some reason, my stomach gives a rumble. "Go there!" The rumble tells me. Ah yes, comfort food like mum's cooking. I take a chance and jog through the drizzle towards the pop-up styled cafe.
The extensive menu befuddles me. There are around a whopping 78 varieties of thosais on display. "Almost like a thosai overkill," I murmur to myself. What in the world is Kolhapuri Mysore thosai?
The grinning chef understands. Sit down, he tells me. "I'll make you a Happy Thosai." What? "It's not on the menu, but my regulars (customers) love this version," he remarks, not without a little pride.
I could do with a jab of happiness, I agree. "Why is it called a Happy Thosai?" I ask. There's a story behind its genesis, he replies, eyes twinkling, before proceeding to tell me a story about how his thosai recipe helped soothe a depressed worker.
"He'd just broken up with his girlfriend," the chef shares while pouring the thosai batter on a smoking hot griddle. The broken-hearted man asked for something to eat and so the young man obliged.
"I just threw a couple of ingredients together and served it with thosai," he admits. This intuitive cooking won a fan over. "He ate quietly and then told me, 'I don't know how you did it, but that thosai made me happy'."
Happy Thosai was borne out of this encounter and now remains a firm favourite of his regulars. "Trust me, you'll like it," he proclaims. He doesn't know me but Mithun Mohan (as he introduces himself to me later) seems to be able to read my mind.
The Happy Thosai arrives with much fanfare.
The crisp crepe, thin as newsprint but far more delicious, is drizzled with freshly grilled vegetables, grated beetroot and cottage cheese. It's a little sweet from the beetroot, fragrant and gently sour from the fermented batter. "I love it," I pronounce and Mithun grins in response.
Feeling sad or stressed? Put down that Oreo or bowl of mac 'n' cheese and brace yourself for the latest discovery: the emotional healing powers of comfort food may well lie in the humble thosai.
"You just need a plate of Happy Thosai," puts in Mithun, chuckling again, before adding glibly: "There's also the Mac 'n' Cheese Thosai you could try!"
TRUTH ABOUT THOSAI
There's something deceptively simple about the thosai or dosa. The savoury crisp South Indian sourdough pancakes served hot and ladled with chutney or curry of your choice is my version of a delicious breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner.
You could eat it any time of the day. Who doesn't love the thosai? "Annei, satu thosai garing," (Brother, one crispy thosai!) we'd order at our local mamak. And when the order arrives at your table, the presentation is rather impressive.
Cooked on a huge griddle, it's usually over a foot in diameter before it's curled around its fragrant spicy filling. At home, the pancakes are usually smaller, but certainly no less delicious. It's fairly simple to make, assures my mother resolutely. But it comes with a caveat: the success of a fairly good thosai lies in the batter. And that's where the complication comes in.
The batter must be fermented overnight for the correct texture and flavour. And to be truthful, the traditional process is a little bit fussy. You must first soften rice and urad dal (split husked black lentils) in a bowl of water; that takes four to six hours.
Then the rice and dal are ground to a smooth paste with a blender or food processor, or an Indian wet-dry grinder, which comes in handy for other jobs. Finally, the batter is left in a warm place to ferment overnight, eight to 10 hours, until it's bubbling.
Be prepared to fail with the first few thosais you try (if you've made crepes, you'll understand why). It takes some fiddling to get the heat correct. It shouldn't be too hot. It does take a few minutes to achieve the beautiful burnished colour you want, so a medium flame is best.
With all the fuss that comes with creating a perfect thosai, I'm quite content to leave the thosai-making to the experts. After all, thosais should best remain in the category of restaurant-food-best-left-to-professionals-and-finnicky-Indian-mothers. And right now? I'd be happy to leave it in Mithun's hands too.
He doesn't use rice and lentils though. "They often get kind of soggy so I had to figure out a way to keep the thosais crisp," he explains. He did his research and turned to his family members back in India for help. It paid off.
"I don't use rice. I use semolina instead. It's like your rava thosai but crispier and thinner. There are a couple of secret ingredients in the batter as well," he reveals sagely, smiling.
THOSAI TRAVELS
Bangalore-born Mithun admits to an eclectic career chart. The 30-year-old has a background in IT, is a qualified fitness trainer and pursued a Hotel Management course in Malaysia. "I came to Malaysia to keep my girlfriend company," he confesses sheepishly.
She came over to study on a scholarship and Mithun decided to join her so she wouldn't be all alone in a foreign country. "I tried looking for a job in IT but there weren't any available. I decided then to pursue a certification in Hotel Management," he shares. This was his first exposure to the food and beverage industry. "My career once again took a different turn here in Malaysia," he remarks wryly.
He isn't new to change. "I get bored of things very easily," he admits. A job in IT meant being behind a desk all the time and it wasn't something he wanted to commit himself to. "I'm a people's person and I love being out there meeting people," he adds.
A pause, and he continues: "Doing something you feel is satisfying can actually increase that level of happiness in ways that no amount of money will." Like a Happy Thosai? I tease, and he chuckles, replying: "Exactly!"
And that pursuit of happiness, all things considered, can sometimes lead you down surprising paths. "I'm a big believer in the idea that we shouldn't be the ones who edit our life story. We should allow the world to edit our life story," he avers. "So take advantage of opportunities, try things, and give a job a shot. There's very little cost to putting yourself out there."
From bustling tables to frontline management, Mithun learnt the ropes quickly before finally deciding to start a business of his own — with a Malaysian partner. It took him a year to come up with a concept. "I wanted to do something different," he recalls, adding: "I wanted to come up with something hearty and healthy as well."
Being a fitness trainer, Mithun wanted to keep the menu healthier. "The thosais served here are full of fibre, and one serving can go a long way," he says, adding: "It can keep you from overeating but still give you the kind of pleasure that's derived from comfort food."
Indian cuisine of the South, Mithun adds, is quite versatile and diverse. Every regional food of Andhra Pradesh, Tamil Nadu, Kerala and Karnataka, which collectively form the South Indian states, are distinctively unique.
"I grew up with the traditional fare of thosais, idlis and chappatis served piping hot out of my mother's kitchen," he recounts, half-wistfully.
THOSAI THOUGHTS
Culinary journeys tend to follow templates — the life-altering bite; the singed forearms at the hands of a tyrannical kitchen overlord — so to find one with a different perspective is interesting. "I loved food and cooked for friends all the time. I was the designated cook whenever we hung out with a crate of beers!" he recalls, grinning.
The love for food, of course, is steeped in ritual, memory and taste.
He recalls waking up to hot thosais, straight from the griddle. "My mother would wake up early to make thosais for my dad. Then she'd go off to sleep, and get up again to do the same for my brother and me. We had separate waking times but she'd nevertheless head to the kitchen every single time to put a plate of hot thosais in front of us," he shares.
When his mother fell sick, it was up to Mithun to continue with the daily task of feeding his father and brother. "I learnt to cook from my mum at 16," he says simply, adding: "The first dish I made was thosai!"
Mithun's unembellished simple story reminds me of how transformative the junctures where food and life collide can be. Thosai Cafe, I dare say, is a homage of sorts to his love for food, and the memory of his mother's kitchen back in Bangalore. "It makes business sense to do something different here in Malaysia," he explains pragmatically, shrugging his shoulders.
He isn't sentimental, but there's a certain joie de vivre that emanates from the stocky-built Thosai connoisseur when he starts talking about his customers. "I love food and cooking," he reiterates. "But the real joy still remains in being a cook who can cook a good meal for his loved ones and customers. The ultimate question anyway is: 'Is it good? Did it give you pleasure?'"
From concocting a thosai version of the Mac 'n' Cheese for his regular customer's children to having a 'Mee Goreng' Thosai, Mithun aims to please. With a growing menu of thosais in various interpretations, there's something in there for everyone. What's even better? It's all vegetarian and totally healthy.
If you've opted into going meatless but find yourself floundering, or looking for menus that don't trade meat for loads of carbs and cheese (because let's face it, taking meat out of a dish doesn't make it health food!) help is here — from someone who knows what's what. "Try our thosais!" urges Mithun. "We've enough variety to keep everyone happy… even those new to the concept of going meatless!"
For years, pop-ups have been many newcomers' first step towards opening a restaurant; a way to show off their talent and try out new ideas. But now, chefs like Mithun are treating the pop-up as an end in itself, using the humble thosai to explore and share their culinary traditions.
Whatever the logistics, his simple set-up allows him to innovate and experiment for his customers, while saying through food: "This is my history. This is who I am."
If you should need a dose of happiness and history combined, just take a walk up to the Thosai Cafe and have a chat with the raspy-voiced young man behind the steaming griddle. And oh, be sure to ask for the Happy Thosai.
THOSAI CAFE
Where: K-G19-W, The Curve Mall, Mutiara Damansara, Petaling Jaya, Selangor.
Opening hours: Mon-Sun, 10am-10pm.
Tel: 014-711 8902