Author Prajwal Parajuly on why chutney, not idli, is his go-to dish

Illustration
| Photo Credit: Saai

To survive the various splendours of Sri City, the place I dwell a part of the yr, one should get away every now and then. Weekending in Chennai is the best possibility.  For a number of of my colleagues, Chennai means concert events. For others, it means stocking up on miso and pesto. For but others, it means brunch at Pumpkin Tales and cocktails at MadCo. What would Chennai imply to me? I had loved the whimsy of Tulika Books and the gastronomic surprise that was Avartana. I had jumped rope on the Madras Club and had twice eaten the cloud pudding at Kappa Chakka Kandhari. I had additionally had a little bit of a religious awakening watching a rooster sashay down a ramp on the Kapaleeshwarar temple. 

All pleasant experiences, little doubt, however mere footnotes to the one factor that may deliver me again to Chennai repeatedly: the standard idli chutney.  The array of chutneys at Murugan Idli, to be particular. 

I didn’t know what a preoccupation these chutneys would change into after I first made my technique to the GN Road outlet at T Nagar. An innocuous idli was plonked on my banana leaf, on high which the waiter ladled out a beneficiant portion of sambhar. There they have been in white, inexperienced, and two sorts of orange — a quartet of chutneys so flavourful that the idli appeared like an afterthought. There was simply the precise trace of piquancy, and what was that I tasted? It was sesame, its lavish use genius. I went to Murugan once more for dinner and returned for lunch the following day. 

It is now virtually all the time my first cease after I get into Chennai. 

What is it about Murugan? It is unassuming. But that may be stated for any variety of Chennai eateries. The service is detached on a great day and infuriating on most days. No one will go to any of the retailers for the atmosphere both. If I’m not going for the vibes or the service, why would I submit myself to a meal — generally two meals — a day? It’s as a result of I’m a chutney addict by means of and thru.  Nothing else issues — not the crisp rava dosa nor the sambhar. Neither the fluffy idli nor the inoffensive uttapam. I eat the chutneys — dollops and dollops of them — like they’re the principle course and the idli the accompaniment. How I really like making snaky rivulets on the banana leaf with my fingers, mixing and matching one, two, three or 4 chutneys with a smidgen of idli, and guiding the concoction to my mouth because it drips down my elbow, yellowing my shirt, and filling my gluttonous coronary heart with unbridled pleasure. 

I’d quickly realise that few matters polarise Chennai greater than Murugan Idli. For every foodie who unequivocally declares the restaurant as her favorite, there’s the one who froths at his mouth recounting its circumspect hygiene. “Went … a month ago, and it was ghastly,” pronounces my editor, not one to mince phrases. There are these for whom the shortage of consistency jars. “I’ll only go to the one across from the Armenian church,” my colleague Kaveri as soon as declared. My sister factors out that in a metropolis brimming with glorious meals, Murugan is middling, however she additionally forks and knifes her dosa, so her opinion doesn’t depend. Eating Circles any day, some say. There are then the Sangeetha militants. No self-respecting Sangeetha loyalist will out himself as a Murugan fan. 

Sure, not each Murugan is created equal. I’ll set foot within the Besant Nagar location just for takeaway chutneys and nothing else. Not one dosa I’ve eaten there has come out heat. Plus, in a neighborhood with Native Tiffins and Vishranti — the idli on the former is so nicely fermented that it renders the chutney ineffective — a lack-lustre Murugan is simply wrath-inducing. I’ve given the outlet three (three!) possibilities, and I absolutely sympathise with those that are unconvinced of Murugan’s greatness as a result of it’s the one location that may’t get something proper. That doesn’t imply I’ll not decide these Murugan haters for dismissing my beloved chain altogether. I shall decide them virtually as severely as I do these meals writers who describe the idli as a rice cake, the dosa as a crepe and — the largest horror — the chutney as a form of pickle. 

Friends joke that I’m liable for quadrupling Murugan’s income. But they’re improper. Idli is low-cost meals. I really feel terrible that the fourth, fifth and sixth free chutney helpings doubtless price greater than the 23 rupees per idli that I’m charged. To circumvent this guilt, I invariably order a rava masala onion dosa, consuming which requires … one other few ladles of chutney. I return to Sri City with extra chutney than blood in my veins.

Prajwal Parajuly is the creator of The Gurkha’s Daughter and Land Where I Flee. He loves idli, loathes naan, and is detached to espresso. He teaches Creative Writing at Krea University and oscillates between New York City and Sri City.