Before I begin this post, two things about me:

1)  I am a dosa FREAK.  If offered Penelope Cruz and a masala dosa, I’d choose the latter.

2)  The dosa/masala dosa referred to in point 1 refers ONLY to those that are made in Bangalore’s and Mysore’s darshinis.  Nothing else matters.  Really.

I had been to Gurgaon today.  After making my way through the floors of Central, I reached the food court at the top.  Even before I set foot into the food court, a familiar smell wafted through the air.  ‘No! It can’t be!’, I thought, for I smelled the same wonderful smell that Dosa Camp in Jayanagar in Bangalore is associated with (and one that is hard wired into me now).  I straightaway ran to the counter and scanned the menu.  75 bucks for a Mysore masala dosa it said.  (Yes Bangaloreans, here dosas cost significantly more…)

Having ordered one, I decided to engage myself in another wonderful pastime, watching a batch of dosas being made.  And then it began.

The moron of a chef first took the batter and spread it like it was a contest of how much area of the tawa one can cover with batter.  An utter violation already – A MYSORE MASALA DOSA IS NEVER PAPER THIN!  After the palya had gone in, the genius folded it and, hold your breath, cut it into 6 pieces.  A MYSORE MASALA DOSA IS NOT A WANNABE SPRING ROLL!  When the plate containing this mess was handed to me I shot a desperate and utterly cynical ‘Is this Mysore Masala Dosa?!’ at the chef.  He didn’t catch the point.  Just a blank nod of the head.  Every expletive that I knew came rushing to my head.

The dosa was like a ragged, squirming leper instead of the majestic warrior that it was supposed to be.  Excuse the description, but you get the drift… 🙂  The chutney and sambar were deplorable as well.  The place called itself ‘Not just dosas’.  Damn!!! I should have understood right away!

STATUTORY WARNING:  If you are hungry in Delhi and Gurgaon, please please stick to parathas/pronthas and chaat.