There are times when your favourite wins and you feel great. And then there are times when your favourite climbs the rankings and you feel oddly flat. Take for instance, the case of the Masala Dosa. Sixth on TasteAtlas’s list of the world’s best pancakes. I should be happy. I am not.

Let me explain.

Dosa at the First Line of Defence

By the way, the masala dosa world ranking has been climbing this list. From 12th a couple of years ago to 6th now. More Indians eating, rating, telling the world what South India already knows and makes every day for breakfast. Fair enough.

I have eaten dosa in places that had no business serving one. Once, right at the Pakistan border in the Himalayas. After crossing signboards saying You are visible to the enemy. We stood at the barbed wire and looked through binoculars into Pakistan. The mountains looked exactly the same on both sides. Same rock. Same sky.

We turned around to leave. And there it was. A stall. A handpainted sign. Dosa Corner.

First line of defence. Settled.

150 Varieties, One Tawa

Taste Atlas notes“masala dosa has made the Huffington Post’s list of 10 foods to try before you die, alongside Beijing duck, moussaka, and BBQ ribs.“

Before you die? Many of us have been eating it before we could walk. A little late for the warning.I have consumed copious dosas in my life and I suspect that these dosa memories occupy more space in my brain than what has settled in my body.

Take for instance, one bright weekend morning in rural Tamil Nadu. Decades ago. A State Transport bus stopped on the outskirts of a small town. I stepped off not knowing where I was. And then I watched the man at the griddle. How he spread the batter. How much oil he used. How crispy he let the dosa get. I instantly knew where I was. The dosa is character and identity defining in more ways than one.

And then there was Nanguneri. A man asked me simply, how do you like your dosa? Not a formality. A real question. Almost a challenge in the midst of bustle and smells of a rural bus stand. I hesitatingly answered. He acknowledged my challenge with a stoic face and an incredibly precise dosa.

The dosa has not been standing still either. A place in Kochi has over 150 varieties on the menu, open till 1am. One is called Volvo. Another has chocolate. A third uses quail eggs. In Surat, a vendor spreads aam ras, mango pulp, in mango season instead of sambaar. Nobody thought twice. Nobody needed to.

At home it is sambaar and chutney. And here we must be clear. Sambaar. Not Sambur. Sambur is a deer. Sambaar is the real thing. Go to Madurai if you need proof. It will arrive in a steel vessel and make the argument for itself.

Which Dosa, Exactly?

So. The border dosa. The Nanguneri dosa. The midnight Kochi dosa with quail eggs. The Surat dosa drowning happily in aam ras. The home dosa with sambaar that is definitely not a deer. And they put it sixth. In a country where 99.99 marks out of hundred evokes an “oh no” response, sixth on a list titled ‘Pancakes’ is not a rank. It is an insult.

The ranking says masala dosa specifically. Fine. But what does masala dosa actually mean? A place in Kochi has 150 varieties on its menu? In Surat, a vendor’s answer involves mango pulp instead of sambaar. This is not one dish. This is an entire world. Does it not deserve its own category, where pancakes are welcome to come and try their luck?

There should be a list for dosas. Pancakes can appear somewhere in the middle.

We could even start a movement. The Dosa Janta Party. DJP, alphabetically next in line and some would say long overdue. The tawa as the party symbol, because the tawa does all the work and gets none of the credit.

But honestly, I do not want to be blocked, mocked, or chief minister.

Like most mornings, I just want one plain and crispy dosa.