I think the first thing I fell in love with in Kerala was the masala dosa.
The one inarguable fact about the masala dosa is that like all regional specialties, everybody likes theirs a little different. Some people like the dosa – a pancake made by smoothing rice flour batter into a long oval on a griddle – thin and crispy, while others like it thick and soft. Some like masala – the potato mixture hidden in the middle – to be garlicky and spice-heavy, while others prefer the beetroot-infused mixture made famous by Indian Coffee Houses across Kerala. Then there are the condiments, the little metal ramekins of sambar and coconut chutney, of which there are hundreds of recipes – only one of which is ‘just right’ to the aficionado.
I actually had my first masala dosa in Bangalore. I was staying with a couple I’d met through CouchSurfing, and on my last morning with them, they brought in masala dosas from a street vendor near the apartment block. My God, it was delicious! I ate with relish, even mopping up the last of my coconut chutney with inexperienced fingers. At the end of it, I tried to push some money into Eva’s hands to show my appreciation, but she laughed and said it was okay – they only cost 25 rupees each.
25 rupees! Barely one New Zealand dollar! A tasty, low-cost, nourishing meal, best suited for breakfast but acceptable for dinner, and with a touch of flair about it. I was in love.
Unfortunately, it took a long time until I was able to sample one again. The hotel I frequented before catching the 7:30am shuttle to work didn’t serve masala dosas until 9, so for a good two months I had to be content with idli and poori. These two South Indian breakfast staples were good up to a point, but they became dull after a while. They didn’t have the ongoing appeal I craved – idli were too bland, poori too oily and unhealthy… but I hadn’t yet visited Cafe Mojo.
Mojo, on the ground floor of Technopark’s Gayatri building, quickly became my favourite place to eat. It isn’t merely that they served masala dosas; these masala dosas were like the Socratic form of masala dosas. The dosa was crispy and tasty, good enough to break bits off and eat on their own, and the masala was filled with peas just the way I like anything savoury to be filled with peas. The sambar was light, but not too watery, and the coconut chutney didn’t have too many chillies. In short, they were perfect.
It became another joke in the office. Whenever I stood up to go out, rather than asking me where I was going, my friends would simply say, “Mojo?” For a while I was going there both before and after work, so besotted was I with those delicious dosas. And the days when the regular chef was off duty, and masala dosas were off, I would stand shellshocked in front of the cashier and stumble vacantly through the menu, eventually settling for something vastly inferior and unsatisfying. Not even the gooey mess they called American Chopsuey could compare to my beloved masala dosas.
When I spent my week in Mumbai last December, my hosts delighted in teasing me about them – though in truth, they did have to drag me unwillingly from one South Indian eatery. “We’re going to McDonald’s, Barns, you can’t have a masala dosa!”
The biggest shock was to come, though: soon after my return to Kerala, and my Technopark haven, Cafe Mojo… disappeared. Well, the premises didn’t disappear, but it was populated by different staff, different bottles of hand soap by the sinks, and – most unpleasant of all – a different menu, on which masala dosas were conspicuously absent. Over the month or so since this jarring change, I’ve visited these as-yet-unnamed impostors sullenly hoping that they’ve added my favourite item to the menu, but it hasn’t happened yet. Mojo, meanwhile, is rumoured not to have disbanded but simply to have moved premises – to a flash new building up on the hill, leaving me feeling like an abruptly spurned lover.
I’m now in masala dosa limbo. Mojo is a little too far away to walk to before work, and not far enough to justify a rickshaw ride. Meanwhile, all the other substitutes I’ve tried have been unable to measure up, from Hotel New Aryaas in Kazhakuttam to the Vegetarian Refreshment Room at Varkala railway station. Some are better than others, and I would even admit that some are very good, but they’re not Mojo. And once you find a masala dosa you like, you can never replace it.
The one inarguable fact about the masala dosa is that like all regional specialties, everybody likes theirs a little different. Some people like the dosa – a pancake made by smoothing rice flour batter into a long oval on a griddle – thin and crispy, while others like it thick and soft. Some like masala – the potato mixture hidden in the middle – to be garlicky and spice-heavy, while others prefer the beetroot-infused mixture made famous by Indian Coffee Houses across Kerala. Then there are the condiments, the little metal ramekins of sambar and coconut chutney, of which there are hundreds of recipes – only one of which is ‘just right’ to the aficionado.
I actually had my first masala dosa in Bangalore. I was staying with a couple I’d met through CouchSurfing, and on my last morning with them, they brought in masala dosas from a street vendor near the apartment block. My God, it was delicious! I ate with relish, even mopping up the last of my coconut chutney with inexperienced fingers. At the end of it, I tried to push some money into Eva’s hands to show my appreciation, but she laughed and said it was okay – they only cost 25 rupees each.
25 rupees! Barely one New Zealand dollar! A tasty, low-cost, nourishing meal, best suited for breakfast but acceptable for dinner, and with a touch of flair about it. I was sold.
Unfortunately, it took a long time until I was able to sample one again. The hotel I frequented before catching the 7:30am shuttle to work didn’t serve masala dosas until 9, so for a good two months I had to be content with idli and poori. These two South Indian breakfast staples were good up to a point, but they became dull after a while. They didn’t have the ongoing appeal I craved – idli were too bland, poori too oily and unhealthy – but I hadn’t yet visited Cafe Mojo.
Mojo, on the ground floor of Technopark’s Gayatri building, quickly became my favourite place to eat. It isn’t merely that they served masala dosas; these masala dosas were like the Socratic form of masala dosas. The dosa was crispy and tasty, good enough to break bits off and eat on their own, and the masala was filled with peas just the way I like anything savoury to be filled with peas. The sambar was light, but not too watery, and the coconut chutney didn’t have too many chillies. In short, they were perfect.
It became another joke in the office. Whenever I stood up to go out, rather than asking me where I was going, my friends would simply say, “Mojo?” For a while I was going there both before and after work, so besotted was I with those delicious dosas. And the days when the regular chef was off duty, and masala dosas were off, I would stand shellshocked in front of the cashier and stumble vacantly through the menu, eventually settling for something vastly inferior and unsatisfying. Not even the gooey mess they called American Chopsuey could compare to my beloved masala dosas.
When I spent my week in Mumbai last December, my hosts delighted in teasing me about them – though in truth, they did have to drag me unwillingly from one South Indian eatery. “We’re going to McDonald’s, Barns, you can’t have a masala dosa!”
The biggest shock was to come, though: soon after my return to Kerala, and my Technopark haven, Cafe Mojo… disappeared. Well, the premises didn’t disappear, but it was populated by different staff, different bottles of hand soap by the sinks, and – most unpleasant of all – a different menu, on which masala dosas were conspicuously absent. Over the month or so since this jarring change, I’ve visited these as-yet-unnamed impostors sullenly hoping that they’ve added my favourite item to the menu, but it hasn’t happened yet. Mojo, meanwhile, is rumoured not to have disbanded but simply to have moved premises – to a flash new building up on the hill, leaving me feeling like a spurned lover.
I’m now in masala dosa limbo. Mojo is a little too far away to walk to before work, and not far enough to justify a rickshaw ride. Meanwhile, all the other substitutes I’ve tried have been unable to measure up, from Hotel New Aryaas in Kazhakuttam to the Vegetarian Refreshment Room at Varkala railway station. Some are better than others, and I would even admit that some are very good, but they’re not Mojo. And once you find a masala dosa you like, you can never replace it.
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Barnaby Haszard Morris is a formerly Kerala-based writer who, having learned from Malayalis of the true importance of family, is now enjoying some time with his loved ones in NZ. He dearly misses daily masala dosas, Mallu friends and Mumbai (in that order) but hopes to get back to India soon. Follow him on Twitter: 
Peta Jinnath Andersen is a freelance and fiction writer. Born in Sydney, Australia, to a Fiji-Indian father and Scottish mother, she’s a bit confused about her background, but loves it all the same. Currently living in the US, she has just had her first child, and is busy studying hard in an effort to learn more about her Indian heritage – including taking Hindi lessons – so she can teach her son about just what it is that makes an NRI special.
on March 31, 2011
at 2:47 am
Mr.B as always, your article was funny and to-the-point. You have rekindled my own love for Masala Dosas, something that I had curbed to lose some mean pounds.
And I have been transported back to my kitchen table at home, while Mummy roasts me 1 masala dosa after another. Hot off the griddle, with a generous helping of potato masala and love. Yum, yum! And I do hope Cafe Mojo moves closer soon. Wouldn’t want you pining away in Romeo style forever
on March 31, 2011
at 4:32 am
Lovely post Morris! Glad someone like you is fond of a ‘daily bread’ of South Indians. Kerala has always been rich when it comes to the taste buds and I hope to read more such posts which drive me to eat them
on March 31, 2011
at 5:27 am
ooops! poor you. i know the feeling-its as if your entire world has shifted! i miss india’s masala dosas too-especially at 25 rupees!
on March 31, 2011
at 4:40 pm
Thank you all for your comments!
I just have to add that the picture above shows a masala dosa intoxicatingly similar in colour & crispiness to the ones I am missing from Cafe Mojo.
I don’t know how much longer I can look at that picture.
on March 31, 2011
at 4:46 pm
That is so true. I have eaten Dosa’s all over India but the one’s I find back home are the best. The dilemma’s of a Foodie.
on March 31, 2011
at 6:57 pm
Still my favorite…!
on April 1, 2011
at 3:59 am
Next time when you are in Bangalore, taste the ‘Benne dosa’ ( Butter Dosa) available at select outlets like Vidyarthi Bhavan in Basvangudi or CTR in Malleswaram.
on April 1, 2011
at 10:27 am
I like Masala Dosa & Tomato Dosa my favorite. In bangalore most Shanti sagar outlets make decent Tomato Dosa.. I even liked the way they pack it for take away. Never seen such thing anywhere else. Miss Bangalore
Good post, and a thoroughly enjoying one
on April 1, 2011
at 11:53 am
Most of the chefs have different style of cooking and different taste as well, so its better you hunt that cook down rather than looking for alternatives.. lol
on April 1, 2011
at 1:50 pm
i love both bangalore as well as tamil nadu’s dosas…!!
but bangalore is famed for this masala dosa variety… u can get a good one in janatha hotel malleshwaram or in slv!!
on April 1, 2011
at 6:23 pm
After reading your post, I just feel like having a masala dosa.. gosh where am i gonna get one at this midnight..
Good post u have here !
on April 2, 2011
at 6:09 am
I also love Masala dosa! and south Indian food. beautiful post.
on April 2, 2011
at 6:41 am
I love Masala Dosa and its a regular for us south indians!But i am glad even you enjoyed it. Sometimes it tends to be spicy but makes up as a light meal.
on April 2, 2011
at 10:03 am
the masala dosa, great dish of great people.
on April 2, 2011
at 10:37 am
With you description of MASALA DOSA, you made me hungry. Isn’t it a wonderful breakfast choice? Thanks for motivating me, I’m gonna grab one now
on April 2, 2011
at 12:59 pm
Always love reading your posts Barnaby. This made me hungry but living in London although there are a number of places to buy Dosa it is just not the same as South India.
on April 3, 2011
at 12:37 pm
That was a very vivid description of the masala dosa! Right from the texture of the dosa, the filling, the coconut chutney, the sambar and even the pricing! You have really done your research! If we happen to meet, I shall treat you to one:-)
on April 3, 2011
at 3:16 pm
…speaking of which, I just had lunch at “Ahaa Dosa” in beautiful downtown Hounslow, West london – OK-ish, but would have liked something more & NO “MULUGA PODDI” (cardinal sin…)
Mind you, we eat it at home, home-made, pretty much every day….
on April 3, 2011
at 4:14 pm
wow wow wow…superb connotation!!
on April 3, 2011
at 10:06 pm
Great article… nice… read
on April 5, 2011
at 9:04 am
So glad this piece has gotten a good reception. It’s all testament to the wonder of a glorious dish.
Thank you all for your support
I’ve learned of some new things too, like where to get dosas and Bangalore, and this mysterious new recipe called a ‘tomato dosa’ – intriguing!
Shall I write a piece about poori now?
on April 5, 2011
at 12:05 pm
There are around 150 types of dosa available. It’s kind of turning into a pizza like thing, with all kinds of toppings. I was shocked to see a shop in a mall which served 150 varieties of dosa. I bet not even the mallus are aware of this
But dosa wins hands down in comparison to pizza any day.
on April 11, 2011
at 6:20 am
what an ode to the masala dosa… my favourite food as well… couldnt agree with you more on once you find your masala dosa its hard to settle for just any… for me the best masala dosa was at trivandrum – sadly i am confused abt where i had it – so i guess its pointless to talk abt it
on April 23, 2011
at 1:41 pm
Do you like Kerala???
on April 30, 2011
at 10:18 pm
It’s almost 3.47am(Thrissur,Kerala) here and guess what, this post has made me hungry!
Anyways, hoping for the “Return of the Mojo”
on May 14, 2011
at 12:46 pm
Nice post !. I love Masala dosa and Now i am craving for one.
on June 2, 2011
at 2:28 pm
I like masala doasas too. Here in Mumbai you sometimes get masala dosa thats not exactly like the ones down south. But I love those too.
I remember having masala dosa at a hotel called Gauri Nivas in Trivandrum. I don’t know if its close to the technopark. But they had great dosas too. However, I like rava dosas as much as masala dosas.
on July 23, 2011
at 6:10 pm
Hey B. – Write about the poori SOON-ish!
on August 2, 2011
at 7:17 am
Its is Masala Dosa that always lures me to think, “Why am I not a South Indian?”
on November 5, 2011
at 5:38 pm
I love masala dosa.. and now am going to have it
on November 7, 2011
at 7:37 am
Great post! And yes, nothing to beat a masala or even sada dosa… well, perhaps a stuffed paratha (being a Punjabi, which implies I am both a gourmet and a gourmand, I am partial to those as well!)