Given a choice, l would love to make sada (regular) dosa made from rice and urad dal, every day. It was my staple breakfast during the first semester of my pregnancy. But by the end of second semester I developed gestational diabetics, and the dosa that I loved to eat every day, became my enemy. Eating dosas started spiking my one hour blood sugar levels. So I had to give up making dosa for a long time. Still at times when I am desperate to eat dosa, I will make gothambu dosa /wheat dosa.
I remember, amma used to make gothambu dosa in order to escape from the trouble of wet grinding of urud dal and rice followed by the overnight fermentation of the combination of the two to make Sada dosa. When I was kid I used to put a lot of conditions to eat gothambu dosa such as it should be crispy and dripping in oil, and accompanied with sugar and banana. Poor Amma had to put up with all my tantrums. I would like to mention my childhood story of tasting dosa (sada) disaster. My kid sister used to eat dosa by mixing it with coffee and made into a paste. She used to say that “it is really tasty, u should try, and you will like it”. I was always tempted, but did not have courage to taste that, until that one morning when I got some courage and asked amma to give me dosa along with a cup of coffee. She warned me that “you won’t like it and if you are not going to eat the paste, I going to slap you for wasting food”. I ignored her warning and mixed two dosa with coffee, and with my sister encouraging me, I asked mom to give me two more and finally I got 4 dosa and all mixed with coffee and made into a paste. Then when I started to eat, after one bite I realized that this is not going to work. I can’t eat this paste. I was playing with my dosa paste for long time and not eating anything. Finally when amma noticed what I was doing she asked me to eat the whole thing. She also told me that if I did not eat the whole paste, she will beat me with a stick. When amma turned to make some more dosas, I sneaked out of the kitchen, and ran, with my mother following me. I got to amma’s friend’s backyard and hid there. Mom was not able to find me, for a long time. I was crying the whole time. Later she forgave me and told me not to do that again. Now after having my baby I am not able to find time to grind the rice and dal for dosa , as the baby gets scared from the sound of the grinder. Even I can’t stand the sound of the grinder for too long. So I finally started to make some gothambu/wheat flour dosa along with ulli chutney /Chammanthi.