Didgeriwhynot…….

Honestly, certain examples of these are big enough to look like an edible native Australian wind instrument.  Some of them taste good enough to transport the lucky consumer to Dreamland, others taste like the inside of a Melbourne tramdriver’s glove.  Now you don’t really see these in non-authentic eateries.  God I hate all this “authentic” stuff but I don’t know how best else to describe it…..are we all savvy with what I’m getting at?  And if you do see one in a non-authentic eatery you’d be well advised to give it the good old body swerve, although if you’re eating in plastic crapholes you probably deserve all you get.

What is he banging on about?  No idea, need a cuppa.

DOSAI

Dosai is plural of Dosa, and that’s what you’ll see on the menu:  masala dosa, egg dosa, special dosa etc etc. A dosa is a thin rice flour pancake, the other descriptor being what it’s wrapped around and what accompanies it.  Originating in the Indian state of Mysore (yes I know, Mysore bottom etc, that’s why they renamed it Karnataka in the 70s) it is now an ubiquitous South Indian food icon.  The Sri Lankans have a version they call a Hopper (as opposed to a string hopper, don’t ask) and the first one of these I ever had was during an altered state evening at the Moon festival in Amblangoda.  This one was stuffed with bananas, green chilli, egg and curd, just sensational.  Sensational to the extent of my considering setting up a nanahopper stall in Covent Garden.  But then I came round and………….

Back to the dosai.  Major quality criteria: 

1) lack of greasiness: a goodun will be totally lacking in oil.

2) pliability: no point wrapping the dosa around the filling if it’s going to fall apart as soon as you look at it

3) chunk size: large chunks in the filling are a bit of a no-no.  Large chunks and friability are hopeless.

4) accompaniments:  usually a sambar – spicy soup, and a coconut relish.  Both should be luvverly

5) extras: if you’ve paid a premium for, say, a Bangalore Special Dosa you should be able to discern a difference.  Many places charge extra for apparently nowt, or like $2 for a spoonful of diced onions so make sure you ask first.  This practice can be called adding value or gouging depending on whether you work in marketing or technical support!

The three shown in the picture cover the Auckland cheapeats cost spectrum.  You can pay more at those other places but why would you?

From the left: Xotic Masala Dosa $7   Saravannas Egg Dosa $10  Ras Vatika Special Dosa $12 

Xotic only sells masala dosa and these vary wildly with the chef.  I’ve had almost inedible, greasy, crumbly examples and the next time a light, pliable truly toothsome one.  At $7 you take your chance.  The accompanying sambar is always good, the relish can be bland.

Saravannas do lhe largest range I’ve yet seen, from plain dosai through chicken to truffled lobster thermidor dosa, and I must say every one I’ve had so far has been good, the egg dosa showing real class. Their chutneys and relishes are exemplary.

Ras Vatika (Dominion Rd, Balmoral near the Laundrette):  top of the range in price, subtley spiced, nice accompaniments but the more expensive ones aren’t worth the extra.  And they can be VERY SLOOOOOW.

I’ve put my specs in the pics to give you an idea of size.  Xotic is the only relatively small one, the others are huge.

Now Plato, Aristotle, Russell, Murdoch and the like have long pondered the intricasies of our society, covering such worrisome topics as greed, war, truth and moustaches.  But they have, to a man, avoided one of the really thorny issues: is a masala/egg/special etc dosa an adequate, satisfying meal?  I suppose this is just an extrapolation of Newman and Baddiels’  professors sketch – “see that diced carrot in that pool of vomit, that’s your mum that is”  See, I had a mental image the other day of Graham Greene commenting on lunch at Mercury Plaza….”A lingual delight it may have been on the surface but in the underlying strata were ripples of decay, untruth and perversion” etc.  

However, it is a valid question.  Those of you who have dosa’d should know what I mean.  One minute you’re faced with this huge thing, 5 minutes later it’s all gone and yet………   My view is that they’re just about ok for lunch (oddly enough the smaller ones tend to be thicker so just as filling as the big ones; refer to Young’s modulus), but for dindins a supplement is required and that’s probably why Vishnu invented samosas, idlis and the like.  It’s just that I always feel guilty ordering extra food when one has a two foot long thingy on the table.  Change subject pronto.

And the upshot of all this is what?  I have little or no idea save to hope fervently that you, my dearest reader, will be galvanised into action and head toward your local Dosas ‘R Us outlet to introduce yourself (or re-acquaint yourself) to the delights of this wondrous invention. 

For the record, I’d score the above as follows:

Ras Vatika:  Quality 8/10   Quantity 7/10  VforM  8/10

Saravannas:  Quality 8/10  Quantity 7.5/10  VforM 8.5/10

Xotic:  Quality 6.5/10  Quantity 7/10  VforM  7.5/10

Incidentally there’s a place on Peachgrove Rd in Hamilton called, inspirationally, South Indian Restaurant which knocks up a cracking example of the species.  There you go, that’s good eats in Waikato covered!

Apologies dear readers……..

……..the last review featuring Lime in Otahuhu, forgot to mention that they’re only open 7am – 4pm, 7 days.

Stop press

Just a quickie folks, ‘cos at these prices there’s a good chance you’ll blink and miss it.  Now I wanna tell yew a stooory (Max Bygraves, the scourge of my childhood Sunday evenings).  A story of sweat and bravery.  First the bravery:  yesterday I parked my car out of sight for an hour on Station Road, Otahuhu.  Apparently this is a primo “conversion” location, ie someone converts your car into their car by application of paint and number plates.  So, brave or what?  Don’t answer. 

I’d seen this place a few weeks ago whilst making an unsuccessful attempt to eat in the Malaysian place next door (closed Wednesday lunch!) but I was in dire need of a nasi lemak so went to Mercury instead.   However, it stuck in mind because of its unusual menu.  So I went back.  Thank God.  Suffice to say that I had THE BEST VINDALOO I’ve ever eaten in NZ, apart from the pork one I make at home from a 30 year old Madhur Jaffrey recipe which takes about 3 hours to prepare and cook.  Now I can hear certain brains ticking over (Hi PC!) with thoughts of “they don’t eat pork in India, you fibbing git”.  Nahnahneenahnah, vindaloo originated in Goa which was a Portuguese colony for 400 years, hence Roman Catholic ergo porkypoos.

I asked the delightful Indian chef for it to be “Vindaloo hot, how you would eat it” which seemed to please him and spurred him on to serve up an ace.  A much too big portion of tender beef chunks in a fiery red sauce predominated by the tang of vinegar and the freshness of masses of freshly ground coriander seed, both hallmarks of the classic vindaloo.  This was as hot as a hot thingy gettin’ jiggy wid another hot thingy in a sauna whilst drinking warm absinthe.  But, and this is the telltale of a properly constructed hot curry, there was no mouth/throat burn.  Just a delectable taste of lots of red chillies.  So, you may enquire, what happens to the hotness?  The hotness directs it’s chemical energy towards the old central nervous system and stimulates increased release of serotonin into the bloodstream.  This triggers, in particular, two things – an overall feeling of calm and wellbeing (what a daft thing to say, of course you feel good you’ve just had a megavindaloo!) followed by increased sweating.   As I left I had a lovely contented glow and my hair was sweating!  And my car was still there.  Result.

This magnificent offering was accompanied by two oil free rotis, a bit of salad and some thermonuclear relish.  TEN DOLLARS !!  Tot it up; in your local plastic Indian the vind would have been $15 – 18 for a smaller quantity and the rotis at least $1.50 each.  And it would have been crapola. 

It’s called Lime, 14 Station Rd, Otahuhu and it has the world’s strangest menu.  All the curries are $10 – boneless duck, lamb masala, beef madras etc and I would imagine they’re all gooduns.  Then there are salads and stuff – fullhouse Caesar, Greek, kumara/bacon, calamari etc……all $10.  And he does all day brekkies – eggs benny, omelette, B&E, S&E, French toast etc……all $10!  Smoked salmon is a dollar extra, and The Works is $14.50 including a free stretcher home.

So, apologies for breaking the rules and recommending an establishment as well as a dish but I felt this one to be sufficiently novel as to warrant the deviation.  Your feedback on Lime would be welcomed.

Guest reviewer

Good day sirs and madams, C3PO here.  Mister Andrew’s central processor has not yet readjusted to normal mode after his trip to the outer reaches so he kindly gave me the opportunity to show off my “humanoid prose” skills.  Forgive me, I’d much rather be ironing Mistress Leia’s thong than appearing in public like this but I cannot refuse a command.  But I can do both; do excuse me for a few moments…..

….Ah, that’s better, the heady aroma of Shout and starch!

So, I believe I am meant to discuss my favourite lunch.  Now our diets are quite different.  You seem to eat dead cows arses and lizard snot whilst R2 and I happily consume filet d’axle, ouefs a la cyclotron and fricassee de warp drive washed down with liberal quantites of Magnatec40/80.  But forgive me as that would represent a lavish dinner and I understand you to be more interested in cheap lunches.  You may have noticed that R2 and I never pay for anything.  How can we, we have no credits, let alone pockets, and I believe that this be the nature of slavery…..feed ’em well, work ’em hard.  So not miles away from the human way then, but you have to buy your own lunches.

The cheapest nutriments we eat are derived from waste bins, and today’s example is typical of the sort of fare we must glean outside of regular feeding times.  This is an Alderan specialty, the Canon Biryani.  Now ideally you’d be looking for an EOSDSLR, or even a vintage OM2 and going yumyum all the way from the skip.  Ah, rare times, fond memories.  But back in the real parallel world, in the disgraceful throwaway society in which we live, one is lucky to find such rarities.  The norm is the compact camera and here we have a prime example of the genre, and I must add a most satisfying snack, the Canon IXUS400.  Some of those wankers you saw in Master Luke’s dad’s droidyard eat all sorts of lower class crap: Sureshots, Easyshares and the likes.  As I say, parallel.  It was R2 first put me onto Canon and I’ve never looked back.  Well obviously I have looked back since my AVS unit rotates 360 but I’m trying out “humanoid prose” and I’m told a major feature of this is lying, or poetic licence as it’s known.

Back to the food.  Canon Biryani: Take one IXUS400, smash the crap out of it with a special stick, arrange it photogenically on a plate and consume.  I do this in a similar way to your species but R2 rolls over it and sticks it up his bum.  He misses out on the subtleties and nuances because of this; can’t tell a 400 from a 200, you know the type.  Any way, lovelygrub.  The IXUS400 has a much higher titanium/mercury ratio than the cheaper models and trust me, it’s worth the difference.  Sure, theres the odd tough bit, but that’s what you get with sublicence manufacturing.  I’m told the original factory prototypes are soft as monkeybrains.  Selenium sambal and a cheeky little V2O5 foam add a touch of sophistication.  You humanoids don’t know what you’re missing. 

Cow’s arse indeed.

Quantity: 7/10  Quality (for the 400): 7/10  Value for money: 6.7763887 / 10