Death of the Dosa

Dosa in Dublin. That for the last few years was my daughter's favorite weekend outing. No we did not quite fly to the emerald isle to get ourselves a thin lentil crepe but enjoyed the preparation from an unknown chef that toiled in a suburban kitchen. The town of Dublin (pop 50,000) is situated not far from our home in the east bay near San Francisco. Here originally a small band of Irish immigrants put roots and nostalgically named it Dublin. They even celebrate an annual St. Patty's day and have a parade. But it does contain a smattering of variety entertainment in the form of foods from other lands. One such was Citrus Indian that opened up five or so years ago. Since we discovered it we have made it part of our regular visits - at least once a fortnight to get ourselves fed on delicacies from the south of India. Like most food joints in suburbia this one is non descript and once used to be a taco station. For some odd reason the demographic pull of Indians overcame that of those craving a taco (or perhaps the taco dude got cited by the department of health) and it transformed into a garishly painted, mispelled menu based, non cold water serving Dosa place. The unknown martyr in the dark confines of what they call a kitchen was good at one thing though. Thin crispy Dosas. This delicacy if made well and served with a lentil and carrot based soup and a ground coconut chilli condiment is heavenly. The crepe itself can vary in diameter and crispiness, which in turn is based on how thick the final product is. The best is just lightly oiled with a golden brown hue and papery thin with a mesh like appearance indicating its airiness. This product used to emerge from the dark kitchen, its avaiability signaled by a hand that stuck out and rang a bell. Then it took less than five minutes for my daughter to devour a five foot long oval roll of this sublime rice and lentil production. On our most recent jaunt we found a new face to disinterstedly show us our table, took our order without lack of any enthusiasm and proceeded to serve a limp, much tinier version of what they call Dosa. We immediately realized what must have happened what with new plastic flowers in the brass vase being a tell that the management had changed - again. Only this time the chef in the dark had forever vanished with the management. Could this go back to being a loco Taco?