Don't fluff with idli

If you find idlis boring, blame the chef. Making the perfect one is a delicate art of balancing softness and density. And let's be honest, only South India nails it

- By VIR SANGHVI

Hell hath no fury like an idli scorned. A British academic found this out the hard way. Asked to respond to a questionnaire about food preferences, Ed Anderson replied candidly that he thought the idli was one of the most boring foods in the world.

I am an idli lover myself. But I am not surprised he feels that way. Each time I post a picture of the idlis I enjoy for breakfast, I get bemused responses from many north Indians who cannot figure out why anyone would like idlis so much.

In Anderson's case, the organisation that sent out the questionnaire pulled out his dissing of the idli and posted it on X. After which, idli fans attacked his food preferences.

The coup de grace came when Shashi Tharoor, an idli lover and a proud Malayali, joined the debate. (To the extent that it was a debate and not just a lynch mob.) “Poor soul has clearly never had a good one,” Tharoor posted to his 8.4 million followers before getting lyrical: “A truly great idli is a cloud, a whisper, a perfect dream of the perfectibility of human civilisation. It’s a sublime creation, a delicate, weightless morsel of rice and lentil, steamed to an ethereal fluffiness that melts on the tongue.”

Whew! I don't think any opposing view could stand up to Tharoor's eloquence.

Anderson responded that he just preferred an appam to an idli. But by then not many people were listening.

I am on Tharoor's side on this one, but it may be time to ask some questions about the idli.