Idli is boring. Oops, did I hurt sentiments?

Thru’ the Looking Glass

Last week, it transpired that the easiest way to offend South Indians is to call idli “the most boring thing in the world” (let’s not even get into whether or not the plural of idli is idli). However, unlike the hapless British historian who didn’t expect to be so widely harangued for his candid remark, I fully anticipated the furore. You see, I’m not fond of idli, either. I realise this admission may gain me enemies. However, I’ve always been upfront about my distaste for the dish, despite the resulting indignation. Diehard idli devotees are convinced that I simply haven’t sampled this steamed South Indian specialty from the right source.

When I was heading to Madurai some years ago, a Tamil friend insisted I dine at Murugan Idli Shop. I wanted to like idli. I really did. So, I kept an open mind and took his advice. Sadly, rather than changing my opinion, the idli-eating expedition cemented it. I realised that the essence of a good idli is what I find most repelling -- the soft, spongy texture. As if that isn’t unappealing enough, the prospect of being served idli for breakfast quite frankly makes me want to skip the meal entirely. Let’s face it, idli is saved from its bland state by the accompanying condiments. Unfortunately, to me, consuming spicy sambar or ghee-laden gunpowder first thing in the morning is as unpalatable as idli itself. Bring on the coconut chutney. I’d much rather pair it with deliciously crispy dosa, though!

I get the fact that idli isn’t just a food -- it’s part of peoples’ cultural identity. I’m Australian. Vegemite is, for better or worse, regarded as the symbol of Australia’s national identity. Yet, this icon is universally hated by people from other countries. What’s vehemently said about Vegemite makes “boring” idli seem insipid. Former US President Barack Obama didn’t hold back on his disrespect when he announced that Vegemite was “horrible”. Sweden also deemed the yeast-based spread worthy of display in its Disgusting Food Museum. It joined such delicacies as maggot-infested cheese from Sardinia and baby mouse wine from China. Oh, the honour! Mercifully, judging by the silence on Twitter, it appears no Indian foods warranted inclusion in the disgusting collection.

Museum visitors are encouraged to taste the exhibits. And yes, some do vomit. Icelandic hakarl (fermented shark meat) claimed the latest victim. Nevertheless, the museum wasn’t set up with malicious intent. Instead, it aims to challenge peoples’ perceptions of what’s edible, and to show how disgust is cultural and varies from country to country. What’s appetising to one person may be objectionable to another. The end goal is to get people to embrace foods they initially considered foul. It’s a lofty ideal. I wouldn’t touch that maggoty cheese with a ten-foot pole! Alternatively, people may come across foods in the museum that they don’t consider to be disgusting at all and wonder why they’re on show. What’s certain is how subjective peoples’ tastes are. When the extent of this becomes apparent, opinions matter less.

I’m not bothered by what people think of Vegemite. I’m not going to try to convince anyone of its appeal, either. In the same manner, I accept that many Indians think Western food is tasteless. My own husband decided he’d rather learn to cook than eat sandwiches for lunch when I became tired of preparing Indian meals every day during the lockdown. And then, there are those Indians who completely avoid local food when travelling. Some even have cooks along on guided group tours. They don’t want to try other cuisines. Sure, they may be inflexible, but why take offence over their preferences. Perhaps they can’t stomach cereal, toast and jam for breakfast!