Chapter 8: Roti
What snapped me out of my shock was a familiar smell and sound.
Sizzleeeā
“W-Wait… what did I just see?”
The rich smell of an egg frying in oil brought me back to my senses.
The roti that had puffed up like a balloon and then flattened again now had a fried egg placed on top of it.
Then came thin slices of purple onion, bell pepper, a little chili pepper, and grilled chicken from a skewer.
Lime juice was squeezed over everything, and several spices and three different sauces were quickly sprinkled on top.
Despite her age, the old woman moved her hands incredibly fast.
Not just experienced, but truly masterful.
The combination looked so delicious that I almost forgot what I had just witnessed.
Soon, the finished Kathi Rolls were handed to me.
Not one.
But two.
At that moment, I remembered something I had temporarily forgotten.
The roti wrapped around them had been cooked directly over flames fueled by dried cow dung.
Gulp.
Without realizing it, I swallowed.
Partly because it looked delicious.
Partly because I was terrified.
“Why does it look so good?!”
“What are you doing? Take them.”
“Ah… th-thank you.”
Arjun urged me from beside me.
I accepted the Kathi Rolls from the old woman.
Smiling, Arjun said,
“Go on, try it. This is Kathi Roll made with real traditional Indian roti. Remember the taste.”
“…”
“Why?”
I hesitated.
I couldn’t exactly tell him that I was worried because it had been cooked over cow-dung fire.
Arjun tilted his head in confusion.
I squeezed my eyes shut and raised one of the rolls to my mouth.
Crunch.
Arjun had recommended it so confidently.
If I acted disgusted, I might ruin the good impression I had built with him.
Having lived abroad for years, I knew something very well.
Nothing disappointed locals more than saying the restaurant they proudly took you to wasn’t good.
When I first arrived in France, Evan had taken me to what he claimed was the best restaurant in England.
It turned out to be a fish-and-chips place.
To me, it was just fried cod and fries.
When I casually said it wasn’t really my thing, Evan had looked secretly disappointed for days.
So if I hesitated now, Arjun’s opinion of me would definitely drop.
“Come on. Just eat it. People overseas think blood sausage is disgusting too, right? This is basically blood sausage. It’s blood sausage.”
I took a large bite.
The first thing I tasted was the roti.
It had been cooked directly over the cow-dung fire.
But contrary to my fears, there was no strange smell.
There was only a faint grassy aroma.
Mostly, I tasted the rich flavor of oil and perfectly toasted wheat.
“It’s actually pretty good?”
Then came the crunchy onions and bell peppers mixed with fresh lime juice.
The spices and sauces slipped between them, creating a complex combination of flavors that delighted my tongue.
Several colors spread through my mind thanks to the spices.
There was a reason Indians ate this food everywhere.
It was genuinely delicious.
“This is really good.”
Before I knew it, both Kathi Rolls were gone.
After brushing off my hands, I followed Arjun back to the restaurant.
Inside, Shambu was sitting at a table in the corner watching TV.
When he saw us, he stood up.
“You’re back, Dukandar-ji?”
“Yes, Shambu. Everything alright? Did the potatoes that were supposed to arrive this morning come?”
“Yes. I put them in the kitchen.”
Arjun continued speaking English because of me.
Which meant I had to keep listening to Shambu’s awkward English.
Following Shambu’s gesture, I saw three large sacks of potatoes stacked on the kitchen floor.
Arjun nodded approvingly.
“Good work. Your Kathi Roll is with Ishaan. Eat it and then start preparing the potatoes.”
“Got it.”
Shambu walked toward me and held out his hand.
That was when I realized why I had received two rolls.
One of them had been his.
At least tell me beforehand!
I looked at him and laughed awkwardly.
“Hahaha…”
* * *
Shambu sat in the corner peeling potatoes while staring at me as if lasers might shoot out of his eyes.
“Come on, I’ll buy you another one.”
Even when I offered to replace it, he still looked upset.
There wasn’t much else I could do.
Since we’d be riding home together later, I decided I’d buy him one then.
Just then, Arjun’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
“Ishaan, stop looking elsewhere and pay attention.”
“Ah, yes, Dukandar-ji.”
I immediately focused on the lesson.
“Roti isn’t difficult. But there are a few important rules. The most important thing is atta.”
“Atta?”
“Whole wheat flour. Unrefined flour.”
“Does roti always have to be made with whole wheat flour?”
“Not necessarily. Plenty of people make it with white flour. But that’s not real staple food.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not healthy. Whole wheat is healthier.”
“Healthier?”
“White flour isn’t good for you. Whole wheat contains more beneficial nutrients.”
His explanation reminded me of middle school.
My mother had once heard somewhere that brown rice was healthy.
After that, she made brown rice every day.
My sister and I hated it.
Mom always said it contained more fiber and minerals than white rice.
It was probably the same idea.
“Ah…”
I nodded.
Arjun poured the atta onto the worktable and instructed me to begin making the dough.
“Start by pouring out the atta. Actually, since this is your first time, let’s measure properly. Use this cup. Two cups of atta.”
“Two cups.”
Using a large mug-like cup, I scooped two cups of flour.
Because it was whole wheat flour, it had a slightly beige color.
I poured it onto the board.
Arjun continued.
“Add about this much salt. Then mix it evenly and make a hole in the middle.”
Using about half a teaspoon of salt, he sprinkled it over the flour.
Following his instructions, I mixed everything together and formed a small well in the center.
“Is this deep enough?”
“Yes.”
“How much water should I add?”
The amount of water seemed important.
Arjun nodded approvingly.
“Good question. Normally, two cups of atta use three-quarters of a cup of water. But it’s never exact.”
“It isn’t?”
“The condition of dough changes depending on the season, weather, temperature, and humidity. Eventually you’ll learn to judge it by feel.”
“By feel?”
“You’ll understand once you’ve practiced enough.”
Compared to Evan’s methods, Arjun’s teaching was far more scientific.
Yet strangely relaxed in certain areas.
I nodded and followed his next instruction.
“Now slowly mix the water and flour. Don’t let the water spill over.”
“Got it.”
Making dough for the first time felt awkward.
It stuck to my hands constantly.
As I tried to scrape it off, Arjun stopped me.
“Don’t bother. It’ll disappear naturally. Keep mixing. It’s easier if you use your hands like this.”
Following his example, I pressed the dough with the base of my palms.
As the dough came together, the sticky bits on my fingers gradually disappeared.
Everything was being absorbed back into the dough.
I continued kneading.
The dough slowly became elastic.
After about ten minutes, it formed a smooth ball.
Arjun explained:
“At this point, you divide it into serving-sized portions, roll them into balls, and flatten them. That’s enough. But if you want better texture and flavor, you can add ghee or perilla oil.”
“We’ll use ghee. Think of it as liquid butter.”
“Okay.”
I carefully poured the ghee he handed me.
When he told me to stop, I mixed it into the dough and kneaded again.
The dough immediately became softer.
Arjun cut off a piece and pointed to it.
“This is roughly the amount needed for one roti. Watch carefully.”
He rolled the piece into a ball.
Then he flattened it slightly and rolled it out with a small rolling pin.
Within moments, it became a thin circular sheet about the size of a hand.
“Normally, you roll it out like this. But if you want more layers, you can roll it into a spiral like a snail shell first, flatten it again, and then roll it out. Once you cook it on a tawa, that’s roti.”
Apparently he had already heated the stove while I was kneading.
He spread a little ghee onto the tawa.
The rich buttery aroma drifted upward.
As soon as he placed the dough on the pan, small bubbles appeared across its surface.
At the same time, the wonderful smell of baking bread filled the air.
“Now you flip it once.”
Without even using a spatula, Arjun casually flipped the roti with his hand.
The underside was perfectly golden brown.
Then he rotated it across the pan.
The bread puffed up dramatically.
Just like the one I had seen cooked over the cow-dung fire earlier.
“Once it puffs up like that, it’s done. Since this is your first dough, go ahead and taste it.”
I took a bite of the first roti made from dough I had prepared myself.
A rich, nutty flavor filled my mouth.
There were no fillings.
Nothing added.
Yet it was surprisingly delicious.
“It’s good!”
“Right? Food always tastes better when it’s something you’ve made yourself.”
He smiled.
“Now keep practicing until breakfast service starts. Then we’ll open for business.”
“Huh? You’re letting me make them already?”
I blinked in surprise.
Did he really expect me to start serving customers after only a few tries?
Arjun looked at me as if I were crazy.
“Of course not. Even if roti is simple, you can’t just serve customers whatever you make.”
“This is practice. Work on it after hours. Once your roti is good enough for customers, I’ll let you handle it.”
“Until then…”
He grinned.
“You’ll be washing dishes.”
“…Washing dishes?”
I had thought I was finally free from dishwashing.
The shock on my face must have been obvious.
At that exact moment, I heard someone snicker.
I turned around.
Shambu quickly put on an innocent expression.
“Oh, the TV was funny.”
The television was showing cricket.
There was absolutely nothing funny happening.
That bastard was definitely laughing because I still had to wash dishes.
The smug smile hadn’t even left his face yet.
Looking at him, one thought crossed my mind.
“Sigh… maybe I should charge him interest too.”
That morning he had begged me not to have his salary confiscated because he’d drive me to work instead.
And now he was acting like this over a single Kathi Roll.
