I’m maybe a bit ridiculous when it comes to dosa. That’s the South Indian crepe made by soaking lentils and rice overnight, blending it, and letting it ferment to the point where the rice and lentils don’t need to be long-simmered to be digestible. Sounds science-y, right? Well that’s food and cooking for you. To Indians, it makes perfect sense. And now, after years of eating dosa, it does to me too.

I only say I’m ridiculous about dosa because when I first moved to Montreal I went out of my way to find the best one in the city, as I do most things, I guess. As a lactose-intolerant person and a lover of spices, Indian food has a love-hate relationship with me. I love butter chicken, it hates me. I love korma, it hates me. I hate chafing dishes of lukewarm Indian buffet food, it probably doesn’t hate me, but we’re not getting married anytime soon.

I did a lot of research before choosing what I figured were probably the two top places in the city for dosa to “throwdown” in my series of restaurant reviews on Midnight Poutine. I’d already been to Maison Indian Curry House and knew the dosas there to be pretty oily, but also beautiful – long and crispy, wrapped around a fairly innocuous potato filling. It came with sambhar and a few lacklustre chutneys, and it still won out over Sri Lankan restaurant Jolee.

So, I had to give the victory to Indian Maison Curry House fairly reluctantly, because I’d heard there was a better place. Except it wasn’t officially in Montreal. It was in Dollard des Ormeaux, a fairly short car ride or a VERY long public transit trip away. God bless the STM, right? So for three years I never went there. I fermented my own rice and lentils and tried so many skillets and pans to cook mini dosas (since actual dosas require an enormous, special pan), and burnt so many of them, and created fillings that were healthier and better than Maison Indian Curry House, but generally got worn out before making the sambhar and chutneys. Sometimes it’s just really nice to go to a restaurant and see the hours and hours of work put into your plate and know that because the place is serving so many people it makes economic sense for them to offer so many little portions of each thing on the plate and also to know that because of these other wonderful people, you are eating at 6pm instead of midnight after toiling for far more time in your kitchen than you would have hoped.

All this to say that it took me three years to get Bombay Choupati, the supposed mecca of South Indian dosa. I took a Communauto car, braved Friday rushhour traffic on multiple highways, and ended up turning circles on Boulevard des Sources, trying not to hit other cars while I looked for the number 5011 in all the strip malls on boulevard des Sources. It’s honestly a land of strip malls. I figured there’d be a few and it’d be easy to spot. Not so. For all those making the journey, know that it’s just south of Gouin on the east side of the street and you WON’T see the restaurant from the road, so turn into a parking lot sooner rather than later because turning around in this area is no fun.

Three years. Was it worth it? Was the dosa actually worth a car rental, horrible traffic, getting lost, and swearing a fair bit?

Yes. Yes it was.

It had the little holes in the shell that I love and the slightly sour taste matched by a fair bit of salt, and the filling! It had real flavour! Fresh curry leaves and whole spices, and enough turmeric to tinge it but not too much oil to make it soggy. It was a little sweet thanks to using a good kind of potato and I just wanted to keep eating it, but I had to stop because I’d ordered about 5 more dishes. I figured if I’m going to come once in three years I better make the most of it. Leftovers are allowed, after all.

It didn’t have coconut chutney or even coriander chutney, because at least one of those had dairy in it and I couldn’t have it, but I got the sticky tamarind chutney and the sambhar at least. Even the sambhar was lovely. I eat it on its own and I dip the softer parts of the dosa into it sometimes too. Dipping the crispy parts of the dosa into it are sacrilege because it just fades to mush. And this dosa had more than enough flavour on its own.

When eating dosa I first eat just the crisp ends to taste the dosa itself, then open it up and tear off pieces of the ends to scoop up the potato filling. I work my way in from the ends to the middle so the last thing I eat is the soft part of the crepe that has been soaking up the heat and (most often) oil from the potato filling. Theoretically this is all done with the right hand, which is washed before the meal. The left hand is reserved for less hygienic activities. There are ways to scoop and squeeze and cradle the dosa and the filling so it’s not so messy this way, but just think about learning to use chopsticks or even Western utensils – it takes time and practice. And there are lots of non-Indians at this place and I was the only one eating with my hands. But if I have the opportunity to eat with my fingers I always do. There’s something so satisfying about putting the food directly into my mouth. One more part of experiencing every bite of the meal.

I ordered the fire dosa that came with chili powder sprinkled on the inside of the dosa. “Yes! I like it hot!” I told my server, the daughter of the dosa cook and owner. The other server was the son – charming, even asking if I wanted him to sit down and help me finish all the food I ordered, never condescendingly. If I hadn’t wanted leftovers and he hadn’t been working I would have let him.

If you like heat the fire dosa is perfect, because the sweetness in the potatoes and salt and fermented sour taste in the dosa are the perfect balance. Picture a flavour scale completely stationary, weighted evenly on four sides. That’s a food miracle.

The other traditional south Indian dishes are idli and vadai, which are fairly similar. Both fermented dishes of rice and/or lentils. The vadai are generally deep fried and the idli are steamed and served with or in the same sambhar as the dosa, and with the same chutneys. Idli are very much an acquired taste. While most people like dosa right away because it’s like a wrap and there are enough textures and flavours involved to keep you occupied, idli are all one doughy texture where you can really taste the sourness from the fermentation. They’re like disk cakes with some air pockets and without the sweetness of the potatoes…well, the scale is a little off balance. But I love them. You should try them. And these ones were served directly in the sambhar and didn’t even fall apart after soaking in liquid for a few minutes, so they had more going for them than the plain steamed disks. I’d planned to use them to soak up chicken and lentils from my dinner thali to come, but because of the liquid this didn’t pan out.

Did I mention this is all gluten-free? Because that’s another big selling point for me. When do I get to eat wraps?

Appetizers packed into the tupperware I’d brought, I moved on to my main course (and sides). The menu is small, with simple curry combos of one dal (lentil dish) or vegetable dish with rice and naan for $8. Prices go up to a whopping $12 for chicken vindaloo.

I got the vindaloo because I’d just made my own version a few nights before and I knew how much work it was to make it truly from scratch with fresh spices. So I wanted to compare. I also chose it because the other chicken dishes on the menu had cream – their supposedly amazing butter chicken and chicken korma – and I didn’t just want a vegetable thali since I come here once every three years…Instead of naan I got pappadums because they’re made with lentils not wheat. The Basmati rice that comes with it is the vegetable rice (frozen corn, peas and carrots) tinged with turmeric and topped with fresh coriander.

I think my chicken vindaloo was better…

This is a VERY greasy dish in general because it’s made with a whole lot of chicken parts. Even though they’re cooked skinless, all the chicken juices plus an added 1/4 cup to 1/2 cup of oil are used to make the rich sauce. If you make it a day in advance you can skim off a lot of the fat at the top, but that extra day also lets the flavour of the fresh spices fade, so it’s a compromise. It’s better on day one. At least the chicken was incredibly flavourful and tender. I like the spicing to be a bit more complicated (cumin, coriander, cardamom, cinnamon, star anise, ginger, garlic, curry leaves, mustard seeds, mace, and cloves – all whole), but a lot of those disappeared in the dish if they were there in the beginning. Still, it’s lovely, and if you’ve never had it like I have, it’ll knock your socks off.

I LOVE baingan bharta – the eggplant dish cooked in way too much oil. Every recipe is different. Every eggplant is different, for goodness sake. There are the big dark purple ones and the long, thinner, light purple Asian ones, and the mini ones that can be dark or light purple, or white, or lined. Some are sweet, some are bitter, mostly depending on how many seeds they have (generally, bigger = more seeds = more bitter), and then it all comes down to how the dish is prepared. Some people roast the eggplant whole, some chop it into cubes and salt the cubes to draw out the bitterness. Some just toss it with a whole lot of oil and roast it. Some bharta features roasting tomatoes and some just tomato paste. I have a recipe that calls for 3/4 cups of ghee (clarified butter) for 4 baby eggplants or two large eggplant. 3/4 cups! That’s ridiculous! But you’re not supposed to suck up the sauce. It’s there to help cook the whole spices and onions and add a depth to the flavour. Eggplant is an oil sponge, though, so a little of this dish goes a long way.

Bombay Choupati’s bharta was so-so. Under-salted, lacking smokiness and sweetness from the roasting. Same went for my other favourite dish – okra. This slimey vegetable is so much fun to eat. Its little green seeds kind of like green bean seeds pop out and crunch a little while the rest of the dish is a delicious slippery mess.

The fresh green onions were a very nice touch. The raw white onions were pungent.

So stick with the dosa. It’s the specialty. You can get good butter chicken and inexpensive thalis (though not made with as much love, I’m sure) in Parc Ex. You come here for dosa and idli and vadai. Mostly dosa. Praise the chef. Praise her friendly children who give amazing service. Tip well. Come back in less than three years.