Eighteen years back, Mrs Fazeelat Jahan moved from Madras to Karachi and, if reports are to be believed, started the city's first Dosa outlet. These days the Dosas are made by her protege, Anwar, and they come in three varieties - Kheema, Chicken and Aloo.

Anwar was quick with his dosas - high flame, quick turn - kept talking as he made them, was enthralled at meeting a South Indian and asked if he was following the right procedures. "Do you add more oil? Do you make it crisper?" (If only I could tell him that I knew even lesser about Dosa making than him)

The power of the Dosa lies in the side dishes. The chutney was a bit bland but the impressive bit was alongside. It would be hard to find Tamarind concentrate (or vetha kozhambu to a Tamilian) outside South India but to get it in Karachi, hot and tangy, was one big surprise.

I told him there was less salt in the Dosa, mentioned that a pinch of masala and chilly powder could have been added to the aloo, and praised the vetha kozhambu with a lavish "just like in South India". He promised to follow all the advice (God save him) and requested that I returned for more Dosas soon.

Just one taste was enough to crave for home food; enough to miss my mother that little bit more.