Quick Overnight Fermented Batter: Dosa, Uttapam & Pancakes (aka my weeknight magic trick)#

So, um, I’m low‑key obsessed with fermented batters. The kind you mix before bed and wake up to this bubbly, tangy, alive thing that basically makes breakfast/lunch/dinner decide itself. Dosa, uttapam, or even pancakes—same starter, different moods. It’s kinda ridiculous how often I do this. Like if you open my fridge at any given moment you’ll find a jar of batter that looks like it’s plotting something.

The first dosa that got me properly hooked#

I remember this misty morning in Bangalore years ago at MTR—standing in line, half annoyed, half starving—and then that first bite of ghee paper dosa: shatter crisp on the edges, then impossibly soft and slightly sour towards the middle. I went silent. Me and him went again the next day. Back home I chased that flavor. Sorta still am. Closer to home, I’ve queued for Dosa Man in NYC (Washington Sq). He handed me a masala dosa that tasted like sunshine and black pepper had a baby. Little styrofoam plate, total joy. One bite and I was like… why am I not doing this at home every week?

What even is a quick overnight fermented batter?#

Basically: rice + urad dal (black gram without skin) + time + warmth. The wild yeasts and lactic acid bacteria wake up and start munching, and in 8–12 hours you’ve got a bubbly batter with that gentle tang. Traditionally it’s slower and cooler; “quick overnight” is me coaxing it—warm water, right ratio, a smidge of fenugreek, cozy place to sleep. You don’t need fancy gear, but if you’ve got an Instant Pot with the Yogurt setting, oh boy, it’s like giving the microbes a heated blanket.

My go-to ratio (don’t come for me, aunties)#

3 parts idli/dosa rice to 1 part whole urad dal (gota). A teaspoon or two of fenugreek seeds (methi) in the rice soak; it helps with fermentation and that lovely lacey spread later. Optional handful of poha (flattened rice) if you want softer texture for uttapam/soft dosa. Wash and soak 4–6 hours, blend smooth-ish with cold water, mix rice and dal batters together, add salt after fermentation or just a pinch before if it’s super cold where you live.

  • Warmth matters. Aim ~28–32°C (82–90°F). Oven light on overnight = tiny proofing box.
  • Instant Pot on Yogurt-Less or Ferment mode, lid on but not sealed. 8–10 hours usually does it.
  • A tablespoon of yesterday’s batter is wild—like a starter. Helps kickstart.
  • Don’t over-salt pre-ferment. Salt slows your tiny buddies.
  • Grind dal really smooth, rice slightly coarse for dosa. For uttapam I go smoother overall.

If your batter doesn’t rise, don’t panic. Check: was the water too hot (you can kill the microbes), is your kitchen chilly, did you rinse away every speck of surface microbes with overzealous washing (been there). I’ve literally hugged my bowl at 1 a.m. because my apartment was freezing and yes, that actually worked. Desperate measures etc.

One batter, three moods: dosa, uttapam, pancakes#

Dosa night is date night in my house. Heat a cast‑iron or carbon steel tawa till it’s just shy of smoking, rub a cut onion on it (old trick, also smells weirdly great), splash of water to test sizzling, then a ladleful of batter, spread from the center in quick spirals. A dab of ghee or oil on the edges, wait till the lace turns golden. Fold like you mean it. I like a potato masala that’s peppery and not too turmeric heavy, and a coconut chutney that leans fresh and green.

Uttapam is what I do when it’s later in the week and the batter’s a bit more sour—thicker pour, topped with chopped onions, tomatoes, serrano, cilantro, a few curry leaves if I don’t forget. Golden on one side, flip once. It’s a pancake but not—juicy at the center, caramel edges around those onions. Drizzle with ghee and a shake of milagai podi (gunpowder) with sesame oil, because that nutty kick is basically therapy.

Pancakes? Yep. Same batter, different vibe. Thin it a bit with milk or water, a teaspoon of sugar if you wanna go sweet, and I swear the tang against maple syrup makes me feral in a good way. If you’re a sourdough discard person, you already know the vibe—this is like the rice‑dal cousin who studied abroad and learned to party.

Little trends I’m seeing (and loving) lately#

I’m seeing millets everywhere—ragi (finger millet), jowar (sorghum), bajra (pearl millet)—folded into dosa batters for that nutty, mineral‑ish flavor. The “good‑for‑you but also tastes legit” thing is still having its moment, and, honestly, I’m into it. Also chili crisp on dosa? Don’t at me, it slaps. Kimchi uttapam with cheddar shreds—chaotic good. Oat dosa (oats + yogurt + a bit of rice flour) is the pantry pinch hitter for mornings when I forgot to soak. And there’s this mini wave of countertop fermentation hacks—people using oven proof modes, seedling heat mats, and even the Instant Pot sous vide warm settings to nail overnight ferments in cooler apartments. If your space runs cold, you don’t gotta suffer.

If your batter tastes flat, it’s not you—it’s the microbes asking for warmth, patience, and a tiny bit of sugar or poha. Feed them, and they feed you back.

Restaurant bites that live in my head rent‑free#

Semma in NYC (if you can snag a table, congrats) reminded me how deeply south Indian flavors can hit—those layered spices, textures, the unapologetic heat. Not a dosa spot per se, but it made me double down on technique at home. In Chennai, Saravana Bhavan’s ghee roast dosa was like a shiny lacquered crescent moon—touristy, sure, but I licked the chutney cups clean. On the West Coast, Udupi Palace in the Bay Area is nostalgic comfort more than fireworks, but their onion rava dosa is exactly what I want on a gray Tuesday. If you’ve got a tiny neighborhood canteen where the griddle sings from 6 a.m., treasure it. Those places don’t look fancy, but they carry centuries in a ladle.

Okay but why does fenugreek help, and other nerdy bits#

Fenugreek has this mucilage that helps the batter trap gas, so you get better rise and those cute little bubbles that fry into a lacy texture. You’ll also see lactic acid bacteria (think friendly Lactobacillus) and yeasts do their thing—slightly tangy aroma, pH dropping, more digestible proteins. If it smells sour in a clean, yogurty way, you’re golden. If it smells weirdly cheesy or pinkish streaks appear—pitch it. Clean jars, breathable cover. I use a glass mixing bowl with a plate on top—not airtight—so they can breathe but not dry out.

My fails (because, lol, so many)#

I’ve made batter that didn’t rise at all because I used boiling water by mistake, then cried a little and ordered takeout. Once I overloaded with urad dal thinking thicker = crispier (nope, gummy city). Another time I pre‑salted way too much and the ferment stalled like a teenager asked to fold laundry. The good news: you can rescue a mildly under‑fermented batter by letting it sit a few more hours at warm temp or whisking in a tablespoon of seltzer water right before cooking for a bit of lift. Not perfect, but not nothing.

Overnight game plan (the way I actually do it on a work night)#

  • 7 pm: Rinse 3 cups idli rice, 1 cup urad dal. Soak separately. Add 1–2 tsp fenugreek seeds to the rice bowl.
  • 11 pm: Drain. Blend dal first with cold water till fluffy and smooth. Then rice with a touch more texture. Stir together.
  • 11:20 pm: If it’s cold, Instant Pot Yogurt mode or oven light on. Cover loosely. Leave it be.
  • 7 am: Batter should be puffy, airy, a little tangy. Stir down gently. Salt to taste.
  • 7:15 am: Ladle for dosa or keep it thicker for uttapam. Or thin and sweeten slightly for pancakes. Coffee. Happiness.

Toppings, spreads, and chaotic good ideas#

Coconut chutney with heaps of cilantro and ginger is a given. Tomato chutney when I want a sharper hit. Sambar when it’s rainy. Ghee + gunpowder podi is non‑negotiable on crispy dosa edges. For my weird fusion streak: scallion‑sesame uttapam with chili crisp; smoked salmon, dill, and lemon for fermented pancakes (Sunday brunch flex); peanut chutney with a drop of tamarind when I’m bored. I tried a burrata uttapam once, which was too much, even for me. Not everything needs cheese. Calm down, me.

Storage, freezing, and next‑day wins#

Fermented batter keeps 3–4 days in the fridge, getting tangier by the day. I portion a couple ladles into freezer bags, lay flat, freeze—future me always sends a thank‑you note. Thaw in the fridge overnight or under cool water if you forgot. If it’s overly sour for pancakes, balance with a teaspoon of sugar and a bit of milk. If it’s too thick, water. If it’s too thin, a spoon of rice flour. No one’s judging. Well, except that one uncle at the party—ignore him.

Hot pan. Cold batter. Don’t rush the flip. And for the love of crisp, don’t drown your tawa in oil—just enough to singe the lace.

If you like gadgets, but you don’t need them#

A good tawa (cast iron or carbon steel) beats nonstick for that restaurant‑level browning, but nonstick is forgiving if you’re nervous. A ladle you like. A bench scraper or thin metal spatula to coax up the edges. Instant Pot helps if your place runs chilly. Some folks are using seedling heat mats under a towel—budget proofing box! I don’t do that every day, but on cold nights it’s clutch. You can get fancy later. Start with rice, dal, a blender, and your grandma’s scolding voice in your head saying don’t overthink it.

Final bite#

If you’ve never tried a quick overnight batter, give it one weekend. It turns mornings into that cozy diner feeling but, like, at home and kinda better. The smell of the pan hitting that tangy batter is ridiculous—in the good way. And when you get the first lacey dosa to lift off clean, you’ll grin like you got away with something. If you’ve got reciepies or little tricks your family does, pls share, I love seeing the tiny differences that make a dish yours. And if you want more rambly food thoughts and kitchen adventures, go poke around AllBlogs.in—lots of good stuff there lately.