Back in my day, Sundays always meant two things- Dosae and chutney for breakfast, and one Kannada movie on Doordarshan at 4 pm. This was a strict routine in most of the houses where I lived (and for all the five people who read this, where you lived as well). People would actually feign surprise if one had had anything other than Dosae (or an occasional Idly) for breakfast. Dosaes were served with chutney,and if your mom was in the mood, potato palya. Chutney. There are over a hundred thousand varieties of chutnies, and I'm not exaggerating. What's unique about this humble side dish is that it tastes different depending on the one who makes it. If your mother makes chutney, it tastes like your childhood, flooding nostalgia in your mouth. If your disgruntled wife makes it, it will taste like her cries about your selfish insensitive self who doesn't care about of any of her needs and her tears. So sad. But seriously, if just want some chutney to go with...
Injurious to health if taken seriously. Potential NSFSP, read at your own discretion. Don't tell my mom.