I've never given much thought to how the tortillas sold in US supermarkets are made, I had seen Mexican women in Californian restaurants making fresh ones, so my mind made up massive factories filled with labourers churning out tortilla loads on command.
So how does this become about chapatis, where is the chapati angle and where are the chapatis? You see, my missus likes to buy ready-made frozen chapatis from some Indian shop nearby. Every few weeks, she goes to this grocery store to buy rice, ready to eat chapatis and other foods. The chapatis are made by a company in New Jersey and go by the Indian name Paratha. I've always thought that they were not really chapatis but since I cannot cook chapatis even if my life depended on it, I try not to give voice to my thoughts lest I be denied the pleasure of even these parathas. Imagine then how I must look forward to the nights when my missus evens it out and gives us a treat of home cooked Kenyan chapati. On the very day we had these pretend chapatis for lunch, we went out to a Mexican restaurant for dinner. Earlier that day, my curiosity on the parathas had led me to examine the packaging as I tried to find out where they were made. It surprised me to see that they were made right here in the US. This got me thinking that there may be a machine thingy of some sort that can be used to manufacture chapatis in industrial quantities. You can then imagine my delight when at dinner, I saw a kitchen-scale gas-powered tortilla making machine in the Mexican restaurant. Sat as we were by the kitchen, I managed to catch a glimpse of the machine in action. With my mind now tangled in the mystery, I made sure that I had asked a waiter about the machine and also that I had taken a picture of it with my cell phone. And when we got home I went online to look up tortilla making machines. For anyone thinking of venturing into that business here, I don't think the perishable nature of chapatis and the population of Kenyans in the US would make it a lucrative business. But that is not to say that there can be no use for the machine in Kenya. The market potential for this kind of business in Kenya is enormous. Think about mid-to-high cost schools, middle class restaurants, working class Nairobians who live on their own and don't have time to cook, think of the demand from weddings and all manner of social functions. The intrepid entrepreneur, you could even have hawkers peddling chapati's to hungry motorist stuck in traffic jams on Uhuru Highway. To cap it all, you don't have to worry about the cost of cooking gas. Instead of using Liquified Petroleum Gas (LPG), you could use bio-gas to cook the chapatis. All you need to do is locate your business close to a dairy farm and set up your own bio-fuel supply. That way you are immune to the price of energy and can sell your chapatis competitively. As the business expands, may be you can now switch to LPG. For all its worth, it may also possible to get favorable funding from a NGO or micro-financing institution for such a venture in Kenya. Had I been a Kenyan abroad facing the prospect of deportation or stuck in a low-end job, this is something I would quickly jump onto. It may seem unappealing at first but when the money starts to flow in, no one will care about how you made your wealth. if you are lucky, they may even call you Machapati like the Munguku founder in Kiambu who started out selling eggs and now has businesses worth multiple millions. |
First things first. The idea may work very well in the United States, the clue may be in expanding beyond the Kenyan market. After all, if it is a machine then it can probably be set to make all the regional variations on chapatis, including parathas and phulkas. Even in Kenya this may be a requirement for although we call them all chapati, there is much difference in the preferred renditions, usually based on what one's mother spun.
Personally, I cannot abide thick ones, or hard ones. I know a couple of creative cooks who add a little egg white and milk to their chapatis.