Appam has a reputation for being difficult that it doesn't entirely deserve — what it actually demands is patience rather than skill. The batter is rice and coconut, blended fine, left to ferment overnight with a little help from toddy or yeast depending on who's making it and what's on hand. By morning it should have risen and gone faintly sour in the good way, bubbling gently if you tap the bowl.
Our cook swears, with the confidence of someone who has made this thousands of times, that second-day batter always makes better lace than first-day batter — something about the fermentation settling into itself overnight that a few extra hours won't replicate if you rush it. We've never found a reason to argue with her about it.
Cooking it is the fast part: a hot, well-seasoned appachatti, a ladle of batter swirled quickly around the edges so it thins out to lace at the rim and stays soft and a little spongy in the center, a lid on for a minute or two, and it's done. Served with a vegetable stew, or with the sweet coconut milk version we sometimes make for a slower Sunday breakfast, it's the kind of dish that rewards someone who started it the night before and disappoints anyone trying to shortcut it the same morning.