Food & travel

Last summer, I made an earnest, if rather unsuccessful, attempt to learn Goan Konkani. By the end of the course I found I still had to rely on exaggerated theatrical expressions to communicate horror at the price of fish, or use wild gesticulations while asking for directions. In contrast, my friends, regular visitors from mumbai, with complete ignorance of the language and terra had little difficulty navigating their way to the best restaurants or beaches.

that’s because, says my friend with a shrug of his tattooed shoulders, we never stray too far from the hotel and we always ask for the same thing on the menu—Fish. there it is, a blueprint to successful holidaying in Goa, if you ever need one. I can’t entirely vouch for the“don’t wander too far from the hotel”rubric because Goa is a rambler’s paradise. But he couldn’t be closer to the truth with his observation that every meal will be gustatory delight if you just stick to fish.

Fish, the only ‘F’ word with any currency in Goa, is a staple you can never go wrong with. just how important this Piscean is to daily well-being can be gauged from the manner in which housewives trip to the gate in their barely-there nighties, as early as seven in the morning, to haggle with the fisherman. take a stroll past a Goan village on any given day between one and two in the afternoon and you can sniff the collective soul of its people in the smell of fried-fish curling over every house. mackerel, kingfish, pomfret, sea bass and, in the monsoon, dried and salted fish. If luck is on your side, you may get to taste the radioactive recheado version at a friendly Goan’s house. If not, visit the neighbourhood restaurant, where balloon-bosomed aunties from next door lash pinkgilled pomfrets with measured strokes of the spicy-sour recheado paste.

the other ‘F’ word that you will enjoy repeating is Feni (fay-nee). Philistines will say it is not a drink, it is a stink. true, the unapologetic bouquet of fermented cashew, red-earth, hot sun and pigs is quite a knockout, yet there is something endearing about it. the branded, store-kept bottles are often cheap, spurious, factory-created imitations of the real thing, but you’ll know when you’ve found authentic feni if it explodes on your senses like the brass band at a village feast. Goan chauvinists will boast about the superior feni that is in their exclusive possession, but with a little wheedling, will proudly spill some into your glass. At a restaurant, ask if the local feni is available. It’s probably not worth it to try the others but don’t leave Goa without trying at least some feni!

Feni, like vodka is colourless, and with the same perplexing likeness to water. every Goan has a story to tell of the instance they inflamed their insides by drinking feni in the mistaken assumption it was water. But that’s not such a bad thing to happen because feni has medicinal properties: it cures indigestion, insomnia, boredom and gravity. It’s inexpensive and tough to find, but if you love Goa, you can summon the Goan sun, sand and beach anywhere in the world with just a glass of feni by your side.

now you shall step inside any halfway-decent restaurant fearlessly, eat fish, drink feni and pray that Goa always stays this pure and simple.