After several trips, Deepa realized that my honeymoon with Goa was finally over. On our last trip together, I had initiated the process of selling our apartment in Vasco and this was my trip alone to sign the papers, which meant this was my last trip (probably) to the place with which I had fallen in love at first sight.
On of the many shacks in Goa
It was a day-long trip and I had to finish off everything and catch my flight back to Delhi at eight in the evening. It was also my second trip to Goa during the monsoons – the first too being a day-long trip and for the same reason. For the formalities I had to go to Panaji and Santosh, who’s bought my apartment and Nisar, our real-estate agent, accompanied me. We reached there at around 1 in the afternoon and the work was done in just half an hour.
Relieved that our work was done we decided to go for a beer or two and lunch before we come back to Vasco. I asked Santosh if he knew of any dhaba where we could try out some local fare. Hearing this both Santosh and Nisar swung into action rattling off names of various eateries and dishes rating them in order of popularity. Finally they zeroed in on a dhaba in Bambolim. Since it was a hot sultry day, by then, I had second thoughts and cursed myself of having come up with the idea – lunch now seemed better in an AC restaurant.
A narrow lane took us to a dhaba or rather, a shack in the middle of a field. There were several cars and two-wheelers parked near it. We stepped out of the car and a light breeze welcomed us. The dhaba was filled to capacity and waiters were dashing all around the place to keep pace with the demanding guests. I chose a table underneath the fan while Santosh disappeared behind the dhaba searching for something…beats me!
On the platter: What’s your take?
“Come here,” he signaled to me and Nisar, who was about to settle into the chair beside mine. We followed. A muddy track led us to another sitting enclosure…this one without fans! There were four plastic tables with four chairs each. We took our seats and Santosh called out for the waiter, an elderly person who looked totally fed up with the customers sitting at the next table and was cursing under his breath in Konkani. We ordered for beer and something the name of which I couldn’t comprehend.
The beer came promptly, perfectly chilled. I always tell my friends that my interpretation of heaven is a chilled beer in Goa – nothing comes close, nothing! Well, this was another such occasion. After a couple of minutes our toothless waiter hurriedly came with a plate of some gravy and placed stainless steel quarter plates and teaspoons in front of us. “Try,” Santosh said pushing the plate towards me. It was prawns with chopped ladies-finger and grated coconut—a combination I could never have thought of! The colour of the curry was fine, but the taste…nothing that one could have ever imagined! As an appetizer it jelled splendidly with the beer. Then came the fried pomfret with semolina coating…beer followed…more of the semolina coated fish fry. This time the piece of the fish got bigger, a single piece covering the entire plate.
The Nehru Bridge on the way to Panjim
In the ensuing chomping, gulping and chatting, the July heat was totally forgotten and I thanked Santosh and Nisar for bringing me there. Both, however, were bent on feeding me—pushing all that was on the table towards me – typical Goan hospitality. After drinking and gorging on these appetizers, our main course arrived. Our waiter was by now fuming, this time at his boss who was allegedly making mistakes in the bills and was blaming him.
The main course had a mountain of rice, more semolina coated pomfrets, and three bowls – fish curry, a dry vegetable with grated coconut and kokum juice. There were no spoons provided so we settled down to using our hands…even better. I’d thought that I wouldn’t be able to finish the rice, but the taste was such that I polished off every morsel in the plate beating my Goan friends at it. I asked Santosh why the kokum juice to which he said that it was to keep one cool in the summer and, most importantly, also good for digestion…I really needed it. The tangy cherry coloured liquid settled down everything in the by-now-overfull stomach.
View of the sea from Anjuna beach
The bill came to Rs 891, which after much argument between three of us, was settled by Santosh. It was indeed a lunch to remember. I have had several meals prepared by locals in Goa, but this lunch was by far the very best…my taste buds are still tingling even as I write. I wished I had come here with Deepa…maybe later. Who knows?