In
a dimly lit bar on arterial village connect road from Colva to Benaulim ,Varca
and beyond, where luxury hugs the coasts with five star hotels, while South
Goa’s heart beats in the villages and interior roads, Papod shuffles his way to
the counter of his tavern and fixes a drink for himself. He then half limps to
the kitchen, his slightly weak knee not quit e holding up, peeps and tells
wifey what the order is and then walks back to the living too to sit on a table
for an “update’ on the hurly burly of Benaulim on that day. After all no day in
verdant and pulsating Salcette can be consigned to history without an oral
rendition with many versions, many of them preserved for posterity within the
walls of taverns and tea stalls and cafes in the tintos.
Papod is the patrao
of the Tequila bar in Benaulim. There is no confirmation on whether his mae
named him Papod or whether this sobriquet was acquired lovingly as he grew up
in his world, his village. Rio is what he is officially known as, o r should
be, but for all practical purpose he is Papod and that’s what he always will
be.
So, as we were
saying, Papod, ensconced himself in one of the four or five tables in what is
surely his living room chatting with his buddies who also double up as his
paying customers. It is a fair deal. If you walk across to the end of the room
and help yourself channas and other munchies to go with your drinks from the
big plastic containers, keep a mental note and tell Papod as you settle your
bill.
And how is the bill
written? On Papod’s exercise book he scribbles four bills per page and tears
the quarter out and giv es you yours. For regulars he just mumbles the amount.
There’s an ease
with transactions in these taverns in South Goa. It is something that gets done
purely because there has to be a give and take to keep the home fires of the
likes of Papod burning, which in turn enable eclectic evenings. But the
relationship is not transactional. It’s human. People walk into taverns not to
eat or drink, that is an aside, but to be i n surroundings that value true to
life- conversations, friends, easy chatter, discussions on village issues, a
complete furry ball of life.
Papod and Lady
Papod , working speedily in the kitchen with the devotion of a monk in prayer
or a nun in service , obviously know all that but the road to divinity needs to
be paved with food and they understand their role as torch bearers of some of
the finest traditions of Goan spicy cooking. Aad maas ( made with pork bones
-ribs if you please, but don’t call them spare ribs because when a goan cooks
her aad maas, there are no ‘ribs’ to spare), sorpotel, vindaloo, beef chilly
fry and loads of the small fried fish.
Perhaps, dining
here is a sign that you have surrendered to the elements of nature to take care
of you, because this isn’t an environment for nutritionists or cholesterol
watchers, but devotees of soul up-lifters. And Benualim maintains a fine
tradition of creating them.
Cut to a little
place on the road between Maria Hall and Colva police Station opposite the
Menino Jesus Chapel in the specific location of Padriguelrm. Known as Little
Banana, this is indeed a blink and you miss pace. But over time, locals and
settlers have made it their go to place for some of the best Goan thalis on
this side of the Zuari. There’s nothing complicated about the way the mother, son
Francis and his family run Little Banana. They have five tables which can seat
20 people and if you don’t get to sit, take the food away. But for thalis,
eating right there is the only option. The fish is freshly fried and the curry
has weight and gravitas. You know when your curry is serious, caries the weight
of reputation and honour and presents itself like a fountain of goemkarponn.
As promised we
shall speak about the third in the trio of Benaulim’s picks with a confession
that your’s truly hasn’t quite managed to go there but has picked up
conversations from locals. Hence this deserves a visit for a more from the
heart description. Fernando’s place in Seralulim, has no name but his beef
chops and fish cutlets do. It’s a slice of Goa that should never be lost, as
local as local can get and one of the best places to discuss and chat about one
of Salcete’s best known traditional sport. A trip is surely due.
And then there are more, and still
more. They are the sentinels of Goa’s way of life, and they preserve them so
naturally without quite realising the role they play as custodians of not just
culinary, but Goa’s social heritage.
