Cajetan’s father began life
as a toddy tapper on that little strip of land, in the edge of paradise in
Bambolim. The same land, with palm trees and some rocks, was in front of Caje’s
little shack in the lap of the ocean and the hills. Over yonder was the ocean,
erupting in its magnificence in that arch from the Aguada, weaving through
Vanguinim and moving south to Bambolim.
Caje’s little bar/ shack in
the woods on the edge where Bambolim merges into Shiridao, is off a jungle
track. There is a board somewhere which says that it’s called Sea and Sand, but
no one knows or cares. This is simply Caje’s place off the wooded track to his
home. This is where he lives with his mom, the lady who cooks for her home. And
her food becomes the food for Caje’s shack. This is his world- four plastic
tables with chairs, two huts, a mom who cooks meals which liven up lives and
expanse of the ocean and the beach. It’s a slice of divinity which is priceless. Her pork amsol with sea salt, the standard
sausage chilly fry, the home made kismur (dried prawns or small fish) and the
fish curry with boiled rice with mackerel reachado is churned out in a manner that
no restaurant ever can. She is MOM and she CAN cook.
Incidentally folks like
Caje, traditional occupants of the land, are facing cases of coastal violations
when migrants form Karnataka and elsewhere have usurped communidade land and
built illegal bungalows, in so many parts of Goa, like Pedamol. Their lives
will be regularised while a simple Goan boy/man, whose father was a toddy
tapper and he runs a little bar/ shack with his mother, will continue to fight
court cases. But that’s another story.
Last week was rewind time,
to meet an find back folks like Caje who live in their own world of dishing out
warm and simple Goan food from non descript places. In the middle of the week,
on a late night urge and prompted by a fellow food hunter, yours truly drove along the banks of Betim,
Verem and then turned sharply on to Goa’s version of the great Ocean road of
Victoria in Australia. This is the Reis Margos Fort road with the craggy fort
on one side the meandering river/ocean on the left. Just after the Fort and a
little to the left, is the Cajetan equivalent of Reis Margos, called Babazin.
Babzin of course has a well stocked bar and can take in more people and looks a
little more of a conventional small restaurant and bar. It a sea side
restaurant to the core with menu with a twist. The tisrio, (clams), unlike any
other place is made in a very spicy gravy and unlike the normal mix of
coriander leaves and green chillies. The other must at Babzins is prawn
samarachi kodi with dried mango. The variation with tamarind is just as good
but dried mango with the whole mango seed cooked in the gravy, gives class to
the prawn curry like no other twist. Long after each piece of prawn is consumed
lingers the taste of mango infused gravy, the last drop of which can be sampled
by chewing on the mango seed. If food could be both loved and lusted, the
feasting on samarachi kodi at Babzins, is its best manifestation.
Now let’s cut back to good
old Panjim and hit good old D Silvas. He has been an institution
notwithstanding the Beirut type bombing that the Miramar Dona Paula road has
received which almost cut off Nazareth D Silvas little shop. But he stood firm
and so did so many of us. With the road now open, there’s space for parking and
standing to eat the soul food that Nazareth and his team have been cooking for almost
two decades. A recent pit-stop resulted
in the partaking for his cutlet pao- (rava fried beef fillets slipped into
pao). His pork cream chops, choris pao and cafreal cutlets, making snacking a
full meal.
These places will be Goa’s
evergreen response to the Big Mac’s of the world. Big Caje and Big Nazareth and
with salutations to Babzin who we have lost,
have been soldiers of one of
Goa’s utmost identities, it’s food and
its warmth
