Those from the
past, friends and family, who are visiting Goa think that if they’ve come here,
they must have a Goanese (yike, that word again) meal. They’re not sure what
that means, but they’ve read on the net that prawns balchao, sorpotel, pork
vindaloo and fried kalamari are a must. There must be salty breeze to breathe
and feni to drink alongside. Unlike in Goa Portuguesa, Mumbai, few restaurants
here have floppy-stomached men wearing long-chuddies, flowery shirts and frayed
straw-hats plucking on out of tune guitars, singing jaded numbers.
Friends from
Jodhpur who came visiting were surprised that we weren’t interested in living
anywhere near the beach. Our little patch of jungle, away from traffic jams and
foreign accents, was where Goa really lived, I told them, and we were happy
there.
“You always were weird,” their eyes
seemed to say. Ignoramus zindabad, I figured, and kept the tongue under tight
control. I die to give lectures about the Real Goa whenever I host some people.
Coming
to the other half of today’s topic. I always buy a new indigenously-made (food)
product to encourage entrepreneurship. I want to believe that India can grow
strawberries and make strawberry jams as good as the ones available in the best
stores abroad. I enjoy the Amul cheeses
and gift them proudly to family and friends from across the oceans. What a pity
they’ve stopped making that wonderfully versatile and tasty cheese-powder.
Trouble is, many of the packaged products are of poor quality. I have no idea
whom the manufacturers are trying to fool. I bought a packet of Limbu Pani
Masaledar made and marketed by Mumbai’s Neel Beverages Pvt Ltc, which the
packet claims is “India’s first in the Premix manufacturing category, an ISO
22000-2005 Certified Co.” I wonder whether the certifiers tasted the product.
Or whether they did a survey of the customers. I’m sure they’ve perfectly
followed the management procedures and documented every move without error. And
the powder that is the outcome of that system tasted … I won’t tell you like
what.
In contrast, another new product,
called ‘nature-cola health drinks’ which sounded like something made at the
back of a garage, manufactured by Team24 Beverages right here in Goa, is
something I’d happily serve my guests. (I or my family, descendants,
neighbours, etc don’t get a paisa in kind, favour or cash from any
manufacturer, factory owner, shop-owner dealer or their relatives. That’s to
set the record straight that whatever I’m writing here is objective and
impartial.)
The famous paos and pois that we
Goans love to feed visitors as ‘our’ bread isn’t always tasty. We may herald
the arrival of the poder on his cycle, alerted by his honking outside our gate
and rush to buy this ‘really goan’ thing. The experience can be disappointing;
few bakeries have maintained their quality.
The balchao and recheado masalas, as
well as the chutneys and powders that are sold as ‘home-made’: do the makers
actually use them in their own homes? At Sangolda, on CHOGM road, there’s a
table where some hard-working women sell ladoos, chaklyo, and other snacks.
They sell and make a profit, I’m sure. The buyers are drivers and low-end
tourists who aren’t likely to come back ever. I don’t think they’re trying to
make a name so that people return just to eat the stuff again. No pride in the
product, no name to be gained, no reputation at stake. But surely those who put
labels to their product, who have invested in factories, machinery and manpower
need to rethink quality? Sometimes I feel allowing the FDI into the country
might be a good idea just so we get a feel of competition and improve our
products. The debate of how it will affect the poor is a different story.
Coming back to the visitors: most
tourists go home happy with the food eaten in the restaurants. But the
take-away gifts, other than cashews and daarue, are lousy: the less said about
the soaps-on-strings the better.
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