Words are like money; there is nothing so useless, unless when in actual use. -Samuel Butler, writer (1835-1902)
Patrick James Dunn Look what we woke up to! Once we've had breakfast we are off to have a cooking class. Apparently, we will go to the market to buy the ingredients we will then prepare.
Day 21, Field Report: Tuesday, November 17th:
Goa!
Up at 7:00 am this morning, to beetle upstairs to connect to the Net. Although the manager gave us the secret password to his own system, (linksys as opposed to Nilaya, which the guests normally use), we still couldn't sign on in our rooms. Not a big deal as it is so pleasant sitting around the pool. Not as convenient, later in the evening as the skeeters can be a bit of a bother although I've not found them that bad, especially since I spray my ankles with repellant, before going up for drinks and dinner.
At any rate, back down to our room at 7:50 am to have a quick shower and change and then back upstairs to eat another lovely breakfast with the Gang of Three. Sunil was to collect us at 9:00 am so when he arrived we piled into Force One and we set off for Siolim, one of the beach villages. En route we collected Deborah, our wonderful guide for yesterday's outing, who accompanied us to Siolim House where we met Natalie, (Netty), the chef who would be our instructor for the cooking class we had arranged. We left Sunil and Deborah in the van and transferred to the car, with driver, Netty provided. It was easier to park at the various markets we would visit.
First stop was the vegetable and fish market where we bought a lovely red snapper and some of the vegetables to be used in some of the dishes. Although reasonably small, the fish market had a remarkable array of species, everything from tiny sardines through a number of small, tuna-like fish, to lobsters, crayfish and shrimp, as well as mounds of cockles. Netty left us behind while she went to buy the snapper, saying the price would double if we were along. After she had the fish in hand we went further along the riverbank to have it descaled, very efficiently, by one of the chaps who do such work.
Back to the car to drive a short distance to a small house where we would buy a fresh chicken. The live fowl were housed in two large cages in a garage-like structure. When Netty placed her order the owner grabbed one of the chickens by its feet, and brought it, squawking very loudly and unhappily, as if it sensed its doom, and plopped it onto a scale. Once weighed, outside, onto a sheltered porch and the chicken's throat was cut above a large plastic barrel and, the execution complete, its body dropped to the bottom where it gyrated, in its death throes until exsanguination was complete.
The still pulsating carcass then had its feet removed and the feathers plucked by pulling its skin off. Then more loppage and gutting and then the cleaned body was put in a plastic bag and Netty paid for the it. Just as we were leaving another customer arrived and I captured the beginning of the cycle, from first selection, (Dead Chicken Walking!), to weighing process. Left before this unfortunate was on its way to the killing barrel! Video of the Chicken Coop Blues: https://youtu.be/QfYZ8P4FCko
Short drive to Little Siolim House where the Cooking School is housed. It is owned by the same person who operates Siolim House and is a small, three-bedroom hotel. The actual food preparation is done on a covered verandah, off the small living/dining area inside. Netty had prearranged a wide range of spices and vegetables, other than the ones we had purchased, on the counter, near a four burner, gas-stove top. At an adjacent counter, she first filleted the snapper and cut it into chunks, to be used later in the process. Next came the chicken and she showed Jugos how she wished it cut into pieces and he did a very good job, under Lynne's supervision, in following both sets of orders!
Then we set about dicing vegetables and stirring pots once oil had been added and then the necessary spices. The latter came first and then grated coconut, always making sure that the admixture didn't burn as the dish would be ruined and one would needs start from the beginning. No mishaps so when Netty said things were ready the contents of the bowl or frying pan, as the case might be, were placed into a small mixer and blended, with the addition of some water, until the correct consistency was achieved. Once the pastes were made, we set about readying the chicken and fish for their respective pots. After browning, the pastes were added and then stirred until Netty deemed them ready to sit or simmer.
Next came the rice which included a number of vegetables, (green beans, carrots and tomatoes), and lastly, the aubergine, cut into fairly small chunks. All the while we asked about timing, order of adding spices, heat to be used, and the like, as well as listening to her tell us about how she, or her mother, who lives with her and her husband and daughter, a university student prepare regular dishes for the family or how they might celebrate at larger gatherings and what food they might prepare. When entertaining, beef or chicken is used as it is less expensive than fish. Goans, apparently, eat fish curry every day, prepared with much smaller, less expensive species than the Red Snapper Netty bought at the market. Usually only for foreigners like us or for special occasions like birthdays or anniversaries. Our guide, Deborah, and Netty herself, are both Catholics so it is fascinating to be immersed in this predominantly Christian culture after spending the past two weeks surrounded by Hindus and learning more about this incredible culture. A direct result of Goa being a Portuguese colony until about 1961, I believe.
On the weekend, just passed, Netty told us that she had attended a wedding for over 700 people and the night before our class she was at a "small" party for some of the relatives and friends of the wedding couple, at the home of the bride's parents for 150 guests! A wonderful insight into the lives of the local people, something we haven't really experienced to the extent I'd like, traveling as we have been doing, basically more distanced in the hotels, (Wonderful, for the most part and I'm not complaining.), Luxe India arranged.
When most everything was done, we sat down at a table on the front veradah and Netty served us lunch: Chicken Xacuti; Fish Caldine; Savoury Aubergine and Pilao Rice. All the dishes were Goan, a historic combination of Arabian, Portuguese and native cuisine, and were simply delicious, the spices unbelievably subtle, the flavours extraordinary, the fish and chicken and egg-plant succulent beyond belief. What a delight to be a small part of making this wonderful meal and to begin to learn more about the preparation of such food. We hope to be able to replicate these and other such dishes, once home, as we have all the recipes, and a few others, in a small booklet provided to each of us, for future consultation.
Thanked Netty for the simply marvellous time and after tipping her we were collected by Sunny Jim and Deborah. I had brought along five of my shirts for which I was hoping I'd be able to have button-holes made for the collar points to turn them into button-down models. The shirts are absolutely terrific for travelling as they are maid out of iron, wash easily and drip dry quickly without a wrinkle. However, the collars don't lie as flat as I'd like so wanted to modify them. Deborah found a tailor, Gents, not far from our hotel but he was closed until 3:00pm so we returned to Nilaya. Arranged with Sunnil to drive me abck around 4:30 pm so until then I sat by the pool and scribed, enjoying the gorgeous weather adn the cool breeze, chatting with a fellow guest, Gregory Brown, an Australian, now living in London, a film producer, Lord of the Rings II and III, part of his portfolio!
A week ago he suffered a pretty serious motorcycle accident and had reconstructive surgery to his right leg and knee. Just out of the hospital for less than a week, he has a metal walker frame which he uses to hobble around on, on his good leg, the right encased in a large, flexible cast, tightened with Velcro straps, smoking like a fiend, as do many of the other guests. Staff have to help him to and from his room as complex is on a number of levels. He spends much of his time, on his cell and computer, doing business, from snatches of conversation I overhear above the soothing splash of the waterfall at the other end of the pool, at a table near the deep end of the pool. I use it for much of my digitating as the staff have brought out an extension cord to enable us to keep our machinas fully charged. Furthermore, we don't seem to have connectivity in our rooms so if we need to use the Net we are restricted to watching, ("Ogling", according to Lady Darjeeling!), the bikini clad babes, Selena and Camillia, both of Indian origin, from Edinburgh and London, respectively, but now working in Dubai, in Sales and Marketing for different hotels there, on a five-day get-away, between key strokes! (We've had them for drinks a number of times and really interesting to hear about their lives and travels, life in the UAE.
At just before 4:30 pm, I walked down the hill to where Sunil had parked the van and we drove back into Arpora to see if the tailor could do the button-holes. Not a problem, but the price was more than exhorbitant, ₹40 per shirt so a combined total of ₹200, almost $4.03, CDN! Also asked the tailor to put a small patch on the right pocket of one of my pairs of shorts as they are so old and well used that the material is finally starting to wear thin. Asked him to use the gaudiest material he could find just to upset Lady Darjeeling until I have to leave them behind, in Dehli, as I'm afeared that they won't last to be my hiking shorts, of choice, once back in Penticton!
Back to the hotel, thanking Sunil and having him drop me off near the bottom of the fairly long, steep hill leading to Nilaya. A good climb whcih had me puffing and warmed up for my stint on the Elliptizer. Once I'd changed into my gym togs, (Robo Man's birthday present, of a few years ago now, of a terrific MEC red cycling shirt, (Again, poifect for travelling, wick-away type of material for comfortable daily wear, and ease of washing/drying at day's end, so thanks again, Raymondo. Too, too good for cycling in, just yet, however, Dear Reader!)
Getting used to this particular machine so set the time for 73 minutes, knowingI would have a two-minute cool-down to give me 75 minutes by the time I was finished. Managed to burn 1424 calorifics over approximately 11 kmso was quite pleased with workout. Not as many mossies as on the day before so that was fine with my dripping self. Took a quick plunge into the empty pool as it was about 6:35 pm when I was finished on he Elliptizer. Back to the room to shower and do my laundry before changing for dinner. Joined Cora Lee and The Naramatians in their suite, The Blue Room, a very nicely appointed, quasi-mirror-image of suite, The Yellow Room. They had a tasty selection of almonds and spicy peanuts, something we'd picked up the day before, and they were sipping a2014 Grover, La Réserve, Blanc, Maharastra State, 14%, when I knocked. Quite respectable wine and perhaps the best of what we've tasted so far. Not a tremendous amount of varietal flavour but certainly had not expected to find it to be so tasty. ₹759 or about $15.10, so pretty reasonably priced. I started out with Big Boss Cashew Fenny, The Goan Spirit, 42.8%, a bit like Grappa:
Feni, (sometimes spelt fenny or fenim), is a spirit produced exclusively in Goa. There are two types of feni; cashew feni and coconut feni, depending on the original ingredient. The small batch distillation of feni has a fundamental effect on its final character; still retaining some of the delicate aromatics, congeners and flavour elements of the juice from which it was produced. As a thumb rule, the aroma is indicative of a carefully crafted feni. Feni is classified as a "country liquor", and is therefore not allowed to be sold outside the state of Goa.
The word feni is derived from the Sanskrit word phena ("froth"); this is thought to be because of the bubbles that form a light froth when the liquor is shaken in a bottle or poured into a glass. It is generally accepted that coconut feni was produced before and then followed to adapt the same procedure for distilling the exotic cashew fruit. Coconut palms are abundant along the coastline of Western India and Goa, whereas the cashew tree was an exotic species brought by the Portuguese to India. There is ambiguity about when and who started distilling fermented juice into a spirit.The feni consumed in South Goa is generally of a higher alcohol content (43-45% abv) as compared to the feni produced in North Goa. Commercially packaged feni is available at 42.8% abv.
None of the Gang of Three can stomach it so that makes me even happier, especially at ₹290, ($5.84), bottle. I drank it neat the first time but when Deborah suggested one mix it with a locally available soda, a fuzzy lime drink, natureol'a, I picked up a few bottles and was away to the dipsomaniac races, after squeezing in an additional couple of quarters of fresh lime.
The Sisterhood was knocking back the hootch like there was no tomorrow so we opened a second bottle, a 2014 Sula, Maharashtra State, Sauvignon Blanc, 13%, one we'd had before. Not quite as appealing as the Grover but still a good drop at ₹650, $13.09. Jugos wanted to switch to gin so when I returned to our room, he followed me and poursed himself a G'nT with Blue Crystal, Extra Dry, 42%, ₹224.95, $4.53. (Both spirits are distilled in Goa, the later in Raia, Salcette. According to Wikipedia, "Raia is a quiet and picturesque village and part of the Margao Metropolitan area in the South Goa district, close to the city of Margao.It has the distinction of being the first village in Salcette to have been Christianised, when its populace was converted en masse to Christianity in 1560." Jesus and plonk, thanks to the Portuguese!) Funnily enough, the 8 cans of Schweppes tonic cost ₹840, ($16.91), roughly $2/btl.
Nicely lubricated we toddled upstairs to the lovely open dining room, looking out over the pool towards the Arabian Sea, the lights of Arpora winking along the beach and in the surrounding, low hills. A wondrous evening and an even more wondrous meal as we enjoyed a warm lettuce and shrimp salad followed by a Goan version of roulade, instead of meat or poultry, it was Red Snapper, without a traditional filling, such as cheese, vegetables, or other meats. The vegetables were served, artfully arranged beside the fish, both drizzled with melted butter! Although we didn't need another bottle of wine we ordered a 2014 Sula Sauvignon Blanc, our staple white of the trip. Dessert was diced strawberries, a small, deep-fried date-roll, dipped in honey sauce, with a large scoop of creamy ice-cream, garnished with fresh mint.
After the ladies retired, Jugos insisted on buying me a malt so we enjoyed a 16 year old Laphroig. Serena and Camillia had finished their own dinner by then so we asked them to join us and we chatted until just before midnight, solving many of the world's pressing problems and none of our own! Jugos had a second malt but I preferred to freeload, having a couple of glasses of The Nicotine Fiends' white wine. I'm trying to convince them to quit smoking but I despair of the chances that they will. Still, another lovely end to a very full, exciting day. Said thanks and goodnight to our new best friends and made our way to our respective rooms. Found Lady Darjeeling asleep, her book across her ample bosom, snoring gently, beside light still on. Once I'd brushed and flossed, I read for a bit until I was too, too sleepy to continue. Wanted to finish The Narrow Road to the Deep North, as Jugos was desperate for another book, having finished both Tami Hoag's Cold Cold Heat and Michel Bussi's After the Crash, selected by Lady Darjeeling for his reading pleasure, but simply couldn't keep awake to do so. Nudged Mme Coriandre and she groaned, having to turn off her light. Drifted off thinking of the fated chooks and the Blue Barrel of Death, likening their situation to the horrific days on the Burma Railway in August 1943, detailing the agonizing, virtually unimaginable plight of the Australian Far East Prisoners of War.
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