Global Goa: The world on a plate
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PANAJI: Try to imagine Indian food without chilies. We produce, consume and export far more than any other country — more than 30% of global supply — but the fact is chilies were unknown in the subcontinent until they first introduced from South America just over four centuries ago. Entering via Goa along with potatoes, corn, guavas, chickoos,
in a stream of dozens of other plants and fruits from the "New World"
of the Americas, these imports created a revolutionary and permanent
shift in Indian diets and palates.
Another example: British colonialists annexed Upper Assam specifically in order to replaced its fabled old-growth forests with vast tea plantations. Up to that point, the only Indians familiar with the beverage were a few tribals in what is now Arunachal Pradesh. But it took just 100 years for chai to become our national drink, today Assam alone produces 11% of the world's tea crop.
These and myriad other examples demonstrate that whatever its attendant complications, there can be no doubt globalization has always delivered a culinary bonanza. Besides ingredients, there's also been a profound dispersal of new techniques, that led to entirely new ways of thinking about food.
In Bengal, the Portuguese first horrified locals by splitting milk to make cottage cheese (there called 'chhana'). But what was first considered an abomination immediately became the central ingredient of a whole range of sweets, including sandesh and rossogulla. Today, these are the very epitome of Bengali culinary identity. The process works in both directions equally effectively: the brilliant Mexican Nobel Prize winner, Octavio Paz has recounted how a nun from India wound up inventing one of Mexico's most iconic dishes, Mole Poblano.
Even more than other places, Goan food has greatly benefited from our homeland's historic role as a melting pot of cultures. After all, we experienced one of the earliest crucibles of what is now touted as globalization.
So it is impossible to imagine our most cherished dishes without the influence of the outside world, even while remembering the great Goan artist and gourmand, Francis Newton Souza's constant refrain - "our versions are always better than the originals!"
Thus, our sorpotel is a much more soulful, fiery version of the Portuguese original. Our bebinca is a considerably more sophisticated confection than the South East Asian sweet it is based on. And no Brazilian has ever distilled anything nearly as fine as feni from the cashew, despite the plant being native to that country (the word 'caju' is itself an import from an Amazonian language).
Despite attendant pressures and anxieties, we must note that Goa still remains one of India's most profound cultural crossroads. We now host tens of thousands of permanently resident neo-Goans from across the world, as well as unending numbers of Indian migrants. Many of our villages are every bit as multinational as Bangalore, with even small schools often including dozens of nationalities in their student bodies.
This 21st century churn has just as much foodie excitement as centuries past. Goa might be a fraction of the size of its neighbours, our population laughably tiny when compared the cities sprawling within an hour or two's flying distance. But very few places feature such an extraordinary variety of food available in our markets and restaurants, globalized demand has delivered the world onto our plates.
It is notable that much of the best "international food" available in Goa is made from local ingredients, right here in-state. Italians are making mozzarella, Frenchmen bake baguettes and croissants. The famous British butcher of Arpora turns out hundreds of kilos of what food guru Karen Anand (herself a Goan) describes as the "best bangers in India".
Today, the village of Anjuna by itself produces yummy Mexican corn chips, silken Russian-style sour cream, and truly superb French Dijon mustard, among a huge range of other artisanal produce. You can expect these fine proucts to go nationwide in short order, you simply can't beat the quality anywhere in India.
Goa's burgeoning food revolution has nothing to do with government efforts. In fact, mamy entrepreneurs and chefs who contribute efforts in this sector report harassment and extortion. And like everyone else in the state, they suffer from astronomical inflation, and an extraordinarily poor supply chain.
But make no mistake, huge changes to what we eat in Goa are underway again, just as in the 16th and 17th centuries. The results may be unpredictable, but I am certain they will be delicious.
Another example: British colonialists annexed Upper Assam specifically in order to replaced its fabled old-growth forests with vast tea plantations. Up to that point, the only Indians familiar with the beverage were a few tribals in what is now Arunachal Pradesh. But it took just 100 years for chai to become our national drink, today Assam alone produces 11% of the world's tea crop.
These and myriad other examples demonstrate that whatever its attendant complications, there can be no doubt globalization has always delivered a culinary bonanza. Besides ingredients, there's also been a profound dispersal of new techniques, that led to entirely new ways of thinking about food.
In Bengal, the Portuguese first horrified locals by splitting milk to make cottage cheese (there called 'chhana'). But what was first considered an abomination immediately became the central ingredient of a whole range of sweets, including sandesh and rossogulla. Today, these are the very epitome of Bengali culinary identity. The process works in both directions equally effectively: the brilliant Mexican Nobel Prize winner, Octavio Paz has recounted how a nun from India wound up inventing one of Mexico's most iconic dishes, Mole Poblano.
Even more than other places, Goan food has greatly benefited from our homeland's historic role as a melting pot of cultures. After all, we experienced one of the earliest crucibles of what is now touted as globalization.
So it is impossible to imagine our most cherished dishes without the influence of the outside world, even while remembering the great Goan artist and gourmand, Francis Newton Souza's constant refrain - "our versions are always better than the originals!"
Thus, our sorpotel is a much more soulful, fiery version of the Portuguese original. Our bebinca is a considerably more sophisticated confection than the South East Asian sweet it is based on. And no Brazilian has ever distilled anything nearly as fine as feni from the cashew, despite the plant being native to that country (the word 'caju' is itself an import from an Amazonian language).
Despite attendant pressures and anxieties, we must note that Goa still remains one of India's most profound cultural crossroads. We now host tens of thousands of permanently resident neo-Goans from across the world, as well as unending numbers of Indian migrants. Many of our villages are every bit as multinational as Bangalore, with even small schools often including dozens of nationalities in their student bodies.
This 21st century churn has just as much foodie excitement as centuries past. Goa might be a fraction of the size of its neighbours, our population laughably tiny when compared the cities sprawling within an hour or two's flying distance. But very few places feature such an extraordinary variety of food available in our markets and restaurants, globalized demand has delivered the world onto our plates.
It is notable that much of the best "international food" available in Goa is made from local ingredients, right here in-state. Italians are making mozzarella, Frenchmen bake baguettes and croissants. The famous British butcher of Arpora turns out hundreds of kilos of what food guru Karen Anand (herself a Goan) describes as the "best bangers in India".
Today, the village of Anjuna by itself produces yummy Mexican corn chips, silken Russian-style sour cream, and truly superb French Dijon mustard, among a huge range of other artisanal produce. You can expect these fine proucts to go nationwide in short order, you simply can't beat the quality anywhere in India.
Goa's burgeoning food revolution has nothing to do with government efforts. In fact, mamy entrepreneurs and chefs who contribute efforts in this sector report harassment and extortion. And like everyone else in the state, they suffer from astronomical inflation, and an extraordinarily poor supply chain.
But make no mistake, huge changes to what we eat in Goa are underway again, just as in the 16th and 17th centuries. The results may be unpredictable, but I am certain they will be delicious.
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