Street food carts are quiet lifesavers, offering comfort, warmth, and a taste of home to anyone seeking a quick, heartfelt meal in the midst of a busy day.
Street food vendors in Goa are no strangers to long nights and late shifts, often serving as the last port of call for people who are on their way home at the end of a long day
We often encounter that sensation of nothing short of a pang of hunger that feels like death is imminent if we do not eat immediately (or that is how it plays out in our heads). More often than not, the visitation of said pang is often on long drives home from work. The road ahead seems long, desolate and seemingly without hope, as you start falling prey to the jaws of the pangs. And just as all hope is lost, a little light emerges from the middle of nowhere, with choirs of angels welcoming you, no less. The light at the side of the road is not the beckoning end, but rather, a ‘petromax’ hanging from the cart of your friendly-neighbourhood- feeder man. It is these saviours and their endeavours to serve the hungry masses that are both their patrons and near daily congregation that we salute today in text.
These everyday heroes are commonplace, but each one of them carries a tale unique to the food that they serve. While people come and go, making quick pit-stops for a belly refill and the customary local chit-chat in the process, these vendors with their typically rural demeanour absorb, like the marinade of their trade, the tales that are carried with patrons passing through.
Some such gems are those which are affably recounted by Dominic, who is now a ‘fixture’ at the Mapusa bus stop/market place. Over his version of Shawarma, which involves a generous dollop of garlic mayonnaise, tomatoes roasted on an open fire (yes, I know what I just did with a Christmas Carol line), pickled beetroot and onion and some lightly peppered chicken grilled on a rotisserie, Dominic regales eaters with tales that are just as personal as his fare.
These include stories from his time spent in the Middle-East and how the rigours of life in Goa are arduous but worth it, just to be closer to home. However, with a little probing, Dominic will share his repository of knowledge that ranges from every lover’s spat in the bustling town to little anecdotes of the town’s bustling history.
Similarly, further south from there, on an older road that once served as the National Highway, just beyond Four Pillars that historically marks the official entrance to the city of Panjim, lies the definition of a ‘working marriage’. Avelino Costa alongside his wife, who he fondly merely refers to in true country music fashion only as his ‘missus’, dish out some of the best cutlet pão, stew and Cafreal a belly has ever had the privilege of being lined by. But it is not the food alone that stands out. As the Costas feed the masses, they invariably run out of bread. This is a daily occurrence. Then Avelino, a village hero, will run out to the road and flag a stranger down (and every stranger in those parts knows him) and will ask them to make a run to the local poder for him to replenish his stock of pão. While one waits for the loaves to arrive, Avelino will resume his constant musings and mutterings about politics, current affairs and the nuisance of local strays to while time away. Simultaneously, behind him, usually in the company of his fine meals, many a budding romance will grow in the stands designated to the Santa Cruz football ground. It is through the tales of these everyday heroes that much of local lore is passed on. These keepers of recipes, time and history are a luxury that, with due respect to every restaurateur out there, a restaurant cannot truly afford their diners.
This piece was originally published on September 21, 2014