The Balcão

The Ikshaa journal — notes on Goa, its food and its houses

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Ikshaa journal

Writing from a village in South Goa

A balcão is the covered porch of an old Goan house, with seats built into the wall and a view of the road. It is where the afternoon is spent, and where most of what anyone knows about a village gets passed along. This is that, written down.

Lifestyle

Susegad is not laziness

Visitors hear the word within a day of arriving, and almost everyone mistranslates it.

Susegad comes from the Portuguese sossegado — quiet, settled, at rest. Four hundred and fifty years of Portuguese rule left Goa a language, a cuisine, a body of law and this one word, which has outlasted most of the rest.

It is usually explained to tourists as laziness, generally by people who have been here three days. That is not what it means. Susegad is the refusal to be hurried by things that do not warrant hurry. It is a judgement about what is worth rushing for, and the answer is: very little.

The village does not slow down for guests. That is rather the point of coming.

You will notice it first in the afternoons. Between roughly one and four, Loutolim closes. Not by ordinance — by consensus. The heat makes an argument that everybody accepted a long time ago, and the shops reopen when it has passed.

It takes most people two days to stop resenting this and start arranging their day around it. The third morning is usually when a guest says they have slept properly for the first time in months.

The courtyard, mid-afternoon. Nothing is happening, deliberately.

Cuisine

What Goa actually eats

Very little of it is the beach-shack menu, and almost none of it is what gets served as "Goan" elsewhere in India.

Goan food is a collision. Coconut, kokum and rice from the Konkan coast; chilli, vinegar and pork from the Portuguese, who also brought the cashew and the potato from Brazil. The result is a cuisine with a sourness to it that most Indian regional cooking does not have.

The dishes worth asking for

Xacuti (say it sha-KOO-tee) is chicken or lamb in a sauce of roasted coconut and something like a dozen spices, ground down until it is almost black. It is the most laborious thing in the repertoire and the one to order if you eat only one Goan dish.

Cafreal is the green one — coriander, green chilli, ginger and vinegar, usually on chicken. The name and the method came with Mozambican and Angolan cooks who arrived through Portuguese ports, which is a longer journey than most recipes make.

Sorpotel is pork, offal, vinegar and heat, and it improves for three or four days in the pot. It is Christmas food in Catholic households and it is not a dish anybody makes in small quantities.

Ambot tik means sour and hot, which is the whole recipe. Usually shark or catfish, no coconut, and a good deal sharper than it looks.

And poi, the bread. A pillowy, slightly sour roll that the poder — the baker — still delivers by bicycle, twice a day, with a squeeze horn. It is the sound most guests remember afterwards.

Bebinca is the one to leave room for: a layered coconut-and-egg-yolk pudding, each layer baked separately before the next goes on. Seven layers is standard and sixteen is showing off. It takes hours and tastes like it took hours.

To drink, there is feni — distilled from cashew apples in the spring, or from coconut sap the rest of the year. Cashew feni holds a Geographical Indication, the same protection Champagne has, and it is a genuinely local spirit rather than a souvenir. It is also strong enough that most visitors get it wrong exactly once.

A cook can be arranged at the house, and it is worth doing for at least one evening. Ask about xacuti specifically — it is not something anyone makes for one meal.

Dinner at the house. The barbeque in the gazebo does the rest of the work.

Where to go

The great houses of Loutolim and Chandor

Two villages, twenty minutes apart, holding the best surviving domestic architecture in Goa — and most of it is still somebody's home.

The Portuguese-era mansions of South Goa were built by families who made money in the spice and colonial trades, and they were built to a pattern: a blank, high wall to the road, a balcão at the front, and everything of interest turned inward around a courtyard. From outside they give away very little. That is intentional.

Loutolim, where this house is, has several. Casa Araujo Alvares is the one set up for visitors, with rooms kept as they were and a sound-and-light commentary that is more charming than it sounds.

Chandor, a short drive inland, has the one everybody comes for. Braganza House runs the length of an entire side of the village square, and is extraordinary for a reason that is easy to miss: it is divided down the middle between two branches of the same family, who inherited it in the eighteenth century and have maintained their halves separately ever since. You can tour both. They do not match.

These are houses, not museums. Somebody lives behind most of the doors you are not shown.

Go in the morning. The light in those long ballroom windows is the entire point, and by three the shutters are usually closed against the heat.

The door at Ikshaa. The pattern is the same across the village.

Season

Coming in the rains

June to September is the season most people avoid and the one we would choose.

The monsoon arrives in Goa around the first week of June and does not so much rain as commit to it. For three months the state turns a green that photographs badly and looks extraordinary in person, the paddy fields fill, and the waterfalls that are a trickle in March become the reason people drive into the ghats.

Most of the coast shuts. The shacks come down — they are temporary structures, rebuilt every October — the water is too rough to swim, and the crowds go home.

What is left is the Goa that lives here. Villages you can walk through without meeting a tour group. Restaurants where the table is yours for the evening. Rates that bear no relation to December.

It does not rain all day. It rains hard, often in the afternoon, and then it stops and everything drips and steams and smells of wet earth. Plan around it rather than against it and the day works perfectly well.

A house with a courtyard is a good place to watch it from. That is more or less what the courtyard is for.

Rain over the villa. Three months of this, and then it stops.

Come and see

All of this is within an afternoon

The houses, the food and the rains are twenty minutes from the door in one direction or another. If you would like a week of it, tell me your dates.

Check dates

Letters from Ikshaa

One letter a week from the house, and a note when the season turns. No offers, no campaigns — and you can stop it in one click.

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