Idli-sambar on the beach may not have quite the #vacay vibes that tourists in Goa are going for, but according to Calangute MLA Michael Lobo, it is the beach shacks’ insistence on serving the south Indian breakfast item that is driving foreign tourists away from the sunshine state’s famed shores. Politicians do as politicians must, and it is easy to dismiss Lobo’s heart-cry as being rooted in the kind of nativist impulse that, in the 1960s, fueled the Shiv Sena’s agitation against South Indians in Mumbai, when the vada pao was first held up as the Marathi manoos’s response to the “lungi-clad outsider’s” idli-dosa. But look carefully, and the picture becomes muddier than the waters in which Goa’s beloved shevto (striped grey mullet) thrives.
The steady rise in the number of domestic tourists has diversified Goa’s restaurant cuisine — including the food served in the seasonal shacks — in a way that was, perhaps, not imaginable a couple of decades ago. If paplet (pomfret) and paneer nestle side-by-side on one menu, others reveal further accommodations: South Indian thalis, vegetarian/vegan/Jain options, spring rolls and Kake-da-Dhaba-style parathas alongside “continental” fare like sizzlers (veg/paneer/fish/chicken), pizzas and pastas. Underlying these accommodations, however, is a tension peculiar to tourist hotspots in India where the simple math of commerce demands that local fare and delicacies make room for — or even give way to — the “mainstream” food preferred by risk-averse visitors (which, let’s be honest, is the majority of Indian tourists).
It is not uncommon, even today, to see large groups commandeering vast stretches of Goa’s most popular beaches, but eating their own home-cooked food (carefully packed in tiffins by the mummies, aunties and bhabhis, of course), rather than ordering from the shacks that serve — goodness! – both veg and non-veg food. For businesses reliant on a steady income stream during tourist season, it is a straightforward calculation: Should they uphold local traditions and pride and risk putting off the hordes of picky eaters who may, upon scanning the menu, decide to go someplace where the food is more familiar and less threatening to their ideas of identity and purity?
The fact that even the beach shacks that don’t serve “idli-sambar” don’t necessarily serve Goan food complicates the picture further, especially as Lobo has argued that “shacks are given to showcase local cuisine and culture”. The riches of the Arabian Sea that have for centuries fed the coastal communities in this part of the country do find pride of place on most menus — where, indeed, they are also an attraction for the many Indian tourists who do hanker for seafood. But beyond the rava-fried fish — easy to eat with bottle after bottle of chilled beer — how many dishes served in these places actually reflect the unique and diverse culinary traditions of the state? Count out a handful of preparations like vindalho, sorpotel and xacuti, and how much of Goa is actually left on the tourist’s plate is highly debatable. After all, one can eat very good butter garlic prawns even in Mumbai, but what about bangdyachi uddamethi and sannas, choris pao and ros omelette, and breads like katro pao and kankon?
The real problem is the average visitor’s interest in anything beyond Goa’s beaches. Few are genuinely curious about this state of sparkling rivers and lakes, forests and groves, and a colourful, eventful history that is reflected in the way its many communities live today. This is the challenge for Lobo and his colleagues — how do you get tourists to look beyond the picture postcard of sand, sea and palm tree? Forcing shacks to bring these aspects of Goa to tourists who remain indifferent to them would only be a losing battle.
pooja.pillai@expressindia.com
