Posted: October 9, 2010 in Uncategorized
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Who remembers this? Mae had a tree right at the foot of the property. If you went over to the steps and stood on the highest part of the concrete, you could reach these. Still, who wanted to grab the pokey exterior. We waited until someone else had the nerve to open it, what a surprise.

I saw someone just tear into it once, not even with a knife, just fingers.  I suspect the jackfruit must have been ripe.   The thick and brownish-yellow rind has small protrusions, not sharp but not comfortable either. Inside it are these succulent yellow bulbs embedded in a fibrous pocket. Inside the bulbs are seeds. Now, we’ve probably eaten just about every part of the jackfruit. Some relative made a curry out of the fibrous pockets and the inside of the rind. We definitely devoured the sweet fruit after the seeds had been removed. Mae would dry and then roast the seeds in an open fire. They had a semblance to brazil nuts maybe? Anyone remember? Very nice. I never liked the goey sap that covered my hands when I tried to separate the fruit from the fiber. Some people would oil their hands to get it out. Yum.

JACKFRUITWish that I could say that these pictures were exactly from Mae’s garden but anyone who remembers, will think it is, thanks to thefruitbook.com who has generously supplied me photos. If anyone remembers anything else about Mae’s house or the fruit trees, feel free to comment.


Tendli Pickle or Tindora

Posted: September 30, 2010 in Uncategorized
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While talking to my cousin in Brampton recently, she reminded me of this wonderful pickle made from tendlis or gherkins, how they are known in the West.  Frankly, I’ve never seen this vegetable in mainstream grocery markets but I suspect that Indian grocery stores worldwide carry them.  I remember the vegetable itself is quite bland but when cooked up with coconut and spices, made for a tasty vegetable.

Mae and Santan both made this delectable pickle from tendlis and I remember going into this darkened pantry off a little room entered from the kitchen.  Straight ahead of the door was this dark cool room, a cold storage of sorts where Mae stored pickles in earthenware jars and large crocks.  She also kept different kinds of jaggery here.  How would I know that right?  Well, I did  get caught coming out of there once with dark stains around my mouth.  Mae scolded me but i doubt I got a whipping.   Mae was always too happy to see her grandchildren to be angry for any length of time.  Again, these pictures of tendlis or the recipe does not belong to me but some special goans on the web who are happy to share.

Tendlis are not to be mistaken for pickling cucumbers because they somewhat resemble each other.  NOT!  In this blog, I intend only to post the pickle recipe but please know that you can prepare many vegetable dishes from tendlis.  So, here is Kristina’s tendli pickle recipe.  Enjoy

Ingredients :

Tendlis (small gherkins) 100
Oil 2 cups
Green chillies 10
Garlic 3 pods
Ginger 3″piece
Vinegar 1 cups
Chilly powder 2 tbsp
Turmeric 1 tbsp
Sugar 2 tbsp

Preparation :

Cut the tendlis into quarters, add salt and hang overnight in a muslin cloth to let the water drain.

Mince the green chillies, garlic and ginger. Heat the oil over fierce heat, add the chillies, garlic and ginger. Fry well being careful not to burn it.

When well fried, add the vinegar, chilly powder, turmeric, tendlis and sugar. Bring to boil stirring continuously, then remove from fire.

Pour into sterilized jars making sure the pickle is covered with oil.

Bodiem House – Side View

Posted: September 19, 2010 in Uncategorized
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If you were looking at Mae’s house from the side, the same side where the other Lobo’s house is located, this is what it would look like in it’s dilapidated condition. When we visited there as youngsters, it was in fine condition. It is sad to see it in this way but also a good memory. This photo is provided by Roar Kneppen.

My father always wanted to get there after retirement and fix up the house and live in it.  Unfortunately, he had to consider others and therefore did not see it through. What would our lives have been like, had he followed his dream?

Mae never had the money to deal with renos and after she died, Santan didn’t manage either.  I hope that by now, someone who cares has taken it into their hands to do something with this property.

Godshe from Goa

Posted: September 18, 2010 in Uncategorized
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Keep stirring the mixture

These days, I find myself thinking of Mae and all the special sweets she would make for us kids who had just arrived from the big city of Bombay.  Godshe was one of these sweets – yum.  For so long, I’ve been wanting to find a recipe so I could make it for my own little grandchildren and here it is now, thanks to GoanFoodRecipes.com.

I cannot find jaggery easily where I live now therefore, I resort to a combination of brown sugar and molasses.

1 cup rice

1/4 cup moong dal

thick and thin milk of one coconut (I use 1 can of milk – separate it into two and thin one portion down)

1/2 cup brown sugar 1/4 cup molasses

pinch of salt

Soak the rice and dal overnight and then cook it in the thin coconut milk.  Cook and stir occasionally until it is soft – use low flame.

Once rice and dal are a soft consistency, add the sugar and molasses, keep stirring until the mixture thickens and then add the thick coconut milk.  Stir, stir and add a pinch of salt taking care not to let it stick to bottom of pot.  When the mixture thickens enough to look like it could set, pour it into a pie plate and let set so you can cut it into soft wedges.  Some people like it warm like a pudding.


Posted: September 18, 2010 in Uncategorized
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Mae made this Bibique for us even when it wasn’t Christmas time.  All Coans made this this layered cake at Christmas but since us Lobos never went to Bodiem during Christmas, Mae would make it for us in May.  Bless that sweet woman who did everything in her power to give her grandchildren a good time.  I wish that I had got my recipe right from Mae but alas, she was gone before I got interested in culinary matters.  Priyanka Garpure has kindly supplied me with this one:

200 gms all purpose flour

10 egg yolks

500 gms sugar

Thick coconut milk from one large coconut

2 gms powdered nutmeg

200 gms ghee (clarified butter)

1. Extract coconut milk from the coconut by grating it and grinding it with water. Mix the flour, sugar and egg yolks with coconut milk and stir thoroughly till sugar has dissolved. In case you want layers of slightly different colors caramelize a little sugar and add to one half of the batter and use them alternately.

2. Now add the nutmeg powder and keep aside.

3. In an aluminum vessel, heat some clarified butter in a pan and pour in one cup of batter.

4. Bake this layer on low heat till it turns light brown in color.

5. Then add another spoonful of clarified butter and another cup of batter.

6. Once the bottom layer is done the heat has to be supplied from the top.

7. Continue to bake till all the batter is used up.

8. Once done, turn the tin upside down, remove the bebinca and cool before serving

Note:  I’ve tried this method by pouring batter into a springform pan and placing under the broiler (rack should be in the middle of the oven).  It’s effective!

The Bimbli Tree

Posted: September 7, 2010 in Uncategorized
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Ahhh!  Remember the bimbli tree?  I’ll bet there was one right outside your Goa house.   This one is much like the one just outside the hall window in Mae’s house located in Boddiem, a little village in Bardez.

As soon as we arrived here for our summer vacation in May, we dashed outside to the Bimbli tree and helped ourselves to its tart and juicy fruit.

‘at least put some salt on it’ Santan would yell and hand us spoons of salt which we held in the palm of one hand, leaving the other one free to pluck bimblis and dip them into the salt before shoving them into our mouths.

‘leave some for mae to make pickle with’ Santan would yell from the window laughing at our puckered mouths and shaking heads.  So, we quit eating all the fruit and left some for Mae to make pickle with because each day, the farm hands who left at break of dawn without breakfast, looked forward to their kanjee with pickles.  Out of the two or three pickle selections that Mae let them eat with their kanjee (also spelt like Congee), one of the selections was the bimbli pickle.  In case any of you have forgotten or don’t know, kanjee is a thick rice porridge made by boiling less rice with a lot of water and a little salt.  The result is this thick blandish soupy mix and generally accompanied by a piece of fried or pickled fish.  Pickles are nice with it too, the fiery taste of lime or raw mango, nicely complimenting the bland taste of kanjee.

Travel from Mapusa

Posted: August 27, 2010 in Uncategorized
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Mapusa Photo

These vehicles rock but make sure that your driver’s eyes are clear and that he repeats the directions to where you want him to take you.  Beware of the driver who has blood shot eyes and especially beware of the one who wears shades.

On my last trip, I was too tired to follow my own instructions, I got into the first rickshaw that offered to take me to Granny’s village into the interior.  My mouth had hardly closed from the tired yawn when the vehicle yanked me forward and my teeth were clamped onto the driver’s shoulder.  No, I’m not a vampire, I assured him.  He laughed and carried on driving like a madman sprung loose from an insane asylum.  I was too tired to feel any fear.  This is what it must be like to truly let go, I told myself.  Let go and let God.  It was a nice feeling.  Freeing.  I even slept, if you can believe that because the vehicle rocked from side to side, hit every pothole on the roads and bidi smoke from the driver’s incessant habit, filled my nostrils.

I didn’t even wake when he deposited me at the base of the village from where I’d have to walk.  He said loudly

‘you have to move from her miss.  I cannot drive up those rocks’

Startled out of my dreams of sorpotel and bibique, I blinked and surveyed my surroundings.  Nothing looked familiar to me.  After all, the last time that I had visited Granny’s village had to be at least ten years before that or more.   I gave the driver his fare, dragged my bag out of the vehicle and watched as he drove off in a cloud of dust.