By: Rachana Patil Published in: *Scroll* Date: January 23, 2026 Source: https://scroll.in/article/1089834/goan-bhaji-pao-samosa-alsande-tonak-how-a-practising-jain-discovered-a-vegetarian-goa An excerpt from ‘Appetite: New Writing from Goa’, edited by Shivranjana Rathore and Tino De Sa.
I remember walking into the Bhagwan Mahavir Park in Panjim and chancing upon a restaurant there which served only vegetarian food. In Goa. I was delighted. This was surely a sign that God loved me. I also saw a wall hanging in the restaurant with the Namokar Mantra written on it. It was wooden and rather beautiful. The restaurant owner knew nothing about it and said that the previous owner had left it. The restaurants in that park are on an annual lease of some sort, so they often change names and management but amazingly, they continue to be vegetarian restaurants, and for me this was a sign that Goa accepted me. Sounds so OTT (over the top) but after having been offered only overcooked beans and cabbage soup as vegetarian food, I was in need of some recognition that vegetarian food is in itself a world of possibilities. Nowadays when you google “vegetarian goa”, you get a lot of options for eating out. There are fancy vegan restaurants and wholesome Udupi offerings. This was not the case when I first began to consider the state my home. I was born in a Jain family in Manipur, and even though I went to a boarding school, lived abroad and married outside my vegetarian community, I chose to stay vegetarian. It was not an imposition for me; it was something I wholeheartedly and intentionally felt comfortable with. My friends in Manipur were very accepting of this. For many others, vegetarianism felt alien, and I was often told that I ate ghasphoos (grass). Many friends I made would remark that they were surprised I was a vegetarian. I did not care that it was not cool, and possibly this was my first brush with wanting to hold my own belief even when there was no external validation. Vegetarianism was something I was introduced to in thought, word and deed, right from my entry into this world. As a child I was taught not to step on an ant even by mistake, to be careful where I placed my foot. I was taught to cover milk once heated so that no insects would fall into something hot. I was taught not to swat a fly or kill a mosquito. Every soul is as big as our own, however the living being may be embodied, was the everyday message. Of course, I would still use mosquito repellents, but Odomos was better than Goodknight. There was always a discussion on what was a less harmful practice when it came to a tussle between my comfort and the comfort of other lives, a real engagement with gradation in the practice of non-violence. As you ascend the levels of existence as a practising Jain, you are supposed to not really enjoy food. You eat merely to live. However, my enjoyment of food is something that I was not successfully trained out of by my family. On the contrary, the range of amazing dishes that were prepared at home was astounding. Earlier on, many Jain families would prefer not to eat out at restaurants as one could not determine what went on in those kitchens even when one ordered from the vegetarian section of the menu. Plus, many Jains avoid ginger, garlic, onion, mushrooms, yeast, jackfruit, potato, cabbage, aubergine and cauliflower. In order to make up for this lack of diversity, many mothers would take on the serious task of making a vegetarian version of almost everything, so that their children were able to enjoy being vegetarian and did not feel a loss of any sort. I experienced and enjoyed this abundance of deliciousness growing up. We were not so strict about root vegetables, but I now know that many of these are acidic as well, so I avoid some of these at some points in the year. In Goa, however, I struggled to find food I could eat in my early days. Many had not interacted with any vegetarians before. I grew accustomed to carrying a small box of packed food with me to parties where vegetarianism was an unknown practice. Now I understand that there are vegetarian dishes that are a Goan specialty, but back then I was not aware, and there was no world of Internet where I could have chanced upon such knowledge merely by using a search engine. As I started exploring the cultural practices of Goa, I learnt a lot about the Catholic faith and its Goan avatar. The veneration of Our Lady made a real impact on me. Our Lady of Vailankanni is such an important part of the experience of devotion in Goa. So is Our Lady of Milagres. While many of the revered Virgins are offered marigolds and candles, Our Lady of Milagres is offered coconut oil on her feast day, alongside candles and flowers. When different households hold the Saibinn worship turn by turn in Goa, they offer chickpeas with small grated pieces of coconut and pattice and cake with a drink. This is not an offering to the Saibinn but rather what the community partakes together after the worship. Both Hindu and Catholic practices were new for me. They were both so enriching and interesting. Here again the question of appetite surfaced in a new way. Different gods are offered different things based on their preferences. In Digambar Jain temples, even flowers are not offered, as there are living beings in flowers and flowers themselves are living beings, and so must not be destroyed for aesthetic purposes or as offerings. Certain Jain sects have different practices in this regard, but I am only writing about my own experience with no intention to provide an overview of what these practices are like for all Jains all over the world. I also became interested in the way Narkasur is destroyed each year and how Ganesha is venerated. Both of these practices have a Goan identity for me. Ganesha loves modaks and they have to be prepared in a particular way. There is so much love in this devotional preparation which everyone gets to relish as prasad later. It is so different from the contemplation I was used to at Jain temples. There is no prasad given at Jain temples. Krishna loves tulsi and his adornments are so well thought through. The Tulsi Vrindavan outside many Goan homes is a commitment to the harmonious family life as part of Krishna’s family; this is such a beautiful intention, so much in line with the Catholic ethos of being part of the Holy Family. Krishna’s offerings always include tulsi leaves. This holiness can percolate in our lives through ingesting a food that is also a symbol. At home we have experimented with and explored various fusion cuisines. We make a coconut curry with radish and another one with ridge gourd. We also use the recheado spice blend for paneer and soya (again something many Jains do not eat) and the cafreal with potatoes. Then there is the much-loved mushroom xacuti that we make to eat with poie. We also have the tendlim pickle made in the traditional Goan way and it is so different from whatever I know to be a pickle. There is the Goan pulao without chicken Maggi Masala and Goan style chana masala. Sometimes we make caldin curry and also mango or pineapple curries. These fruity curries have a sweet–sour flavour as they are cooked in a coconut gravy. Coconut makes everything better. All of this is quite delicious. What has been most exciting however, is the discovery of Goan bhaji-pão. There are so many types of bhaji that are available in all day eateries and the way in which they are served is so distinct and uniquely Goan. Alsande, chana, patal, salad, kurma, mushroom xacuti, tomato (tamat is the way this is pronounced, and it is so beautifully Goan) bhaji – each bhaji is deliciously different from what is done with these ingredients in other parts of India. Alsande tonak is made by cooking red cowpeas in a roasted coconut gravy. Chana is the chickpeas in a brown curry with tomato and coconut. The white pea known for its appearance in the famed ragda pattice is also made in a yellow coconut-based gravy. The patal is a potato bhaji which has a silky-smooth gravy and turmeric yellow colour, tempered with mustard seeds, curry leaves. It is also served in a sukhi (dry) version. We can eat these Goan bhajis with poie, unde or pav, with puris or with chapatis. The Goan samosa is also a distinct bit of scrumptiousness, which I found quite different from the singharas I grew up with in Manipur and Bengal. Instead of getting all nostalgic and territorial about which is the authentic one, I remind myself that sambusek, or a version of that name, is the original dish that was popular in Iran a few centuries ago. There are a number of varieties of sambusek we can still eat in west and central Asia. And then there are croquettes made with cheese and mushrooms which are not as crunchy but still flaky and delicious. And the sweet bun, which albeit Mangalorean in origin, is something to savour in Goa, especially on rainy days, with tea. These Goan cafes are places that get packed on Sundays as people throng to them after the church service. The Goan veg pattice is another thing to love and can be devoured in no time. During fasting days for the Hindu communities in Goa, they also have elaborate Goan Saraswat vegetarian thalis, with an array of interesting recipes cooked to perfection. The kokum sherbet and the coconut kokum drink are so refreshing and delicious. The fried breadfruit and potatoes as well as fried baingan are akin to the katsu preparation in Japanese canteens. When I got together with a Goan, I was told that I was marrying a pão-wala. Completely unaware of this cultural tag, I had to learn about it. Many Jains do not eat bread because of the yeast in it. But the sound of the poder and his wares each morning are so much a part of my wonderful sensory experience of living in Goa. Poie or bhakri, unde or pão and some bagel-shaped bread. It is a whole different world. In food we find so many different practices, each making assumptions about what it means to be human. Who eats what is their personal preference and this is getting even more accentuated today with so many choices being made by people about their diet and what they are willing to eat. Many jokes are made about vegans and gluten free folk, but these choices define something about identities and the more we are accepting of these, the more we accept different human beings. Our young son was once taken into a room full of children by a relative of ours and was told that he should eat chicken. It was important that this was done when his parents were not around. There is so much going on politically about vegetarianism being oppressive but to my mind, as a vegetarian, my first commitment is to not insist on anything from anyone else. There are others who believe that if I truly believe in vegetarianism, I should insist that everyone should be the same as me. I think back to the notion of anekantvad, the idea that there are as many truths as there are perspectives. This incident left us a bit stunned, but we are the younger ones in our generation in the family and therefore we are often required to forgive and forget without having the opportunity to air our views. Most of the times we manage it. Sometimes it takes a lot of work. We have developed a method of doing our frothing and fuming, hemming and hawing to each other and then working out how we wish to respond to the extended family. It makes no sense to simply vent and share our reaction where there will be no appetite for change. Appetite can be divine, and it can be inhuman. It can sometimes be an insatiable urge to consume. For example, the appetite for Goa itself, for its lands and rivers and the views it offers. Our appetites have to change as we age, lighter food is more amenable to contemplative practices. Yet all consumption and its reverse can be used for the same ends. In tantric practices, the extreme opposite of all consumption that Jains ascribe to leads to ascension. There are many labyrinths of consumption; consuming is formative and performative, restorative too. There are so many types of hunger too, including what is called spiritual hunger. Eat what you will. But let’s contain our appetite for Goa so that others may make stone soups of its red earth till eternity. *Excerpted with permission from ‘*A Vegetarian Goan Wannabe Writes to Digest’ *by Rachana Patni in *Appetite: New Writing from Goa, *edited by Shivranjana Rathore and Tino De Sa, Penguin India.*
