Ruffles in Candolim
It has emerged as the lighthouse.
The menu? A Brit’s dream – roast beef, Yorkshire pud, fish and chips with mushy peas, and a parade of pies.
For over two decades, flitting in and out since the mid-80s, I’ve watched Goa’s grub game evolve. Traditional joints like Café Bhosale and Tato’s still pull the crowds, while South Indian spots are popping up like, well, mushrooms after the monsoon. Once upon a time, finding a Punjabi or Chinese eatery was like spotting a unicorn. Now? They’re as common as sand on a Goan beach!
Panjim and Assagao are now the culinary melting pots, boasting cuisines from every corner of the globe. And if you fancy a cuppa or a croissant, fear not – coffee shops and bakeries are sprouting faster than you can say “butter chicken”.
Amidst this feast of flavours, I’ve been on a quest, a culinary crusade, for good old English grub. But alas, it’s been like searching for a raincoat in the Sahara; seemingly, Goans aren’t exactly pining for pies and puddings.
Ruffles in Candolim emerged as the lighthouse. No aircon, mind you, so you might melt faster than your ice cream. But what it lacks in climate control, it makes up with its sprawling courtyard and plush seating. The menu? A Brit’s dream – roast beef, Yorkshire pud, fish and chips with mushy peas, and a parade of pies. Sure, the desserts section is a bit thin, but then England’s not exactly the Willy Wonka of the culinary world, is it?
The nosh’s nice – a bit on the bland side, but that’s as British as it gets. They serve pie slices from a communal pie, though. Wish they’d nick the individual pie idea from London – keeps the crust crispier than a fresh tenner.
All in all, it’s rather splendid. Makes one pine for Blighty, soggy pies and all!
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