Panaji, Goa : Restaurant Review
There are evenings that feel like they’ve been lightly dusted with cinnamon and goodwill, and this particular Saturday in Panjim was very much one of them. It was Christmas season — that glorious annual window when calories don’t count, spirits are high (both metaphorically and in glasses), and even the most cynical among us are susceptible to twinkling lights and a well-timed carol.
So naturally, we found ourselves in Fontainhas, Panjim’s Latin Quarter, which at Christmas looks as though it has been curated by elves with excellent taste and a deep love for fairy lights. The pastel Portuguese houses were dressed up like debutantes — stars dangling from balconies, windows glowing warmly, and strings of lights looping their way across narrow lanes. Carolers wandered about in cheerful packs, tourists strolled slowly (as if afraid to disturb the magic), and every little restaurant window looked like a still from a European Christmas film — cosy, candlelit, and begging you to come in and sit down.
We ducked into Slurr – Casa Lusitana, a place that can best be described as charmingly skeletal — more shell than showpiece, and all the better for it.
We grabbed a window seat, the best kind of urban theatre ticket, and ordered ourselves a couple of rosemary G&Ts. Outside, Fontainhas carried on performing: laughter floated by, footsteps echoed, someone burst into song.
Inside, we sat back and let the ambience seep in slowly, like a good short story you don’t rush. The bar bites offered a modest selection of knick-knacks, but we wisely passed. The evening was young, and restraint — rare though it may be in December — felt briefly achievable.
After a leisurely wander through the lanes, soaking in the sights, sounds, and general Christmas cheer, we turned our attention to dinner and headed to Kokum Curry — a restaurant with a reputation for authentic Goan cuisine and, crucially, the confidence to let its food do most of the talking.
The restaurant greeted us dressed for Christmas, but in a way that felt thoughtful rather than theatrical. Brick-toned interiors gave the space a warm, rustic feel, softened by a Christmas tree, stars scattered about, and just enough glitter to signal celebration without tipping into tinsel chaos.
It felt cosy, welcoming, and reassuringly confident — the kind of place that doesn’t need to shout because it knows exactly what it’s doing.
We began with Vegetable Foddi — brinjal and bhindi fritters coated in rawa and fried until golden. These weren’t your greasy, regret-laden fritters, but crisp, delicately seasoned parcels where the vegetables retained their integrity and flavour. The semolina coating added texture without heaviness, making each bite crunchy, light, and deeply satisfying. This is comfort food at its most honest — the sort that reminds you why simple things, done well, are often unbeatable.
For the mains, we chose the combo meals, which felt both sensible and indulgent — a rare crossover. The Bharilli Vainggi arrived first: baby brinjals stuffed generously and cooked in a semi-dry coconut and peanut gravy. The gravy was rich without being overpowering, allowing the sweetness of the brinjals and the nuttiness of the coconut to shine through. Served alongside fried onions, and soft rice flour rotis, it was a plate that tasted like heritage — the kind of dish that feels passed down, not invented.
Next came the Chicken Shagoti, a classic Goan Xacuti preparation, thick with coconut, layered with spices, and unapologetically robust. Served with paav and a crisp onion salad, it was bold, aromatic, and deeply comforting. This is the sort of food that makes you slow down instinctively, because rushing it would feel almost disrespectful. If you’re Goan, it will almost certainly remind you of your grandmother’s kitchen — that unmistakable flavour of love, patience, and experience. If you’re not, it will make you wish you were. Chef’s kiss, without question.
Dessert was Myndoli Kelleacho Haalwo — sliced Moira bananas cooked gently in sugar syrup, infused with cardamom and saffron. Soft, fragrant, and quietly indulgent, it was nostalgia served on a plate. Sweet without excess, elegant without fuss, and the perfect end to a meal that never once tried to be clever — only authentic.
The food at Kokum Curry is as authentic as authentic gets. This is not watered-down, tourist-friendly Goan cuisine designed to offend no one. This is food with roots, confidence, and character. Its reputation is well earned and well deserved, and every dish feels like a reaffirmation of why it’s so well loved.
We ended the evening strolling through Panjim once more, letting the Christmas magic linger just a little longer. After all, ’tis the season to eat, drink, and be merry — though the first two do tend to lead enthusiastically to the third. On a night wrapped in fairy lights, good food, and better spirits, being merry didn’t feel like a choice — it felt like an inevitability.
Wishing one and all a very happy, hearty, and thoroughly well-fed Christmas season 🎄✨.
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