Finding poee, in Mumbai
Documenting my search for the humble Goan bread in the city of dreams
My childhood is inextricably linked to the Goan poee.
The honk of the poder (village baker) would be our alarms on school days, as we scrambled out of bed to catch the only bus that would take us to school on time. We woke up to poee — a leavened whole-wheat bread (fermented with toddy in the olden days) with a hollow cavity in the centre, capable of soaking up gravies, and providing support to meaty sandwiches. The hot baked bread lay on our table, surrounded by butter, jam, foreign cheeses that my dad would send from Kuwait, roast tongue or beef on a good week, tizann (finger millet porridge) for good bones, kalchhi kodi (leftover curry), and cups of chai. The same poee would sometimes make its way to our tiffins, stuffed with corned beef or meat, to give us the energy we needed to battle the soporific effects of education by rote.
If the family slept through the poder’s afternoon visit, my brothers and I would take it in turns to go visit his house to bring back bread for tea, and dinner. Occasionally, we would stop by the stream on the way to send paper boats on differently-fated voyages, or peer from gates at the dogs in the big house, or just stand outside the abandoned houses wondering what stories (and ghosts) they held.
As an adult, my poee fixation extended beyond the home. Most of the Goan street food I enjoyed featured pao or poee: ros omelette (eggs with a coconut chicken curry), choris pao (Goa sausages stuffed in bread), and cutlet pao (beef cutlet stuffed in bread).
They say the steady diet of Goans is fish-curry-rice. I would like to add poee to that list.
My consumption of the bread reduced substantially when I moved to Mumbai. The poee I ate was usually a day/s old. It was part of the stash of Goan food I would load into my bags at the end of my visit home. Wrapped in paper or soft cloth like a treasured possession, they survived the bus or train (and later airplane) journey well, seemingly aware of their role in helping ease pangs of homesickness. I froze them on arrival, and steamed them before eating so the heat could drive away the staleness. They made up in nostalgia what they lacked in freshness.
In the 13 years, I’ve lived in Mumbai, I’ve scoured the city for a taste of poee. Goan restaurants and takeaway spots offered familiar tastes, but no bread. It appeared that poee wouldn’t work in the city, falling prey to low demand, lack of mud ovens and lack of toddy.
While I like the idea that a poee could only be found, for sale, in Goa, it made me wonder why a city with such a vibrant Goan community didn’t have one poee evangelist.
Trials by fire
I tasted my first ‘Bombay poee’ at O Pedro. The award-winning restaurant is deservedly credited with introduced Mumbai to a different take on Goan food. I am not fond of their experiments, but the purist in me was silenced by the promise of poee. Their version tasted like sourdough, with a dusting of wheat husk. It looked and felt like poee, but it was missing something.
A year back, I returned to O Pedro for my first poee-making workshop under chef Hussain Shahzad. There, we spent an afternoon kneading dough till pliable, letting it rest, learning how to form shapes, dusting them with bran, sliding them into the stone oven, and making roast tongue sandwiches with the piping hot bread. It’s easy to convince your mind you’re eating poee when it looks familiar and the sandwich has salted tongue, which tasted similar to what my mother would pack in our tiffins.
Later, at (the now-shut) Porto & Poie by Gracian de Souza, I tasted poee again. That version bore the effects of its journey from Goa and tried valiantly to offer able support to De Souza’s excellent Goan food (also with a twist).
Last year, I found poee in an unlikely place: a synagogue. On a visit to the kitchen that serves the Jewish faithful their Shabbath meal on Friday and Saturday, I spent two afternoons with chef Moshe Shek and head cook Clera Lobo, watching them cooking, braiding challah, and taking notes. In my honour, Shek — whose plan is to retire to Goa and bake bread there — decided to experiment with poee. He sourced a recipe online and we shaped it together, dusting it with bran to give it that textured look.
The poee we ate was just how I like it: hot enough that when you break into it, steam escapes in tendrils, and with a sizeable pocket. I use it to dip into hummus (people call poee Indian pita bread, so I am not going against the grain here), kubbah (minced chicken balls covered with semolina and cooked in a curry), and hamim (a whole stuffed chicken).
My search continued.
Lockdown experiments
One of the positives of the pandemic-driven city on lockdown was discovering Goan home chefs eager to share their recipes and food with the world. It is here my poee search found fruition.
I learned of Abishai Fernandes’ three-year-old venture, The Comunidade Kitchen, which sells Goan Portuguese food, masalas and breads like unde and poee. “Our poee is for those Goans who are in the habit of eating Goan food with it,” he says. “We make them with wheat flour and nachni (ragi).”
IHM graduate Calum Rodrigues of Rodrigues Kitchen sourced his poee recipe online, tweaking till it was good enough to sell. Effy Fred of Wayne Bakers & More in Powai learned how to make poee in Goa, and on request from customers, added it to her menu. In Bandra, James Miranda’s experiments with flatbreads led to a trial with poee. His Jazzy Jim’s Cookhouse menu now features Poi Fillers: chicken sausage chilli fry, choris chilli fry, smoked bacon egg bhurjee and sweet and sour pork.
Rosita Fernandes of Rostosa Kitchen wanted to stay true to the poee she had eaten in Goa. “My poees are made with wheat flour, and wheat bran. I add a small amount of maida for elasticity,” she says. It was Tanushka D’Silva’s memories of eating poee in Goa that compelled her to try baking it. “We would wake up to the sound of the poder at 6am and eat fresh poee and kakonn. I realised these breads are not available in Mumbai and thought of reviving those traditions,” she says. D’Silva started House of Poder in November, selling poee, kakonn (hard, bangle-shaped Goan bread), and other bread.
The pandemic forced Hadrian Hilary Baptista to convert his plans of opening a restaurant in Goa into a home delivery called Churrasqueria Fumado selling smoked meat, and cutlet pao, and choris pao (using poee). Baptista, who studied hotel management in London, uses wheat flour and refined flour for his poee and bakes it in a pizza oven. Baptista’s poee reminded me of pita, with a thin top, and a thicker base.
Predictably, my favourite ‘Bombay poee’ was at home. My friend and roommate, Yoshita, decided to attempt making poee, having already aced sannas. She used an online recipe and her own intuition to create pillowy soft pocketed poee, which we ate with beef cutlets and croquettes.
Poee in Mumbai does lack the charm of the Goan versions: there’s no poder with a horn, carrying steaming hot bread in a yellow and blue plastic covered basket, honking his arrival. Instead, the poee-pita hybrid comes in plastic bag or newspaper, leaving wheat bran crumbs all over, and announcing their arrival via delivery apps.
I realised there was poee to be found in Mumbai, I just needed to look beyond my nostalgia and accept its city version.
Where to buy poee
- Rostosa Kitchen: ₹35 each; minimum order of six. Pre-orders (two days). Whatsapp: 9833466412
- House of Poder: ₹100 for a pack of six poee. Call 99202936432
- Jazzy Jim’s CookHouse: ₹35 for plain poee; poi fillers are Rs 600-Rs 700. Pre-book only. WhatsApp 8779383510 between 9am and 9pm.
- The Comunidade Kitchen: ₹15 each; minimum order of a dozen. Call 9769226966
- Rodrigues Kitchen: ₹12 each; minimum order of eight. Call 9769555475
- Kate’s Kaffe in Santa Cruz sells a pack of three for ₹30. Call 7738165810/ 7738165889
- Wayne Bakers & More: ₹15 each. Call 9619053572
- Angela Rodrigues of Our Daily Bread: ₹10 each. Pickup available from Borivli. Call 9833062168
- Olive Foods in Vakola sells poee for ₹10 a piece, on pre-order.
- Aiyo Patrao food delivery service: ₹40 for a plate (of two).
- Pack-a-Pav’s new Pack-a-Pocket menu has four poee options — Bandra Bugger Mutton Poee, Mach Gaya Shor (Ma) Poee, Chilli Cheese Poee, Prawn Curry Poee. Call 9920230240
TO LEARN:
If you are looking to learn how to make poee, Alison Jane Lobo does virtual classes from her kitchen in Goa (Ally’s Goencho Pao classes: Rs 2,500 for three hours. Email alisonjanelobo@gmail.com or WhatsApp 8554054640). If you need a recipe, here’s one from Saee Koranne-Khandekar’s ‘Crumbs! Bread Stories and Recipes for the Indian Kitchen’.
READERS RECCOS:
Here are some suggestions from readers (I haven’t verified them)
- Shirin Bakery, Vakola
- Chandanwadi Bakery, Marine Lines
- Shree Prasad Bakery, Matharpacady. Rs 5 each. Call 09892393964
- Super Bakery, Mazagon
- Mangalore stores, Hill Road. (On Saturdays)
- Denver’s at Bazaar Road, Bandra. Call 98192 77713
