In Goa, Sunday was never an ordinary day. It was the one day when the morning began with extra excitement, when families came together without the rush of work or school, and when kitchens across the state came alive with the aromas of tradition. Long before restaurants and online food delivery, Sunday lunch was the highlight of the week, a ritual of food, family, and nostalgia that every Goan still carries in their heart.

The Sunday Morning Ritual

In many families, it was the most experienced member of the house, often an elder parent or grandparent who proudly carried the responsibility of choosing the best fish. They knew exactly how to check the eyes, the gills, and the shine of the scales to ensure the catch was truly fresh. Back then, almost everything in the market was the day’s catch from the rivers or the sea, unlike today when much of the fish is stored in ice, refrigerated, or even treated with chemicals. Alongside fish, vegetables like tambdi bhaji (red leafy vegetable), val (long beans), or bhende (ladyfingers) made their way into the basket. The clinking of poder’s cycle bell was another Sunday ritual, the delivery of fresh pao, poee, or unndo that no Goan home could do without.

Back home, the kitchen transformed into a lively space. The pounding of masala in the stone mortar, the grinding of coconut in the hand mill, and the sizzling of onions and spices in the pot were the sounds of love and anticipation.

A Goan Sunday Table

In many Goan homes, the star of Sunday lunch was fish curry rice, the simple yet soul satisfying combination that defines Goa. A bowl of hot rice, ladled with coconut rich fish curry, and accompanied by fried rava-coated bangde (mackerel) or tisryo (clams), was enough to bring smiles across the table.

There was also always a vegetable side: valachi bhaji, tambdi bhaji, or mulo(white radish) depending on the season. On special occasions, there might be khatkhate, a traditional mixed-vegetable curry with aromatic spices, often prepared during festivals but also cherished on lazy Sundays.

To accompany the curry rice, families often made bhakri, flatbreads of rice flour or nachne (ragi) that paired beautifully with gravies. And for dessert, Special Sundays sometimes ended with patoleo, rice cakes stuffed with jaggery and coconut, steamed in turmeric leaves, filling the house with a fragrance that is unforgettable.

In some houses after a hearty plate of fish curry rice, there would be a simple jaggery-based dessert, while in others more elaborate treats like bebinca, doce or dodol made their appearance. These sweets weren’t everyday affairs, but when they appeared, they made Sunday feel even more special like a reward after the feast.

More Than Just Food

What made Sunday lunches magical was not just the food, it was the atmosphere. It was a day when cousins, neighbors, or family friends often joined in, when laughter and stories flowed freely, and when children ran in and out of the house before being called to sit down for the meal. Elders spoke about old times, shared village gossip, or discussed politics.

After the meal, there was always a sense of calm. Some people stretched out on the balcao(outdoor porch), others took an afternoon nap under the fan, while the younger ones planned cricket matches in the paddy fields. Life moved slower on Sundays, and everyone embraced it.

The Fading Tradition

Today, as Goa modernizes, many of these Sunday traditions are fading. Families are smaller, members are busier, and restaurants often replace home-cooked meals. Yet, whenever Goans gather, whether in Dubai, London, Mumbai, or Goa, there is still one thing that binds them; the memory of Sunday lunches back home.

Ask any Goan abroad what they miss the most, and chances are they will say: the taste of fish curry rice on a Sunday afternoon. That taste is more than just food, it is memory, identity, and love.

Conclusion

Sunday in Goa was never just a day; it was a celebration of family, tradition, and the joy of simple living. Whether it was fish curry or a bhakri with tambdi bhaji or with coconut desserts the spirit was the same, togetherness.

Even as times change, the nostalgia of those Sunday spreads continues to live in our hearts. Because for every Goan, wherever they may be in the world, Sunday will always mean the taste of home.