The number of feni lovers is fast shrinking in Goa. But
aficionados continue to swear by the poor man’s drink, writes Ashim
Choudhury
Remember
the good old times when you were going to Goa for a holiday and would
be burdened by pleas, “Can you bring some feni for me please?” Now, a
trip to Goa no longer elicits that kind of response. Now, if you tell a
friend, “I’m going to Goa… Should I bring some feni for you?” the answer
very likely will be,
“Nahi yaar… rehne de.” What they don’t
tell you openly is that they can’t stand the whiff of feni. Meanwhile,
feni has acquired a unique status after it was given GI or Geographical
Indicator in 2009. GI makes Feni unique to Goa much on the lines of
Tequila of Mexico, Scotch from Scotland or Champagne of France. Yet
cashew feni still remains the poor man’s drink despite desperate
promotional efforts by Goa’s fashionable set to keep the shrinking flock
of feni drinkers.
Feni production after GI has not climbed. It is made from ripe cashew
apples, fallen on the ground, but cashew apples are rotting at the
farms in Goa and its surroundings, without any takers. When asked why he
did not sell his cashew apples dumped on the ground, a cashew farmer on
the border with Karnataka remarked, “Who will buy?”
So why has feni lost its fizz? The fact is that in the past four
decades, feni production has been steadily falling, from 1,089,000
litres in 1971 to 875,000 litres in 2004. In the same period, production
of distilled spirits climbed from 202,000 litres to 18.99 million
litres.
One of the reasons for Goa’s current low turnover is that feni
continues to be labelled ‘country liquor’, preventing its sale outside
the state. Moreover, feni production still largely remains a cottage
industry. Not uncommonly, it is also distilled in individual homes sans a
licence. Why, even Goan priests, particularly from the south still like
to brew their own feni. “They still distill it in earthen pots the
traditional
lavani way,” says an old Goan who knows his feni.
A major problem with feni production is that there is no uniform
method of distilling it, nor is there any quality control. Not
surprisingly, much of the feni sold in Goa is spurious or adulterated. A
lot of it is produced by small, unlicensed producers. No wonder then,
no Goan will easily take you to a ‘fenifactory’ without permission from
the owner. This writer’s wait was so long he decided to go out on his
own.
From Anjuna village, we set out northwards and moved along to Mapusa,
finally coming upon the Goa- Mumbai highway. That’s where we met one
Chengappa who told us to go further on the highway till we cross a
river, and move up further. “Once you are near the
bhattis, you’ll know by the smell in the air,” he tells us.
Indeed, half an hour later, after crossing the scenic river below us,
our nostrils are invaded by the strong whiff of feni. This is Dhargal,
some 22 km north of Panjim. Driving on the gravel road, we are soon at
the feni distillery that looks somewhat like a cowshed and smells like
rotting garbage. The workers at the
bhatti show us around
readily. What I mistake to be a drain of sewage is actually the juice of
cashew apples that are being squeezed in a basket. This juice finally
finds its way through gutters into large copper pots that are being
constantly heated, distilled to form urak. The Kalogis have 20
matkas
or stills in all. Pulp and sludge from the Kalogi distillery also
flowed out untreated into the neighbouring farm, turning it into a
ditch.
We found Francis, another distiller, as we were heading for the
Arambol beach region when there was a sudden clearing in the forest that
revealed a blue river below. In this desolate place, except for a
beached boat along the serene river, there was not a soul in sight. Out
of sheer curiosity, I stepped into the palm shed from where some voices
emerged and lo and behold, this was a feni factory! Francis, his hands
muddy from repairing a still, showed us around. He took us through the
rows of urak and feni being distilled. There were several stills here,
in this place taken on rent by Francis.
This distillery is a cooperative of sorts. Six friends have got
together under a licence owner, who gets a fee from them. Francis and
two of his friends have two stills each. The remaining three have one
each. They are small distillers who come together for the months of
March and April when the cashew apple is abundantly available. The feni
they produce is sold directly to Goa bars. And how much does Francis
make in a season? “Nothing,” he says with a sense of resignation, “A jar
(20 bottles) fetches just Rs 700-800.” Francis laments that people are
not drinking feni the way they did earlier. Terekholkhari, the river on
whose banks the distillery is camouflaged, also serves as a border
between Maharashtra and Goa. If his distillery is on the Goa side,
Francis’s home across the river is in Maharashtra.
From Khareban village, my feni trail took me to Captain Vijay
Shankar, formerly of the Indian Navy, who lives in Porvorim near Panaji.
Hailing from Kerala, the man has not only a Goan wife but has also
adopted the state as his own. He loves his feni. Some describe him as a
connoisseur. He scoffs, “I’m just a feni drinker, nothing more.” Captain
Shankar goes great lengths to procure his pure stock of feni and urak.
“Urak is the first line distilled from the juice of cashew or
neera
and has a fresh fruity flavour,” he avows. It is also smoother and has
to be consumed within a month of being produced, unlike feni that can be
stored away for more than a year. Urak, after two-three rounds of
distillation, sometimes mixed with neera, becomes what is called feni.
It is great alcohol, but for its strong whiff. According to Shankar,
feni has an alcohol content of 50 to 60 percent. This is much higher
than the conventional whiskey or rum. But even Shankar does not take
feni regularly, because “my wife will kick me out of the house”.
Drinking feni makes your sweat, and other excretions, stink like the
alcohol. Feni also causes you to burp, inviting frowns from polite
people.
No wonder the number of feni lovers even within Goa is shrinking.
Krishna Sarmalatara, a young man in his thirties from Dhargal, wrinkles
his nose. “
Peene ko baas marta,” he says with disdain, “so we drink ‘English’ only.”
Captain Shankar, however, is happy that the GI tag has not really
taken feni off its humble roots. “Thank God,” he says, “Else, it’ll
disappear from the shelves… I can’t pay Rs 500, say, like for a shot of
Tequila… I pay Rs 100 for a litre of feni. Leave it alone for the sake
of the common Goan.” His fears of feni going beyond the reach of the
ordinary Goan have so far proved wrong. Meanwhile, coconut feni, common
to south Goa, is also suffering because the toddy tappers are no longer
available. Many vouch for its better taste and less odour.
Meanwhile, moves are afoot to give cashew feni ‘heritage’ or Indian
Manufactured Foreign Liquor (IMFL) status so that it can be exported.
After GI certification, only liquor made from cashew apples sourced
within Goa can be called ‘feni’. If marketed as a Goan holiday drink,
feni has huge potential. Industry people admit that GI has not helped
the cashew feni cause because of the ‘country-liquor’ tag. If classified
as IMFL, then the market for feni will open up.
“The GI certificate is to protect cashew feni,” says Cashew Feni
Distillers and Bottlers Association president Mac Vaz, who owns popular
feni brands. He says the GI tag will prevent other states such as
Maharashtra and Kerala, which also produce large quantities of cashew
apples, from producing and selling ‘feni’. Vaz is hopeful of the
government classifying cashew feni as ‘heritage liquor’ so that it can
be exported easily.
Hansel Vaz, owner of the popular feni brand Cazulo, says, “GI has
recognised the 400-year-old art of feni making. Now we need to reach out
to people at the grassroots, the small distillers, and tell them the
importance of sticking to best practices like using copper stills,
picking up only fallen fruit, not storing feni in plastic jars, and
other aspects of quality.” The association has also initiated measures
to certify genuine cashew feni. There are fears that this, ultimately,
might edge out the small distillers who own one or two stills, making
feni an exclusive club of the big boys, leaving some 45,000 people
without one of their main sources of income. With the government finally
waking up to feni’s newfound GI status, feni’s fizz, it appears, cannot
remain bottled for long.
Ashim Choudhury is the author of The Sergeant’s Son
2014-11-15 , Issue 46 Volume 11
Print & Email
