MY MOTHER’S BROTHER, my Uncle Felix, told a joke that goes like this. A man is told that eating ‘poy’ was the secret to having a good life. So, he travelled the world in search of poy. He visited each continent and many countries, but to no avail.

Eventually, he reached a remote monastery in the highest Himalayas, and asked one of the monks for poy. The monk invited him into the kitchen, and said to him: ”Today, we have Shepherds poy, cottagepoy, fish poy, steak and kidney poy, apple poy … just choose which you want.”
Thus, the joke ended.

During our visit to Goa, we have really discovered poy. Actually it is spelled ‘poyie’. It is not a pie as is suggested by my uncle’s joke, but a circular bread with a hollow interior. So, unlike the man in the joke, we have truly found ‘poy’. My uncle died many years ago. I would have liked to have been able to tell him about our discovery.