Getting to Grumps that night was an adventure in itself. We were already running late for our dinner reservation when the road began twisting through Sangolda—sharp curves, steep climbs and sudden descents, stretches where the network disappeared and returned, and patches of darkness where our headlights were the only source of light.
Grumps: dim light, foliage, bar energy, and cocktails.
Grumps occupies the grounds of Goro House, a Portuguese-era residence dating to the 1930s. The restaurant spans a restored outhouse, shaded verandah and garden canopy of mango, jackfruit and chikoo trees. Laterite walls, terrazzo floors, cane and teak furnishings, and warm amber lighting give it a contemporary take on the conviviality of an old Goan tavern, and open windows draw the garden into the room.
By night, Grumps takes on the easygoing character of a neighbourhood bar. The menu is generous with spice, acidity, sweetness and umami: Goan-inspired beef croquettes, dan dan noodles, krapow-style kebabs and butter garlic prawns with fermented chilli and yuzu: in no particular order, drawing from different corners of Asia while keeping one foot in Goa. The cocktails were classics reworked with clarified milk punches, cheese-washed spirits, pandan, coconut, lemongrass and house ferments; their names, borrowed from songs, add another layer of irreverence. “Grumps is our way of laughing at ourselves and embracing the lighter side of life,” say the founders.
