The author's earliest memories as a child are those of being perched on his aunt, Tia Zanita's hip or on the kitchen platform in his night clothes, patiently waiting for the first chapatti to be rolled out and fried for breakfast. He never really left the kitchen after breakfast, as he knew that Tia Zanita or Minha Mãe would leave their teacup on the table and begin grating the coconut into 'chun' in preparation for the day's curry.

Like most Goans, they needed their daily fix of fish curry, and the author in turn needed his fix of 'chun'. Chewing on it, he would watch in fascination as it mixed with the spices and magically transformed into a rich orange curry paste on the rogddo.