While I sometimes envy people who do not, in any capacity, depend on an alcohol-induced inebriation, I also pity them a little. I’ve often found, as a traveller, that an appreciation of the local alcohol is the most intimate way to acquaint yourself with wherever you may be. I know many who scoff at the smell, taste, and texture of caju feni. But to me, a Bombay Goan, the heady scent that fills any room the instant a bottle is opened is the very fragrance of Goa, as if it had all been distilled somehow into that singular essence; all of it, the red, laterite-rich soil, the woody-jammy fermented perfume of overripe cashews, the way the clear liquid gushes down your throat, warming every fibre of your being. When I have myself a glass of caju feni in Goa, my body instantly recognizes that I am back home, where I belong.

Australia makes excellent wine, and it’s quite cheap. Representation Pic/thinkstock