Insia Lacewalla

When it comes to seafood, you’re going to have to forget the beach-shack stereotype. Goa’s most rewarding fish thalis aren’t found by the sea, but are tucked away in quiet villages, family-run kitchens, and unassuming dining rooms where lunch is a ritual, and culinary pride runs deep. From time-honoured classics to contemporary interpretations, these are the places that locals swear by and the ones that remind you that real Goan flavours are simmered slowly and served with heart.  

India’s boutique hotel scene is in the midst of a bit of a renaissance. Generic, cookie-cutter luxury’s been chucked out of the window – and thank god, I say. The most compelling properties right now are seriously rethinking luxury in the Indian context, and that means creating spaces where architecture and hospitality sit comfortably between old and new.  The result, when done right, can be stunning. The best design-forward hotels, like the ones I’ve listed in this guide, aren’t too obsessed with the tired heritage aesthetic – not overtly, anyway. Nor have they fallen into the cold, minimalist, modernist trap that repels Indian maximalism. And the country, large as it is, possesses a variety that is bound to have something for every traveller: revamped Rajasthani havelis, fortresses flanking the Konkan coast, snow-topped retreats clinging to the very tops of the Himalayas.  The hotels in the list I’ve put together go beyond the perfect mattress and fancy bathroom – and while a couple are pricey, the others won’t break the bank. Their trademark is an authentic luxury that feels superior, organic, beautifully crafted. Far from a Dubai hotel catalogue is what I mean to say.

Time Out Says When Jimmy Patel's childhood trips to Sasan Gir ignited a lifelong obsession with India's last Asiatic lions, he probably didn't imagine he'd one day build what is, essentially, a love letter to Gujarat's wilderness. But here we are, and thank god for that, because Aramness, sitting pretty on the edge of Sasan Gir National Park, is the kind of place that makes you wonder why anyone settled for generic safari lodges in the first place. The name’s a mish-mash of two Gujarati words: aram (peace) and ness (village), which neatly sums up what you're getting. This isn't some cookie-cutter safari operation. It's an 18-kothi luxury lodge where hand-carved sandstone jali screens cast dappled light like fallen sal leaves, where your mango comes from trees you can literally see from your room, and where the design takes its cues from the meandering cobbled streets of nearby Haripur village. Nicholas Plewman Architects and Fox Browne Creative have created something that somehow feels both deeply rooted and impossibly chic.   Why stay at Aramness Gir? Because nowhere else in Gujarat, or maybe even all of India, offers this particular cocktail of barefoot luxury, conservation-minded travel, and genuine connection to place. This is the ONLY boutique lodge bordering Sasan Gir National Park, home to the world's last remaining Asiatic lions and the semi-nomadic Maldhari tribe.  The 18-square-kilometre teak forest surrounding the property also means additional wildlife like chital

 Time Out says When the Lal Haveli was built in 1871, it’s unlikely that anybody imagined it would one day house guests drinking craft cocktails in the lounge. The Johri has taken the historic building (once used as a pivotal centre for India’s Independence Movement)  and turned it into a place of such bejewelled opulence that it’s quickly dominated the hotel scene in Jaipur. This is no small feat, given the lavishness of Rajput hospitality is known by folks far and wide.    Why stay at The Johri? There’s something about the hotel that makes it the most meaningful of all things: genuine. The architecture, while decadent and reminiscent of Rajput, Mughal, and neoclassical elements, doesn’t feel contrived or out of place in the middle of the bustling Johri Bazaar. Designer Naina Shah seems to have imbued the place with the soul of the city – with additions like bone-inlay detailing and hand painted murals, the restoration of the old haveli has been done full justice.  Another plus is the location. It’s an interesting choice to place a luxury hotel inside the thick of a bazaar. While some may be initially taken aback by how busy the winding marketplace is, I’d say it adds to the old-world charm. One step out of the hotel and you’re immediately in Old Jaipur, with the City Palace, Hawa Mahal and Jantar Mantar within walking distance. The market itself is a delight, and is lined with some of the city’s best gem shops and textile houses. Some will be pricey given the prime location

Time Out says Vaayu Kula’s been nine years in the making, and it’s not your standard North Goa beach club fiesta. Sure, it’s committed to bringing you a proper beachfront property with a full-on luxury experience – but with upcycled antique furniture, environmental film screenings, and regular beach clean-up programmes.  There’s a sense of responsibility and community living at Vaayu that’s sort of sweetly inspirational in a way. One could call it conscious capitalism – yeah, your couple’s bathroom is fitted with marble, but they’ll make you lug your own suitcase up a sandy village path.    Why stay at Vaayu Kula? Mandrem’s a delectably empty spot on the wider crowd-filled Goan coastline. Vaayu Kula, in fact, is the grown-up sibling of the original Vaayu Village started by surf-lover Rahul Malaney back in 2013, and it wears its maturity well. If you’re the sort that prefers dolphin-watching over sunbathing and ticks people off for reducing sustainability to a buzzword, this is the place for you. It’s very much a hotel for people who’ve outgrown the party scene and want to remember what the original Goan beach holiday felt like before the rest of the world showed up. They’re also dizzyingly sincere about the sustainability bit. They use a heat pump hot water system to conserve energy, there’s a biodigester waste treatment on site, all their waste is composed, and they also organise regular beach cleanups and dog sterilisation programmes. The folks are founding members of the R

Bombil, though of course known for its fish thalis, doesn’t immediately strike you as one if you’re going by general ambience. The modest-sized joint in Goa’s capital, Panaji, welcomes a steady stream of locals, students, tourists and office-goers alike, who know (or have heard, rightly) that the food talks louder than décor. Chef-owner Joseph Dias (who goes by Jo) conceived Bombil as a tribute to the no-frills family haunts he grew up with, and it shows: the interiors are playful but pared back, featuring Mario Miranda-style artefacts, murals of local fishing hamlets, and a corner beside a large glass window. The menu places fish front and centre, and the item that everyone usually gets is the Pischef Thali – a culinary roll-call of Goa’s coastline. There’s bangda (mackerel) fry, korbot (crab) curry, prawns galmo chops, tishre sukhe (clams cooked dry with coconut), and dry bombil salad, each bursting with distinct personality. Side dishes like solkadhi, house-made pickles, crushed poppadoms and even a macaroni soup round out the platter, nudging along the palate in a transition from spice to sweetness. If you’re looking to go all-out, Bombil’s got you – the menu’s got plenty of other options, including special thalis that highlight prawn, kingfish, barramundi, and even Goan sausage. A banger add-on is to be found in the Goan Chorizo Pulao – a sleeper hit worth getting even if you’re struggling to finish the thali.  The setting itself is simple. No air-conditioning, because i

You wouldn’t look twice at Sai if you were to walk by. The signboard’s handpainted, the yellow facade is plain and unadorned, and you have no idea what you’re doing in the sleepy village of Corjuem near Aldona anyway (though actually, it’s recently emerged as a popular locale among new settlers in Goa). But if you were to walk past it, locals and tourists in the know would call you an idiot. Inside, you’re met with the whir of the ceiling fans, plastic chairs scraping against the tiled floor, and the low hum of the small television set that plays only Hindi-dubbed Tamil action films. And it’s packed. Always.  The menu shifts daily and is guided entirely by that morning’s catch and whatever catches the staff’s eye at the fish market. You could chance upon a fiery fish head curry or prawns hooman simmered in coconut and kokum, or if you’re really lucky, a perfectly crisp rava-fried chonak that arrives still crackling. You get everything neatly arranged on your thali, accompanied by two big mounds of rice, curry, clams, vegetables, and pickle, and the portions are generous.  Given the hubbub, it’s worth noting that while the service is swift, it never feels hurried. The staff – all locals – move with the quiet choreography of familiarity, so a nod brings more curry, an empty plate warrants an immediate refill of rice, and a passing smile might get your server to convince you to get the rava-fried prawn. You ought to know that coming early is non-negotiable, and on weekends, the

When a beloved local restaurant decides it’s going to up its game, the results can often be disastrous. But that’s not what happened at Spice Goa’s Sangolda outpost.That a humble joint which started out over 25 years ago in Karaswada has transformed into a surprisingly elegant restaurant is a journey worthy of praise in itself. But what’s exceptional is how the new outlet’s managed to retain the heart of traditional Goan cooking and present it with a sophistication rarely associated with a seafood thali. Under the stewardship of Atul and Aparna Shah, Spice Goa had already perfected the thali. The star at the new outlet is the Chonak Thali – a beautifully composed platter that captures the essence of coastal cooking. The golden rawa-fried chonak anchors the meal, flanked by prawn curry, clams, prawn kismoor, seasonal vegetables, and kokum kadhi (a lighter, tangier cousin of solkadhi). There’s a sort of assuredness that comes through with every bite. It’s something only years of repetition and consistency can deliver.  That’s partially because Atul, with his two sons Rohan and Yash, runs a tight ship. The masalas are made by Aparna and sent to both outlets, which makes sure of the fact that there’s no quality mismatch. Atul himself makes a trip to the fish market every morning and is hugely popular among the local fishermen, from whom he buys his daily loot. He’s known in local circles for being stringent about checking each piece of fish for freshness before he serves it on a