Goa, India – “Drink before the ice melts,” says Eunice Lima Fernandes De Sa, almost sternly, as she places three tall glasses of a pale, milky liquid onto a lace-covered table at her home in Ribandar, a village on the banks of the Mandovi River, a few kilometres from Panaji, Goa's capital.
Settling into her verandah overlooking the river below, I lift my glass. The first icy sip sends a sharp ache across my forehead, forcing me to pause. An almond richness coats my tongue before giving way to a mild sweetness.
Ahead, a small garden slopes away from the house. There, her three-year-old grandson clutches a plastic bottle filled with the same cloudy white drink. Every few seconds, he pauses to take another sip before glancing curiously in our direction.
"This is my orchata!" he sings out, waving the bottle at us.
To him, it is simply a favourite drink. For many Goans, however, the orchata has faded from everyday memory; others have never even heard of it.
But for those who remember it, it carries family histories, celebrations and summers that stretch back generations.