The dream they kneaded today: The story of Cocoa Moga

Narayan Pissurlenkar

In the quiet lanes of Verla–Parra, where mornings are still soft and unhurried, the lights at Cocoa Moga Artisanal Bakery and Cafe switch on long before sunrise. Inside, there is the gentle thud of dough on a cold table, the careful folding of butter into layers, and the smell of chocolate beginning to melt. This is a dream built slowly, patiently, by husband-and-wife duo Radhika Walke and Eldridge Lobo.

Hospitality roots

Radhika trained in hospitality and spent seven years in five-star hotels and standalone restaurants. The kitchens were big, the standards exacting, the pace relentless. Then COVID arrived, and everything stopped.

“While the world paused, I started baking from home,” she says. “Croissants always fascinated me. There’s so much science behind them with temperature, flour, and butter. It’s delicate. It’s demanding. I loved that.”

Pandemic pivot

What began as therapy in uncertain times turned into purpose. Orders from friends became orders from strangers. People responded not just to the taste, but to the care.

Around that time, she married Eldridge, a chef who had been running Eldou’s in Siolim with his parents, a Goan restaurant rooted in local flavours and live music. After the pandemic, the couple chose to start something together.

“This was Radhu’s dream,” Eldridge says simply. “So we decided to build it.”

Humble beginnings

The first year of Cocoa Moga was humble. There were no café tables, no polished interiors. Radhika baked before dawn, and they supplied to restaurants and small clients. But customers kept asking for more. They wanted to sit, to sip coffee, to break a croissant while it was still warm.

In the second year, they added chairs and a coffee machine. The café grew because people asked it to grow.

Sacred mornings

Their mornings are still sacred. Radhika starts at 6 am. “Before the sun is out and the kitchen gets hot, we ice our tables and start laminating,” she says. Butter and dough are folded again and again with care. Cakes are layered. Breads are proofed. By 9 am, the display is full. But the work behind it began hours earlier, in silence.

No shortcuts

Quality is not a talking point for them. It is a habit. They use couverture Belgian chocolate. French butter with higher fat content for better flavour and texture. Everything from breads and sauces to meats is made in-house.

“We don’t cut corners,” Eldridge says. He is out early each morning sourcing produce himself. “We make food the way we would want to eat it.”

Signature bites

The menu carries their personalities. The BLT with in-house bacon, the French toast that has become a crowd favourite, the pain au chocolat and almond croissants that often sell out, the Korean cream cheese garlic bun that surprises first-timers, and Radhika’s triple chocolate sea salt cookies, her comfort bite at any hour.

Loyal patrons

But beyond the food, what keeps the doors open is something deeper.

“Right now, I’m making a birthday cake for a child whose mother has ordered from me for six years,” Radhika says. “Even before we opened the café.”

Customers travel from Pernem and other distant towns, passing several bakeries on the way. They pay extra for transport. They wait patiently during rush hours. They trust.

“People know we don’t add preservatives. They know we use good products,” Eldridge says. “That trust means everything.”

Community kitchen

The café has become a living, breathing community. Children walk in with handmade cards. Families return every year for birthdays and Sunday breakfasts. The kitchen team, mostly women, works with a sense of pride and ownership that feels personal.

“Some of the old aunties come in and ask, ‘Where’s my handsome boy?’ looking for Eldridge,” Radhika says, laughing. “It feels like one big, fat family.”

Honest hustle

And that is what moves them most; not just steady business, but steady relationships. Watching someone take a first bite and close their eyes. Hearing a child say it’s the best cake ever. Seeing regulars who have grown alongside the café.

“It’s not glamorous like social media makes it look,” Radhika says honestly. “It’s hard work. It’s early mornings. It’s exhaustion. But when someone leaves with a big smile and says, ‘That was lovely,’ it makes everything worth it.”

Dream advice

Eldridge has his own message for those standing at the edge of a dream. “Fail fast so you can succeed fast,” he says. “Don’t be scared to try. Working hard for yourself, for something you love, feels different.”

Radhika nods. “We think too little of ourselves sometimes. But you’ve got it in you. Take one step at a time. Focus on good food. Don’t cheat anyone. No shortcuts.”

In this small kitchen in Verla–Parra, before the sun rises, that belief is folded into every layer of dough. And by the time the doors open, it is ready to be shared.