Meal 26: Bulgaria

Since we took a break last weekend, I thought I'd be smart and get a head start on Bulgarian shopping and get some exercise in the meanwhile. So I hopped on my bike and rode nearly nine miles to Brighton Beach, only to discover that while it's the place to go for Russian, Ukrainian, and even Georgian food, they just don't have Bulgarian there. When I asked for lukanka, a type of dry-cured sausage, the kind lady at a deli said, "Oh, you have to go to Astoria, Queens, that's the only place." So I rode the Q train two stops short the entire distance, and found virtually everything on my shopping list including Bulgarian-style yogurt and, yes, lukanka.

Thanks to this head start, I made both the pickled vegetables and the millet beer well ahead of time. The rest of the dishes were either simple to whip up in advance, or took a long time in the oven — no short-order prep here! So for the first time in 26 meals, I wasn't scurrying when guests arrived. And I was glad to have plenty of time to get to know them, since six were brand new to United Noshes: Melanie, Angad, Phia, Rachael, Noah, and Kara. Kirsty and Jessica, two frequent noshers, rounded out the table.

We should also note that between brandy, beer, and wine, and the rockin' tunes, we had quite a fun Saturday evening.

Lukanka, sujuk, kashkaval | Cured sausage and cheese

These two salami-like, dry-cured sausages were really tasty. The sujuk had a good rich meaty flavor, while the lukanka had a great cumin tone. The name for the semi-firm, mildly flavored kashkaval cheese presumably comes from the Italian caciocavallo, and while it's a well known and enjoyed cheese in Bulgaria, it definitely plays second fiddle to sirene, or what we know as feta.

Lyutenitza | Pepper and tomato relish | Recipe

Similar to the ajvar we enjoyed for Bosnia, but this time I made a lot less of it and also cut out the eggplant, and instead added a chili pepper. For flavor and fun, I flame-roasted the peppers on the stovetop. Note that instead of grinding up some lame winter tomatoes, I just used some canned tomato puree.

Trushia | Pickled vegetables | Recipe

In the olden days, if you wanted vegetables throughout the winter, you had to pickle them. The quantities in the recipes I found for both trushia and lyutenitza were both enormous — all that you see in the jar above is less than half of what was called for. Also, despite my feeling clever for having started a whole week beforehand, a true trushia takes a few weeks to set in, so this was more of a quick pickle, with sugar in addition to the standard vinegar and salt. I also added some bay, thyme, and black pepper as I'd seen suggested in other recipes. It was tasty and popular, in fact by the end of the meal there was hardly any left.

Tradicionna pitka | Egg bread | Recipe

I'm really sorry that this recipe takes forever to load, it's a huge file off a slow server. Anyway, this pretty bread is loaded with eggs and butter. The recipe wasn't clear on how much yeast was required, so I used a standard packet's worth and it seemed to work OK. However, maybe I should have added more sugar, because for all the rich ingredients it still wasn't incredibly flavorful. Or maybe that's how it should be? Anyway, it looked pretty and it all disappeared so I guess I shouldn't be too disappointed.

Boza | Millet beer | Recipe

After my success in making ginger beer for Barbados, I tried my hand at making this sweet, almost milky, low-alcohol homebrew. Although you're supposed to use a cup of boza to start the next batch of boza, since I had none to begin with I used my sourdough starter to kick it off. And lo and behold, it worked: after three days I had a rich, fizzy drink that was at once comforting and strange. Consensus around the table was that it was worth a few sips but wasn't incredibly quaffable. That hesitation may have come from the legend that I've read in a few places that consuming boza leads to larger breasts — supposedly the lactic acid stimulates them, but that sounds pretty suspect. Also, after sitting out of the fridge for about a half hour, one of the bottles suddenly had its cork fly out. It's alive!!

Shopska salata | Peasant salad with cheese | Recipe

This recipe begins with what is quite possibly the most ridiculous homage to a salad I've ever read:

May we say that it is an ancient invention and one of fundamental importance for civilization, although it is not mentioned in any encyclopaedia. Certainly, it is as important as the invention of the wheel and the use of fire. Shopska is beautiful, tasty, juicy, piquant, and flavoury. It is like Nature - indescribable.... It may be served as a single meal, as the first dish, together with the main dish, after meal, or just as a snack. You can offer it to your guests by way of welcome. You can serve it by way of goodbye.

It was indeed tasty, but lest you get all worked up, just realize that this is a minor variation of what you probably know of as a Greek salad. (But don't tell a Bulgarian that!) And despite the above description, at least one source implies that the salad was invented about fifty years ago.

Tarator | Cold yogurt-cucumber soup | Recipe

Bulgaria's most famous food is yogurt. I've not yet had the fortune of eating yogurt in Bulgaria, but hands down my favorite type of yogurt is the Bulgarian style. It's thicker than most, but not strained like Greek yogurt, and has both depth of flavor and a fantastic tanginess. Pretty much any culture that makes yogurt seems to have figured out that it goes great with cucumbers and garlic — from the Greek tzatziki, to the Indian raita, and even the Afghan drink known as dough (careful readers of this blog from the beginning will remember to pronounce it in the Klingon style) — yet this famous cold soup makes one very subtle yet interesting tweak: just a few crushed walnuts add a soupçon of depth and woodiness to contrast the tang and crisp of the other ingredients. It was lovely, yet I bet it's a true godsend when it's hot out.

Kapama | Meat and sauerkraut casserole | Recipe

This dish has just about everything: blood sausage, veal, chicken, smoked bacon, and pork, all interlaced with sauerkraut and rice. It's shockingly easy to make, just cut up all the meat, layer it, and bake for four hours. If you like meat, and are extremely hungry, this is quite a treat.

Tutmanik | Feta-stuffed bread | Recipe

I made this with the second half of the dough for the pitka above. It was pretty fun to make: you roll out the dough, sprinkle with feta, fold in the corners, flip it over, and roll and repeat three more times to make all sorts of layers of cheese. It was pretty, though the flavor was a bit lacking. I'd like to try this technique sometime and add a few different ingredients, maybe spinach or feta or sausage.

Tikvenik | Pumpkin-walnut filo pastry | Recipe

Banitsa is the catch-all word for pastry; even the tutmanik cheese bread gets wrapped into that category. But to pay homage to the filo-based core of this genre, and also to try something a little novel for dessert, I made this little filo rollups with shredded pumpkin, walnuts, and cinnamon inside. It was a bit of a mindbender, since it looks and crackles like baklava, but is not nearly as sweet and has a much more complex flavor.

Throughout the meal, we enjoyed a variety of Bulgarian music, which pleasantly surprised us with its Middle East-style pop tunes (read up on chalga) and gorgeous choral harmonies. If you have Spotify, it's well worth a listen to the playlist.

Six of our next seven meals are from Africa. We dive into things with Burundi next week!

Photos by Laura Hadden.

Meal 25: Brunei Darussalam

Hands down, Brunei posed the biggest challenge to date. Partly due to the fact that this small, wealthy, Islamic sultanate is proud of its internationally diverse culinary culture, there's not a ton of info available online about distinctly Bruneian foods. It was an online treasure hunt, with plenty of Google Translate and a few key finds such as an article from a Philippine newspaper, leading me mostly to ethnically Malay recipes that seemed to also be popular in Brunei. Then, finding the ingredients was tough: with the go-to Indonesian place in Chinatown recently closed, I found most of what I needed at Asia Corp and Hong Kong Supermarket, then had to head to Murray Hill for a few last things — and even then a few ingredients, such as fermented durian, proved totally elusive. At least I found most of what I needed, here's some of the loot I picked up:

Tonight's meal was, as Emily puts it, "vegaquarian," so no meat but plenty of fish of various sizes. Our other guests were Kate, Nick, Raven, Eleanor, and Forrest. They were all extremely patient and helpful as I tried to figure out what the heck to make of the various recipes.

Laura also tried out a 50 mm lens for tonight's photography, and we think it turned out pretty well – note the tight focus on a lot of the photos.

Teh tarik | Sweet milky tea | Recipe

Meaning "pulled tea," this is black tea (we used Assam) with sweetened condensed milk that's poured back and forth for three reasons: to cool it off, to make it all frothy, and for entertainment. The latter proved difficult, since it's hard to pour cleanly between glasses, so we did it in bulk as Raven demonstrates above. This tasty caffeinated sugary drink, combined with the various alcoholic beverages which we consumed — perhaps problematically, since no alcohol is sold in Brunei! — led to a bit of a Four Loko effect and hence some highly animated conversation.

Ambuyat | Sago starch | Description

Ambuyat is supposed to be a smooth, gelatinous blob (like here), made from the starch of the felled sago palm, and supposedly the one distinctively Bruneian dish. I scoured for it, didn't find it in Chinatown, finally discovered that it's also in Indian cuisine and available in NYC, and what I found was called "tapioca" but also had the word sago on it a few times so I figured what the heck. Well, it just didn't work at all. Rather than a smooth, flavorless mass, it looked like, well, tapioca, and tasted on the nasty side of bland. We couldn't do the twirly-stick thing you were supposed to, so instead we scooped it onto our plates like rice. Maybe the sago was supposed to be a powder rather than in balls? Who knows — if you do, let me know!

Fish stew with tamarind, lemongrass, and fresh turmeric | Recipe

Well, if the ambuyat was a failure, the fish I made to go with it was a huge success, and probably the one thing I'd make again. First I pounded generous amounts of shallots, lemongrass, hot little red peppers, ginger and fresh turmeric (well, it was frozen, but that's as opposed to powdered), in fact I muddled it in a shaker like a mojito. Then made a stew with tamarind (more on that particular fruit later), and slowly simmered basa fish in it. Totally delicious, if a bit too spicy, but some guests liked that!

Cacah | Sour dipping sauce | Recipe

Pronounced cha-cha, these flavors were certainly an exotic dance in the mouth. The recipe I link to has no proportions, and also I couldn't find pickled binjal (a fruit that seems close to a green mango) nor tempoyak (fermented durian), so here's what I did with what I could find that turned out about as well as I could have hoped, without of course knowing what it's actually supposed to taste like:

  • 2 slices picked green mango
  • half-pound preserved turnip
  • 6 Thai chilis (the hot little red guys)
  • half-inch slice of shrimp paste (belacan), so probably 1.5 tablespoons
  • 1 ounce tiny-ass dried shrimp
  • half-cup lime juice
  • small lump of palm jaggery (could easily use brown sugar)
  • a bit of sambal oelek since I didn't have another type of fresh chilies
  • a little over a half-cup of broth made from dried anchovies and a bit of turmeric root

Holy cow, it was weird, but it was tangy and fishy and spicy and I think that that's about how it should have been. To make a vegetarian version, I did the above but just removed the fish products and made a broth just with turmeric.

This preparation, which probably involved 100 tiny little shrimps and anchovies plus however many went into the shrimp paste, reminded me of an article that my friend Max quoted to me a few days prior, about how Tibetan Buddhists, who ought to be vegetarian, by necessity of their geography have to eat meat — and so they eat big animals:

“The karmic load of killing one rabbit and one yak are the same: one life,” he said. “But you can feed a lot more people with a yak.”

By the way, what's pictured above is a fish-free version I made; the fishy one is a bit paler and redder. Also, in the pitcher is calamansi (aka ketsuri) juice, which tastes halfway between lime and tangerine and is 100% delicious (especially with rum). A can of concentrate which makes a whole pitcher runs about $2 at Asia Corp, I plan on making this a mainstay in our freezer!

Rebus asam keladi | Boiled yam in sour sauce | Recipe

Since I just couldn't find yam shoots anywhere, I made this dish with straight-up purple yams. And just like with Benin, I found that the raw peeled yam has a weird anesthetic effect for me, so I had to use silicone potholders to handle it. Anyway. This dish was similarly intense to the cacah, with fishy and spicy flavors abounding. We also had the dubious visual pleasure of tamarind, which is a really tasty and tangy fruit, but has the unfortunate visual aspect to merit Laura's nickname for them: poop nuts. Seems pretty apt.

Sambal manga | Ripe mango salad | Recipe

A nice, simple little salad. Note how the recipe calls it "ripe mango," since unripe green mango is a popular salad ingredient too. I made this one without the fish paste just to give everyone a break.

Urap | Cooked vegetables with coconut | Recipe

And just because I was somehow afraid we'd all go hungry, I made yet another veggie dish. I shrunk the recipe a bit by omitting the carrots and cabbage, and still think we had plenty to enjoy. The fresh shredded coconut on top was a nice touch.

Bubur ketam hitam | Black rice pudding | Recipe

You know you've just had an exotic meal when gelatinous black rice feels like a comforting return to normal food. And it was actually pretty tasty. We sweetened it with palm sugar to what felt like the culturally accurate amount, which is to say about half as sweet as I'd have liked. On top we poured fresh coconut milk, which I made by mushing around shredded coconut in fresh water.

It was a fun crowd, with lively discussions of game shows, competitive nakedness (don't ask!), and much more. And once again, our generous guests helped us make something bigger out of the meal, with another $180 going to the World Food Program.

We're taking off again next week, and then a major shift up to the yogurt and pork of Bulgaria.

Meal 24: Brazil

Brazil is a hugely diverse country both geographically and demographically. Well, first, it's just huge, ranking #5 for both land area and population. The geography spans from the depths of the Amazon jungle to tropical shores (over 4,500 miles' worth!) to temperate cattle-grazing lands. Its people come from all over, and of course brought their foods with them: Africans brought palm oil and okra, Europeans contributed pastry and cattle, the local lands provide manioc and all manner of fruit. (Also, did you know that São Paulo has the largest Japanese population of any city outside of Japan?) To that end, I did my best to choose a menu incorporating this diversity.

To bring a flavor of the tropics to this cold February weekend, I trundled up to Astoria again, where the Rio Supermarket had every last Brazilian specialty item on my shopping list. At the buffet here, rather than at home, is where I enjoyed feijoada — while it is the favorite for being Brazil's national dish, it didn't fit with my regional-specialties ambition. It wasn't until I was done shopping that I realized this is an entirely gluten-free menu: celiacs take note! Manioc/cassava/tapioca is your friend.

We had quite the media-inclined group around the table. From Laura's MFA IMA program were Cassie (with friend Marian), Nathan (with friend Sophia) and Esy; Andi from UN News and Media, Lisa, and Sophie. Cassie spent a year as a high schooler in Brazil and regaled us with tales, especially of some of the courtship rituals around Carnaval; Lisa has some Brazilian family too.

Caipirinhas and caipiroshkas

Lisa came prepared to tend bar, with a sack of limes and all the necessary equipment to make the classic Brazilian cocktail of cachaça, sugar, and muddled lime. (Cachaça is pronounced kuh-SHAW-suh; while rum is made from molasses, cachaça comes from pure sugar cane juice.) "Caipirinha" apparently is the diminutive of the word for "hillbilly." We also had caipiroshkas, the same drink made from vodka. Thank you Lisa!

Some of us also poured in cashew juice, made from the fruit from which the cashew nut emerges. (Pictures are crazy!) It's a lovely flavor, surprised it hasn't caught on here.

Pão de queijo | Cheese breads | Recipe

These must be extremely popular in Brazil if only judging from how many different types of mixes and frozen packages I saw in the store. Also, as you'll see on the recipe, some serious study has been applied to the chemical interaction between the ingredients.  These pão deserve the love and attention since they're pretty great: a bit crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, cheesy and salty, a consummate snack.

When making them I think I messed up by putting in too much milk, so if you're inclined to make them, please follow the metric weights on the recipe and not the vaguely estimated volume equivalents. I used up all my manioc flour, so I put in some soft wheat flour to make up the difference (left over from Bosnia!). I still couldn't manage to roll it by hand, so I treated them like drop cookies, leading to some silly shapes such as above. But no matter: they tasted great.

Couve refogada | Sautéed collard greens | Recipe

Southern US cuisine cooks its collards nice and slow, with fat and salt, for up to a few hours until the big leaves turn pale and soften up. The Brazilians do just about the opposite: cut into a chiffonade, sautéed for just a few minutes on high heat, preserving their texture and color. Apparently this is such a common approach that you can buy your collards pre-cut in your typical grocery in Brazil.

Moqueca | Fish stew | Recipe

Bahia, in the northeast, would snuggle up against Angola if Africa and South America were smushed back together (see?). And it was when we cooked Angolan food that we first encountered the richly flavored and, uh, gut-lubricating red palm oil. This Bahian fish stew features some of this oil, known as aceite de dendê, but in much more moderate quantities. With an hours-long marinade, tilapia and shrimp, coconut milk and more, I expected that this would be richly flavored and tasty, but while it was totally fine to eat it wasn't a knockout. Maybe it'd be better if I'd made my own fish stock or found more exciting fish than tilapia — so keep this in mind if you plan to make it.

Feijão tropeiro | Cattleman's beans | Recipe

One could say that feijão tropeiro is to the Brazilian cerrado what chile con carne is to the American southwest: a staple of settlers traversing an unreliable land that's now a comfort food with infinite variations. This recipe is from Minas Gerais, the state that occupies a France-sized swathe of the interior north of São Paulo and Rio. My one variation from the recipe is that instead of the fried pork rind, I substituted dried beef since that's what they had at the store. I also used carioca beans, which I just learned were specifically developed in Brazil for high yield and nutrition. (They also taste quite good!) Sprinkled with toasted manioc for texture and starch, this makes for a substantial core of a meal, and I was happy to see a few guests eagerly take home the leftovers.

Sorvete de graviola | Soursop frozen yogurt | Recipe

Brazil has a wide variety of fruits that either have no translation into English (see below) or have English names that sound so weird I wonder why we have one. Soursop just sounds really unappealing. But get past the name, and it's pretty tasty, definitely tangy, with a bit of a bready texture. I ended up making this sorvete with nonfat yogurt, since it's the only non-flavored, non-Greek yogurt I could find at the two markets around the corner. (The challenges of a yuppie neighborhood!)

Pudim de cupuaçu | Cupuaçu flan | Recipe

If only this flan tasted as good as it looks! The caramel was fine, and also insanely tedious, taking about 40 minutes of careful stirring. The texture was marvelous. But despite my hopes and expectations for cooking with this close relative of cacao, it just tasted weird and not in a good way. Good thing I made two desserts!

All in all, I was a bit disappointed in Brazilian food. Maybe it was my technique, but the only dish that I knowingly messed up turned out really nicely anyway. But the company was fantastic, we shared plenty of stories and laughs.

Next week we're taking off, and after that we're heading over to Brunei Darussalam for a very different angle on what tropical cooking can be!

Meal 23: Botswana

We were super fortunate to have a Botswanan on hand! Ssebbaale, from the north of this large but sparsely populated country in southern Africa,  is a colleague of previous nosher Jessica. Not only did he share recipes before coming — which was very helpful since there's precious little online in the way of Botswanan recipes — but he also brought spices he'd recently picked up back home. And those spices made all the difference in giving the dishes a lovely, exotic flavor.

Our other guests for this novel Saturday meal were Jessica M. and Alex, Sarah-Doe and her friend Carolyn, and Jessica G. and her friends Eli and Nadia.

Shisanyama / Braai | Barbecue

Shisanyama means "burn the meat" in Zulu, while Braai is the Afrikaans word for "barbecue." And this one was really flavorful. Earlier in the afternoon I started with citrus-based marinades — a basic lemon-and-oil for the cuts of beef and a Jamaican jerk for the chicken (sorry, lied about not linking!). Then when Ssebbaale came, we augmented the marinades with all sorts of wonderful spices he'd brought back with him, including Robertsons Shisanyama and Steak & Chops mixes which had unfortunately extremely vague ingredient lists.

Fortunately the evening was pretty mild, so it wasn't a big problem to fire up the grill. The chicken turned out nice and moist, the beef decently tender, and everything really tasty. Only wish we'd made a bit more!

Moragaraga wa dinama | Pasta casserole with meat

When Ssebbaale first gave me the ingredients for this dish, it sure seemed like a tasty but fairly country-agnostic dish. But oh, when he got to work in the kitchen and threw in a bunch of spices, it came to life. And some peri-peri hot sauce really made it great. The recipe is at the end of the post.

Beetroot and cabbage salad

Unfortunately we just couldn't get the sorts of greens that are native in Botswana, but fortunately we had this other option. Pretty simple, tasty, and quite nutritious: peel and shred beets, boil a few minutes and drain; shred cabbage; put both in a bowl and add mayo, salt, and pepper.

Paletshe | Corn mush

Ssebbaale was really on the fence about whether to make this, since it's a lot of effort for what's essentially bland starch, and it wasn't even clear whether the cornmeal I bought would be the right consistency to make what's generally known in southern Africa as "pap." But then it came to light that Eli is gluten-free so the decision was made. This dish infamously requires a lot of arm strength, and Sarah-Doe stepped it up, with lots of stirring and pounding, and Ssebbaale was so pleased with the end result that he took note of the brand name of the corn (it's Indian Head White Corn Meal, for what it's worth). Everyone ended up eating it, probably to offset the spices elsewhere

Amarula

Amarula is made from fermented marula fruit, and mixed with cream and sugar. It's tasty drink on the rocks that is kinda like Baileys but a little fruitier. Normally you can find it in a good liquor store, but three local places were out of stock; fortunately Smith & Vine had it. As far as the toast, Ssebbaale taught us that you always wish for "pula," or rain, since the country is a pretty dry place.

Marula also stars in af classic nature film segment from the 70s:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D5E5TjkDvU0

 

Fruit salad with custard

A few things that make this fruit salad notable. First, Jessica brought this ingenious device that scoops out the good part of the pineapple in one spiral, leaving both the core and the shell behind. Genius! Second, it's topped with custard, which adds a nice creaminess and sweetness. And third, in addition to a general tropical fruit assortment (though we couldn't find guava and passion fruit), it calls for olives to add a briny, bitter contrast. That flavor wasn't for me, but I'm glad to have tried it. I also made the most of a non-ideal situation: the custard was just too thin, so I threw it in the ice cream machine, and a half hour later it was frozen custard!

Next we head across the Atlantic for Brazil, where we'll try to do this huge and diverse country culinary justice, with a little samba to celebrate Carnaval season.

~~~

Moragaraga wa dinama

Serves about 10 as a side dish, perhaps six as a main course

1 lb spaghetti

1 can peas and carrots

1/2 jar marinara sauce (like Prego)

1 medium onion, diced

1 green pepper, diced

3 plum tomatoes, insides scooped then diced

whatever meat appeals: we used 1 lb bratwurst, you could add shrimp too for instance

all manner of spices: in addition to the imported spice mixes we used various chili peppers, thyme, turmeric, etc. Use either garlic powder or fresh garlic.

1/4 lb shredded cheese

Method: Boil spaghetti until it's about two minutes away from done, drain and toss with a bit of oil. Preheat oven to about 375° and have a 9x13 casserole dish ready. Get two frying pans. In one cook the sausage or whatever meat you're using. In the other, start by sauteeing the onion until it starts to soften, then add the pepper, then the tomatoes, marinara sauce, and peas and carrots. As that simmers get creative with spices. About 15 minutes before dinner put everything in the casserole, mix around, and cover with cheese. Bake about 15 minutes, until the cheese melts.

Meal 22: Bosnia and Herzegovina

Upon stepping into the EuroMarket at 31st Street and 30th Road in Astoria — and residents of Queens wonder why we make fun of their street naming! — I was assaulted by the smell of smoke and meat, from bins labeled suho meso, which a quick search on my phone confirmed is Bosnian smoked, dried beef. I agonized for several minutes over whether to cram a kilo sack of Bosnian flour into my bag, and decided to go for it, since it was labeled at Type 400, which another search revealed is a soft pastry flour that would make for a better burek. A six-pack of Bosnian beer here, two bottles of Herzegovinan wine and some Croatian plum brandy there, ground meat, homemade clotted cream and sundry other ingredients later, I was laden like a pack mule for my three-train ride home.

We had quite a full table tonight. Many of our guests came from The Moth, Laura's workplace: Brandon brought his roommates Eric and Nicole, David brought his wife Anna (to whom he proposed in Bosnia!), and Aditi put in an appearance before finishing her internship. We also enjoyed the company of Jeff and Elly, as well as Mark who'd recently been to Bosnia's neighbor Macedonia and brought some potent liquor. Very present in absentia were Snezan and Neely, who helped a ton with the menu and shopping suggestions, but couldn't make it tonight.

Big thanks to everyone for schlepping over from Jersey, the Bronx, and Prospect Heights!

Ćevapi | Beef and lamb kabobs | Recipe

As far as I'm concerned, if you want to make a ground meat kebab (aka kefta), look no further than this recipe. The blend of two meats makes for rich flavor and lovely texture, the overnight wait lets the flavors permeate, and the soda water makes it fluffier or something. One modification I made, based on several sources I read, was to replace the salt and pepper with Vegeta, which seems to be the ubiquitous Balkan equivalent of Mrs. Dash.

Ajvar | Red pepper and eggplant sauce | Recipe

A delicious sauce/dip/spread of roasted pepper, eggplant, onion, and garlic, whose sweet and tang makes for a classic contrast with the meat. If you make this recipe, and I hope you do, two notes: it yields more than a half gallon so don't hesitate to shrink it if you don't need that much ajvar, and be generous with the roasting time since the extra time in the oven to get the veggies good and blistered will spare you at least that much when it comes to peeling the skins.

Kajmak | Clotted cream

This is apparently the result of slowly boiling unpasteurized milk, carefully collecting the cream that gently cooks and collects on the top, and then aging it. Several pages mentioned that homemade was far superior to storebought, so I was delighted to see a so-called homemade version at the store. (It was also double the price of the more commercial looking version so I'll believe them!) I'm not sure how close to authentic it was, but it was sure yummy, slightly tangy with a beautiful thickness.

Somun | Flatbread | Recipe

As you can see from the photo, this bread was not flat. I think I let it rise too long, and didn't start it on high enough heat. But whatever! It looks like an explosion from a manga in glutinous form, and it also tasted really good with the meat and spreads. Next time, if I'm starting the bread on the early side I'll try to remember to use a little less yeast.

Rakija and šljivovica | Brandies

Mark's rakija (grape brandy) and my slivovitz (plum brandy) made for several delicious rounds of shots. Živjeli!

Pita zeljanica | Spinach and feta pie | Recipe

One of the Ottoman Empire's enduring gifts to humanity is the borek, the great empanada of the sultans. A fun Balkan twist on this stuffed-dough genre is to spiral it up like a snail. In Bosnia, the term borek generally applies only to the meat-filled version, whereas the broader name is pita. I chose this version to add some greenery to the meal. I also made the dough from scratch, with that soft Bosnian flour, which was really smooth and rolled out super big. I thought it turned out really nicely: a crust with just enough flavor but neither too crispy or too chewy, and a filling that was fully cooked and tasty. Paired nicely with a big scoop of yogurt.

Tufahije | Stuffed baked apples | Recipe (in translation from Croatian)

Blessedly, the most distinctive Bosnian dessert doesn't involve pastry or bread. It's baked apples, but the technique is a bit of a twist: you boil the apples first in a light syrup, stuff the apples with egg whites and walnuts, bake them off, and simmer down and sweeten the syrup. Add a dollop of whipped cream, and you've got yourself a treat.

Thanks to our guests for their generous contributions to the World Food Program, which will make for a $220 donation, our biggest yet for a single meal. Next week we're heading 4,800 miles due south to Botswana, whose cuisine has at least one point in common: dry-preserved meat. More on that soon!