Georgian food, in particular the photogenic Adjarian khachapuri, has been having quite a moment on the internet recently. You can hardly scroll through Instagram without happening upon a dark and sexy close-up of the boat-shaped bread and its precious cargo of melted cheese, butter, and silky, unctuous egg yolk. But back in 2012, I, like many Americans, was completely unaware of one of the most amazing culinary heritages in the world. As luck would have it, that was the year I was sent to Tbilisi on a 2-week site visit, my first work trip since I had moved to Cairo 8 months earlier. I was starting to feel homesick, in particular for the culinary comforts that were either impossible to find or somewhat taboo to consume in public, and I was just looking forward to the possibility of bacon at the hotel breakfast buffet. Little did I know just how good things were about to get.
When I handed my passport to the passport control officer in the Tbilisi airport, he checked my visa, stamped the necessary pages, and placed it on the counter – accompanied by a bottle of Georgian wine. That was merely a preview of the delicious trip I was about to have. Over the next two weeks, between meetings and presentations and weekend hikes through the beautiful countryside, I ate some of the most delicious food I’ve ever had in my life, continually pinching myself to make sure I wasn’t somehow asleep back in my Egyptian apartment. I ate savory grilled kebabs (including that of the porcine persuasion), countless permutations of the famous cheese bread khachapuri, crisp fresh salads and fruits, piquant fruit and meat stews bubbling in stone bowls, and giant, peppery meat dumplings called khinkali, which I described in my journal as “soup dumplings on steroids”.
Walnuts figured prominently in many Georgian dishes in ways that were completely new to my palate – walnut and garlic paste stuffed into thin rolls of eggplant, ground and mixed with spinach into pate, and pulverized into a thick, rich sauce for chicken and vegetables. This sauce, called bazha, is pure magic to make, transforming into something far beyond the amalgamation of ingredients of which it is comprised. After grinding the walnuts to a very fine paste and mixing with spices, they are stirred very slowly with liquid, transforming before your eyes into a fully cream-less sauce creamy enough to fool vegans.
One of the most traditional uses for bazha is as the sauce for poached turkey or chicken, but I’ve think it is most delicious on roasted vegetables, particularly hearty winter veg. Roasted brussels or green beans with bazha would be a great addition to your Thanksgiving dinner spread, and I couldn’t help myself from making a test batch earlier this week in preparation.
I cried on the plane back to Cairo and when my seatmate asked what was wrong, I told him I didn’t want to leave Georgia (which made him tear up as well). I am still dreaming of the day when I can return, and until then will be cooking as many Georgian dishes as I can.
Bazha
Ingredients
- 8-10 threads saffron
- 1 cup hot water
- 200g (1 1/2 cups) walnuts
- 1 large clove garlic, peeled and quartered
- 2 tsp hot or mild paprika
- 1.5 tsp kosher salt
- 3 tsp red wine vinegar
Directions
- Steep the saffron threads in the hot water 30 minutes.
- Put walnuts and garlic in a food processor and grind to a paste, 1-2 minutes.
- Place coriander, paprika, and salt in a bowl, add walnut paste and mix thoroughly.
- Add saffron water slowly; the mixture will lighten and become creamy. Add vinegar, and adjust salt to taste.
- Refrigerate for at least 3 hours or overnight.
Bazha will keep up to 2 weeks in the refrigerator.
