Tag: Georgian

Gotta Khach Them All

If you’ve ever wanted to eat an entire loaf of buttered bread that’s smothered in melted cheese (and really, who hasn’t?), then khachapuri was made for you. So integral to Georgian culture that it is used as an economic indicator, known as the “khachapuri index,” its importance to the culture cannot be overstated.

Nearly every region of Georgia has its own distinct variation, but it’s the Adjarian khachapuri that’s captured the hearts, and stomachs, of intrepid eaters overseas. Almost like pizza without red sauce or cheese soup in a bread bowl, there’s no denying its universal appeal.

A Worldly Bread, Baked At Home

For years, this dish remained captive on my baking wish list. It seemed like the sort of project that called for an occasion, rather than an ordinary afternoon in the kitchen. The arrival of World Bread Day was the push I needed to make it happen. For this 21st edition, I knew exactly how to celebrate.

Whatever Floats Your Bread Boat

While Adjarian khachapuri may be the version most familiar to outsiders, it’s only one of many. Across Georgia and the surrounding Caucasus, the name encompasses a wonderfully varied collection of cheese-filled breads and pies, each with its own shape, filling, and regional identity. A few of the most distinctive include:

  • Adjarian (Acharuli): The iconic boat-shaped version from Adjara is filled with cheese and baked open-faced, then finished with a raw egg yolk and often an extra pat of butter. The egg and butter are stirred into the molten cheese before eating, with pieces of crust used for dipping.
  • Imeretian (Imeruli): The classic round, enclosed khachapuri from Imereti has a thin layer of cheese fully enclosed inside the dough and until golden. The filling traditionally uses Imeretian cheese, which is mild, tangy, and a bit crumbly.
  • Megrelian (Megruli): Similar to Imeretian khachapuri, this version adds cheese both inside and on top. The extra layer melts and browns in the oven, creating a especially cheesy, blistered crust.
  • Achma: Sometimes described as the Georgian answer to lasagna, this one is made from multiple thin layers of dough that are boiled, layered with cheese and butter, and baked until crisp and golden on top. Unlike the other versions, it isn’t really a stuffed bread so much as a layered cheese-and-dough casserole.
  • Gurian (Guruli): A crescent-shaped variation from Guria, traditionally filled with cheese and hard-boiled egg, it’s especially associated with Christmas and New Year’s celebrations.
  • Ossetian (Khabizgini): A round, enclosed pie filled with cheese and potato, heartier and more substantial than many other Georgian khachapuri, thanks to the extra spuds.

Not Milk?

Veganizing such a dairy-laden dish is really quite simple. A straightforward swap to plant-based milk and butter takes care of the dough without changing its essential character. To replicate the mild, salty, tangy, and slightly sour qualities of sulguni cheese, the one-two punch of mashed tofu and vegan mozzarella shreds does the trick. Plus, with the added benefit of soy protein, you can justify such an indulgence as a proper meal. At least, I like to think so.

Aquafaba takes care of the egg wash and then for the crowning jewel, I used my favorite trompe l’oeil of peeled yellow cherry tomatoes for those golden “yolks” on top. When all is said and done, you still get that gloriously gooey, cheesy, buttery bread that makes khachapuri so irresistible in the first place.

No Forks Required

Emerging from the oven puffed and deeply golden around the edges, cheese browned and bubbling in the center, it’s hot enough to scald and still impossible to let cool. I initially made the faux pas of cutting it into strips, unaware that the proper way to indulge was to dive in, hands first. Tear off a chunk of crust, drag it through all that molten goodness, and pay no mind to any greasy fingers. Khachapuri is a communal experience, where everyone can dig in together, reaching across the table to leave no corner untouched.

It’s Easy Being Cheesy

After dreaming about the pure savory decadence that is khachapuri for so long, I can unequivocally say that the reality is even better. No more difficult than your average batch of dinner rolls, such a delicacy is well within anyone’s grasp, should they be bold enough to bake it.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)2 Comments

Legume Love Affair

Stocked up on dry beans recently? Judging by the empty shelves anointed with “sold out” and “temporary shortage” placards replacing usual price tags, you’re certainly not alone. Always one step behind the trend, pickings were already slim by the time I got motivated to hit the grocery store. A few bedraggled sacks of dusty pinto beans looked the most promising, which isn’t saying much.

Nothing against the little legume, but it doesn’t inspire the same way that, say, chickpeas do. They’re not quick-cooking like lentils. They’re not sexy like fresh fava beans. They’re not my first choice, but by no fault of the bean itself. It’s a personal failing that I couldn’t see beyond their ruddy pink skins to embrace the creamy elegance within. Every bean is worthy of greatness, especially in such lean times, so it was still a prize to snatch up at that late hour.

Rather than taking the typical Texan approach, I cast an eye out to farther afield to Georgia for inspiration. No, not The Peach State, but the eastern republic nestled at the intersection of Europe and Asia. There, lobio (ლობიო), is an indispensable staple, marking the place at every dinner table throughout the year. A thick, rich stew made with pureed kidney beans, finely ground walnut paste, and the tangy smack of tart cherry juice, sour green plums, or unsweetened pomegranate juice gives it a distinctive (and addictive) taste. It’s worth pointing out that the word “lobio” only means “beans,” allowing ample room for variations on the theme. There are a number of varieties of this dish already in the wild, so one based on pinto beans is hardly a stretch.

Some prefer to keep their beans entirely whole, while other cooks roughly mash the tender legumes, and still more chose to puree the mixture to silken sufficiency.

Tkemali, a sharp, fruity sauce made from sour plums is the traditional topper most highly recommended here, but a drizzle of thick, syrupy pomegranate molasses, or even a bold balsamic reduction can provide a similarly satisfying contrast, cutting through the concentrated bean bonanza.

You can serve lobio as an easy one-pot entree, or a side with grilled kebabs, baked tofu, or some other simple meatless protein. Either way, don’t let a lack of any one bean stop you from firing up the stove; all legumes, big and small, are welcome here.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)8 Comments

Plum the Depths

Growing up in New England, with its characteristically rocky soil, temperamental weather, and a deeply shaded backyard, I envied those who could grow their own fruits. Even mundane produce selections like lemons or apples seemed like an exotic rarity when they could be pulled straight from the tree. To bemoan such abundance was unthinkable, but mild complaints became inevitably woven into every conversation with such lucky gardeners. Irrepressibly messy, dropping fruit and attracting all manner of vermin, the problem sounded like one of laziness to me. Just don’t let the precious harvest fall in the first place!

Oh, how naive I was.

Now that I have a plum tree in my own backyard, that tiny square plot of land has turned into a battlefield overnight. Blood-red splatters stain the concrete while sticky pits cling to the tall grasses. Swarms of flies delight in the detritus, although they’re just as happy to follow me inside at the slightest provocation. Short of putting a net across the entire property, catching this downpour of plums would be impossible. While this was a mild irritation in summers past, the situation is considerably more exasperating now that Luka patrols the grounds.

Pouncing on these treats as soon as they’re within reach, he’ll happily eat himself sick, and then just keep on eating once again. He devours them whole, pits and all; a choking hazard that gives me regular panic attacks. The growing season has only just begun and I’m already dreading peak plum production.

Out of fear and frustration, I viciously pruned back the offending branches, ripping off every last plum I could get my hands on. Almost all of the fruit was still immature; bright green, hard, and unbearably sour. Though unpleasant to eat out of hand, I nonetheless struggled to simply pitch them into the compost bin. Sure, they could be pickled, but then what do you do with them? A bit of Google sleuthing pulled up a new flavor sensation I had never encountered before, hailing from the Eurasian country of Georgia.

Tart, tangy, warmly spiced, and herbaceous, tkemali can be found in both red and green varieties, depending on the plums themselves, but is always an assertive staple for both cooking and seasoning. Some use it at the table like ketchup, but I found it best as a marinade and sauce for cooking. Slather some seitan in this vibrant elixir, saute, and serve alongside rice pilaf for an effortless meal. Stir into soups and stew to instantly brighten up the flavor, no matter how long it’s been simmering. My favorite use so far has been with simple roasted potatoes, baked until crisp, bursting with the brightness of this distinctive sour blend.

Desperate measures never tasted so good.

Yield: 3 Cups

Green Tkemali (Georgian Sour Plum Sauce)

Green Tkemali (Georgian Sour Plum Sauce)
5.0 Stars (1 Review)

Tart, tangy, warmly spiced, and herbaceous, tkemali can be used at the table like ketchup, but truly excels as a marinade and sauce for cooking. Slather some seitan in this vibrant elixir, saute, and serve alongside rice pilaf for an effortless meal.

Prep Time 30 minutes
Cook Time 2 hours 2 seconds
Total Time 2 hours 30 minutes 2 seconds

Ingredients

  • 2 Pounds Unripe Green Plums
  • 1 Whole Meyer Lemon, Seeded
  • 1/3 Cup Fresh Cilantro
  • 1/4 Cup Fresh Dill
  • 8 Cloves Garlic
  • 2 Teaspoon Ground Coriander
  • 1 Teaspoon Salt
  • 3/4 Teaspoon Black Pepper
  • 1/2 Teaspoon Crushed Red Pepper Flakes
  • 1/2 Teaspoon Ground Cumin

Instructions

  1. Place the plums in a large stock pot and cover with cold water. Set over medium heat on the stove, cover with a lid, and bring to a boil. Cook for just about a minute before turning off the heat and uncovering. Let sit until cool enough to handle; about 30 minutes. Drain out the water and prepare to get messy.
  2. The plums will be very soft, so simply use your hands to squeeze out the pits and stems, removing the skin as well if it comes off easily. Transfer the flesh to your blender, along with all of the remaining ingredients. (Yes, you’re blending that lemon, skin, pith, and all!) Puree until smooth.
  3. Pour the mixture back into the stock pot and set over low heat. Simmer gently for 45 – 60 minutes, until thickened to the consistency of loose ketchup. Cool completely before storing in glass jars in the fridge for up to 2 weeks.

Nutrition Information:

Yield:

3

Serving Size:

1
Amount Per Serving: Calories: 167Total Fat: 1gSaturated Fat: 0gTrans Fat: 0gUnsaturated Fat: 1gCholesterol: 0mgSodium: 709mgCarbohydrates: 41gFiber: 6gSugar: 31gProtein: 3g
© Hannah Kaminsky
Cuisine: Georgian / Category: Dips, Dressings, Sauces, Spreads, and Condiments

Hannah (BitterSweet)6 Comments