Stories of survival: notes from a Bosnian kitchen

“But in the homes, not only of the Turks but also of the Serbs, nothing was changed. They lived, worked and amused themselves in the old way. Bread was still mixed in kneading troughs, coffee roasted on the hearth, clothes steamed in coppers and washed with soda which hurt the women’s fingers.” – Ivo Andric, The

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A Balkan relish

The first time I had ajvar (pronounced ayvar) it was dolloped on a plastic plate with a hunk of cold pork and white bread. I was in a Slovenian village at the local men’s club – essentially a community centre with a bar in it – where every Friday the village men came to play boules, drink Lasko

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