It’s the sweet, mellow smell of heating milk that hits you first. That and the warmth of a just stoked fire, bringing sharp relief from the chill in the rest of the house and a sign that the day has begun. It takes a second to locate the source of such welcome comforts until you
It’s with a heavy heart (read: heavy stomach) that I left Georgia this week. What an incredible, colourful country that one is. And I chose this pic because I think it epitomises the way Georgians cook and eat, reuse and repurpose so well. I took it in Tbilisi, the capital, where cooperative shops are a
I’ve been meaning to give Nora a proper intro for ages now so, finally, this is she. Hello Nora. Reasons given are: she’s a great cook, a firm farmhand and a good soul. She also has a toothless smile, a grip to cripple you and the ability to make kubdari (Georgian flatbreads stuffed with spiced beef or
Mornings in Svaneti, high up in the Georgian mountains, follow a slow rhythm. It’s a purposeful rhythm, but unhurried, methodical, each person with their job to do. Chabu chops wood, old Nora stokes the fire, Zaza brings in the eggs and a bucket of potatoes, the cows are milked, coffee made, the ducks and piglets
I’ve fallen in love with Georgian khinkali. Soft, juicy, wonton-like dumplings, with a thick, doughy outer layer encasing herby ground meat, potato or cheese. It seems the entire Georgian population share this obsession. You can eat khinkali everywhere. But go into the northern mountains that surround the villages of Kazbegi and Pasanauri where they say they taste best. Probably because
There is more to this picture than what immediately meets the eye, and a rough reminder that not all is glossy in rural life. I’ve spent much of this week in Svaneti, a secluded region in the mountains of northernmost Georgia – a place that is truly untouched by the tramples of modern life. Villages