A Note About Food, or "Non, non, non, non"

Tajiks, like most Asians, eat a lot of carbs. The national dish is a kind of oily rice pilaf, and bread is served with every meal. A host of other non-Atkins-friendly delicacies are also common at meals, snacktime, and tea time such as: sambusa (think samosa with lamb or savory pumpkin filling), fried dumplings (never caught their name, but they resemble a chewy hushpuppy), shakarov (a savory stale bread pudding served with mayonnaise), and endless tea biscuits. There are, of course, a number of what we would call "healthy" dishes in the Tajik diet. Vegetable salads are extremely common, fruit is often served in lieu of dessert or sugary snacks, and the bread is much less processed than most commercial bread in the States and other parts of the West.

Tajik women selling non at the bazor.

 Speaking of the bread, I really came to enjoy the taste of "non," as it's called in Tajikistan. I ate so much of it, in fact, that I began to buy my own loaf each day. I would smear it with Russian chocolate-hazelnut spread or dip it in the Tajik equivalent of fromage blanc flavoured with onions and mushrooms. On the way to the nonvon each morning I would sing Michel Polnareff's "La poupee qui fait non" with extra emphasis on the "non, non, non, non" line (see video below). I even took a loaf with me for the plane ride home. It is soft and has a delightfully chewy texture, reminiscent of a French baguette with less crunch. Families go out every morning--sometimes before each meal--to purchase fresh bread from the local bakery (nonvon), which is usually only a few minutes' walk from any given location. There are several varieties, of course, but I prefer the plain one. It comes in a round shape with a decorated depression in the middle and is about the size of a dinner plate.

The tarboozmobile.

Thank G-d I was there in the summer, as I was able to take advantage of the delicious produce Tajikistan has to offer. In the days of the Soviet Union, Tajikistan was known throughout the U.S.S.R. for having delicious melons, tomatoes, and various kinds of stone fruit. I feel I must remark on the tomatoes. They are succulent, juicy, full of flavor, and very inexpensive. As you can imagine, I ate a lot of them. I ate them fresh with salt and pepper, put them into stews and ratatouille, and I even made preserves with them. These are like no tomato I have ever tasted and reason enough to plan a return trip. Also worth trying are the melons, both the large white melons and the watermelon (tarbooz). There is a Tajik saying, "har rooz, tarbooz," which, with a bit of poetic licence I might translate as "watermelon - all day, uhr day." And it's true. I can't remember I day that my host grandmother didn't try to made me scarf down plate of juicy, succulent tarbooz flesh.

 Though I would prefer not to, I must say a few words about the national dish, plov (also, osh or oshi-polov). It is the very same "oily rice pilaf" I mentioned earlier. It always contains matchstick carrots, onions, and lamb. On special occasions or for guests, Tajiks may add a selection of other ingredients (raisins,
pistachios, toasted cumin powder, etc.). The thing I dislike about plov is that it is always swimming in oil, usually cottonseed. Tajiks seemed to find it incredulous that someone could be so put off by their national dish, but I was and remain so. To be fair, I did try a version made with buckwheat instead of rice that was truly delightful. There were hard-boiled eggs and parsley in it. It contained significantly less oil than the traditional version as well. That being said, it was hardly plov anymore.

Plov, osh, oshi-plov - whatever you
may choose to call it, it's not for me.

All in all, the traditional foods I ate in Tajikistan were quite tasty. I have yet to duplicate anything other than the buckwheat plov; however, I am trying. The country's recent political instability, to put it lightly, has not been conducive to producing frivolities like cookbooks, so I am working mostly from memory and the help of Uzbek and Kazakh cookbooks and food blogs. Another Tajik proverb: "Better is it to fail a hundred times than not to try at all."