REVIEW 

by Máté Földi

Last summer, deep in the mountains of Tusheti, I had a bite of heaven. Laboring to the top of a hill 400 meters above the village of Danklo, we were greeted by a scene quite commonplace in this enchanted part of Georgia. Stone towers and houses of a vintage centuries old, worn down in a battle of the ages against the elements, void of any visible inhabitants covered the peak. We slalomed our way through the buildings, praying that the pagan saints of the land did not enlist an overzealous Caucasus Shepherd dog for protection. Turning the corner, we came upon a small restaurant.

With no more than twenty places, their menu was simple: a small variety of salads, cheese, soup, and Khinkali. I had only been in Georgia for three-weeks, but I’d heard the legends about Tusheti’s lamb Khinkali; I promptly ordered ten. The wait was unusually long, though I suppose that’s an acceptable to price to pay at an altitude of 2700 meters in the middle of nowhere for some organic mountain cuisine. They finally arrived: steaming hot with their aroma wafting into my nostrils, the handmade dough riddled with rough but delicate bumps showcasing the craftwomanship behind this ancient delicacy. It was here that I was shown the delightful combination of fresh-crushed black pepper on Khinkali, and so I garnished my dumplings healthily as I waited for their to cool down to a temperature that my taste buds would survive. That meal re-defined my relationship with Georgian cuisine.

It was a proper ‘foodgasm’ that would drive me mad upon my return to Tbilisi. I searched and searched for lamb Khinkali even half as good; all I found were poor man’s imitations: either a total disaster or, if the lamb was of an acceptable quality, the dough was awful and rubbery. Alas, I soon abandoned my search for a taste of that Tushetian heaven. These disappointments coupled with my discovery of the exquisite, if comparatively second-rate because they were lamb-less, delights of Bernard and Pasanauri, led to a reluctant resignation. I came agonisingly close once at a VIP dinner on the eve of the 2017 IBF. Their lamb-less khinkali was a whisker away from eclipsing my experience in Danklo, undermined by one frustrating, albeit unlucky, flaw: the meat was ever so slightly over-cooked — an error unnoticeable to a mere mortal but heart-breaking for a seasoned and desperate addict like myself. Six months and hundreds of Khinkali later, my attempts to recapture that hot August day were no closer. If Gatsby believed in the green light, borne back ceaselessly into the past in his attempts to recreate it, I had accepted that it was but an orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. Zakhar Zakharich changed that.

After hearing so much about their fabled lamb Khinkali, I decided to face my fears of yet more disappointment and head over to ZZ to see if they really were top. Deciding against pulling a Princess Leia and telling the waitress that they were my only hope, in a mixture of Georgian and Russian (atti baranyi Khinkali pazhaluysta) I ordered ten lamb Khinkali before she could even put the menu down. Raising an eyebrow and giving me an impressed, “damn, homeboy ain’t screwin’ around” look, she departed to the kitchen. The countdown had begun.

Ten minutes later with eyes closed praying to the powers that be, I took that first bite. As the juices exploded in my mouth showering my taste buds, I was instantly taken back to that restaurant in Tusheti. Made of that same handmade dough riddled with rough but delicate bumps, the meat was succulent and delectable, retaining that distinct lamb flavor through a perfect balance of spices that prevented it from being too overpowering. The juices were worthy of being a soup by themselves and the fresh-crushed black pepper consummated it all. It was pure culinary excellence.

At long last a weight was lifted off my shoulder. I could rest easy now, safe in the knowledge that I had captured that green light and would not have to wait until late April for the snow to melt and trek back up to Danklo to do so.

WHERE: 3 Right Bank, Mshrali Bridge, Tbilisi

TEL: +995 322 14 42 00

OPEN: 8 AM — 11 PM

Photo source: culinarybackstreets.com