Imeruli khachapuri hails, not surprisingly, from the central region of Imereti and it’s essentially a flat bread stuffed with buttery Imeruli cheese curds and cooked on the stovetop. While adajruli’s dough is closer to that of pizza’s - with a satisfying crackle when you break off a piece - imeruli’s is soft, tender, and melts in your mouth.
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In February, I wrote Everything You Need to Know about Khachapuri for Culture magazine. I talked a little bit about its story and the culture that surrounds it (did you know the Georgians even have a Khachapuri Index to gauge inflation?) and listed a few of my favorite versions. I also promised you all a recipe for the Insta-famous Adjarian cheese boat, but deadlines and travel plans (aka Life) got in the way, and now here I am a month later finally addressing it.
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The power of food—to transcend boundaries, both geographical and cultural, and unify—has been the main idea behind Chesnok. By focusing on the recipes that have allowed my own family to bond through the years, I have created a space, a virtual communal table if you will, where I too can forge a connection with others in my community and around the globe. This week marks exactly one year since I’ve started to share a little of my life and my family’s food heritage with you all and I’ve been rewarded with a warm and welcoming embrace. To know that others believe in me has gone, and will continue to go, an incredibly long way towards this passion project of mine.
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In my last post I talked about summer’s generous bounty—how do you take full advantage of it?? It’s a bit tough, I have to admit—not only is there so much variety in produce available, but there’s also the sheer abundance of it too. At work, as a baker, I can’t seem to make enough pies, buckles, coffee cakes to keep up with all the peaches and nectarines that need to be made use of. Outside of work, I can’t seem to keep up with my impulse buying of heirloom eggplants, tomatoes and peppers at the farmer’s market. How can I resist when they’re all seeming to say, “Buy me before the season is over!!”
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My lifetime of familiarity with the country of Georgia came full circle last year when my mother and I decided to make the 14+ hour journey to its ancient and rustic capital, Tbilisi. We flew from New York City to Istanbul, where we spent a few sultry days before boarding our midnight flight to Tbilisi Airport. A quirky place, the airport only comes alive in the wee hours of the night and dies down again at the first rays of sun. As we made our final descent, at the unfamiliar hour of 4am I may add, I found myself looking down at the quiet, twinkling city. The same city that my parents and I, a little babe at that point, flew out of exactly 23 years ago, never to return to until now.
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