I first tasted shashlik in Dushanbe, Tajikistan during a senior year study tour of the former Soviet Union. We ate at an outdoor café in the cool of the evening. The skewers of lamb cooked slowly over smoldering charcoal on a long, narrow grill called a mangal. The grill resembled an elongated metal shoebox on stilts. The lamb did not come in direct contact with a metal grill as on American barbecues, but was essentially spit roasted. The skewered lamb was served on flatbread embedded with shallots, and then sprinkled with thinly sliced scallions. The non served a plate as it was flat in the center and puffed around the edges. The beverage of choice was vodka served by the bottle. It had a foil cap you peeled off and discarded. The idea of drinking less than a bottle never occurred to anyone, a cap therefore was superfluous. Continue reading






Is it an appetizer? A dessert? Should I walk barefoot through it? Eat it? Rub it into my skin? Or is Burrata a language that can only be whispered into your lover’s ear? At least, there is no difficulty recognizing that Burrata is love at first bite. 

