Kyrgyz Cuisine

Food choices in Kyrgyzstan are quite plentiful, but not especially diverse. It closely resembles modern Turkish food for obvious reasons (the Turks migrated to Anatolia around the 11-12th century from the Central Asian region), but the time interval and isolated evolution of tastes causes some important distinctions.

Traditionally, the "Kyrgyz" people, like their virtual twins the Kazakhs, were mostly nomadic, but it's more helpful to think of them as glacially-mobile ranchers than as an on-the-go Winnebago society. They took up semi-permanent residence in large felt-covered huts called Yurts and stayed in one location for a long season. When the season changed, they setup a semi-permanent settlement somewhere else.

What this means for cuisine is that they had access primarily to their own livestock, but also to crops they could grow quickly in small plots, which grow naturally, or that they could trade for - Central Asia was, afterall, the nexus of the Silk Road.

It is interesting that, some 400 years after the Silk Road all-but unravelled, and 150 years after Russian conquest, the radically reconfigured (and categorically created) "Kyrgyz nation" of urbanites and sedentary shephards continues to define itself by these lingering, and at times imagined, "nomadic" traditions.

Food is one such instance.

Here are the primary dishes of Kyrgyz cuisine, which are universally simple to prepare, rich and savory, and widely available in other international cuisines, despite the local insistence of the distinctiveness of the "Kyrgyz" variant

Shashlyk

There is nothing fancy about Kyrgyz Shashlyk - it is meat on a stick, roasted over charcoal. Unlike the more colorful examples from elsewhere around the globe, Shashlyk (which is refers to the unikely-Kyrgyz version of a kebab) does not involve any vegetables. It is chunks of marinated meat (usually beef or Lamb) sometimes interspersed with chunks of fat. It is usually served with raw sliced onions, herbs (cilantro?), and vinegar. I still cannot get anyone to tell me what the difference is between Kyrgyz Shashlyk and Kazakh Shashlyk, but I've been assured it is "totally different." I remain skeptical. These can be sold at fancy restaurants, or just by solo Shashlykiyya's (shashlyk cookers) along the roadside. Around $1.50/skewer.

Pilaf

An absolute mainstay, in Kyrgyzstan it's called "Pilau" and is a very static creation meaning rice cooked in oil then in a broth with slices of lamb and usually cooked carrots. There might be some boiled onions involved. This stands in great contradiction to my understanding of Pilav from back home, which was essentially any assortment of meats and veggies that was then cooked with rice. Various different nationalities claim their own "style" of pilav, but mostly this is just about the different ingredients, which within each country, are unalterable. Asking for pilau in Kyrgyzstan without carrots, for example, is wildly absurd. You can get pilau at restaurants, but I've found it more likely to be served at family gatherings (apparently, you don't go Out to just have pilau).

Manti

To date, this seems to be the most beloved of all Kyrgyz food insofar as every Kyrgyz I've met has either asked if I've had Manti, or tried actively to get to me to eat it. Don't let me paint this the wrong way - Manti is Not the "Haggis of Kyrgyzstan" - it's just steamed dumplings. That doesn't sound so bad, right? Even better, they're filled with meat (again, the lamb/beef differentiation is harder than one migth think) and grilled onions. But here's the drawback - "good" Manti also requires the presence of an equal 1:1 ratio of meet and boild fat chunks. Worse yet, the boiled onions, which are good, have the exact same color and consistency of the fat, so when you bit into a big which something, you're never sure quite what you're getting. The general slimy-texture (sorry Dim Sum fans, it's true) of steamed dumplings does nothing to cut down on the queasy reaction I get from the liquid grease and solid fat stuffed inside. They're usually sold at restaurants in bunches of 5 (which is a lot of Manti), positioned surrounding a lake of ketchup.

Samsa

Like much of Kyrgyz cuisine, the Samsa has a very direct connection to its cousin, the Indian Samosa, with one important difference: no veggies. Basically, a Samsa is the same thing as a Manti, but it's exterior dough is shaped differently, and it is fried (sometimes baked) rather than steamed. On the plus side, this dramatically decreases the slime-factor, but you still have an onion-or-fat minefield lurking insidiously inside the yummy crust. These are sold on the sidewalks for the unbelievably low price of 20 som (50 cents) a piece.

Laghman

Thank goodness for Dungans! This small "nationality" within Kyrgyzstan (off-handedly called "Chinese Muslims") are recognized as being distinct from Kyrgyz, but this particular dish is ubiquitous at Kyrgyz restaurants throughout Bishkek. It is hand-rolled noodles (no idea if they are wheat- or egg-based) with Lamb, onions, and various herbs and spices. It can be cooked in a broth to make a sort of irregular noodle soup, or it can be stirfried. Either way is super-good, though as with much other Central Asian cuisine, both usually involve the addition of a touch more grease than is "necessary."

Sharma

One of the two quintessential Kyrgyz fast-food options, "Sharma" is a derivation of the Turko-Arabic Shawarma, meaning "turning," in reference to the style of cooking in which a big pile of meat is put on a verical pole and cooked outside-in as it rotates in front of a flame. The cooked, exterior, is cut off and served while the next layer cooks fresh. The name is somewhat ironic in Kyrgyzstan, where I have yet to see a working constant-rotation cooker. The final product includes shaved meat (usually chicken, sometimes beef), french fries, shredded lettuce, and slices of cucumber and tomatoe slathered in mayo and ketchup, then wrapped up in a paper-thin (and universally stale) burrito-like pancake. More Moo Sui than Tortilla. It's tasty, but shockingly un-filling for all its girth. Hard to argue with, though, as a $1.20 (50 som) lunch-on-the-run.

Gamburger

the primary alternative to Sharma, the "Gamburger" is a hard nut to nail down. It's trying-to-be-a-hambuger-bun suggests this might just be a case of lost in transliteration, but the shawarma-style beef interior is a long way from a burger patty. Add the same cucumbuer, tomato, mayo & ketchup, and suddenly the differentiation comes down to just the packaging. Bready-bun, or flimsy wrap. There are a few stands that sell "Hamburgers," which are the same thing as a gamburger, but with an actual ground-meat patty, but these remain few and generally more upscale (franchised chains vs. mom&pop stands). A little pricier at $1.30 a pop.

And that's pretty much it. There are a variety of salads (pick 2 uncooked veggies, add vinegar), and a few other national foods I've yet to try, but these are the big ones, and it must be said, make up the overwhelming majority of "Kyrgyz Cuisine."

As for diversity, Bishkek is decidedly the internationl hub. Indian, Chinese, Russian, and even a rare Korean, Italian, or "American" - burgers or pizza - are around if you look hard enough. I saw an ad for an "American/Mexican" restaurant, but the menu wasn't tempting enough to even give it a fair shake. Perhaps I'll change my mind as the summer wears on.

It should also be said the above is a decent look only a "City Kyrgyz" food. I don't have any idea what they eat in the villages and countryside, though I'm willing to bet it involves a fair amount of pilau, lamb-everything, and more gristle than I've consumed in my entire life.

In short, the food is much better than my Estonian/Serbian experience. People here eat real food, but it does tend to be real heavy, and most of it didn't spring forth from soil. I do actually know 2 ex-pats in Bishkek who are staying vegetarians while they're here, but so far I've only seen them eat french fries and carrots.

Apparently the "wealth" of veggies I see at the markets now (exclusively as follows: cucumbers, tomatoes, potatoes, peppers, onions, eggplants) declines to practically nothing during the winter months. According to one coleague, "it gets old eating the same canned meat and bread for 6 months."

Another recent admonishion from a guy traveling the countryside: "I haven't had anything to eat but Snickers for 4 days."

Cost: 23 som (50 cents) each.

Why wait?

Weber (on the lamb)