“Be gusht” in Dushanbe: Cooking and Eating Vegetarian in Tajikistan

Fall has finally fallen upon Dushanbe, bringing with it an eye-catching bounty of fruits, vegetables, beans and other fresh and flavorful ingredients. For many, “Central Asian cuisine” brings to mind one thing: meat. From Persian-style kebabs and savory stews to more esoteric delicacies like bone-marrow soup, these dishes certainly abound in Tajikistan; on a recent trip to the Pamirs, students even dined on fresh mountain goat. However, Tajikistan also sets a surprisingly diverse culinary table for vegetarians like myself, and no time of year is better to explore Tajikistan’s taste palette than autumn.

Meatless versions of local specialties are one easy adaptation for vegetarians, a change that my host mother appreciates as both healthful and economical as the price of quality meat in Tajikistan skyrockets. Flaky sambusa, savory stuffed pastries, and mantu, steamed dumplings, are deliciously filled with pumpkin, cabbage, or potatoes instead of the usual minced meat. Stuffed bell peppers and cabbage leaves can be made with a spiced mix of rice, lentils, and onions. Chickpeas, mung beans, lentils, and kidney beans are used frequently in hearty soups and in my favorite local dish, a stick-to-your-ribs bean stew called mushkichiri. During September and October, Central Asia’s famously flavorful melons, both watermelons and the rugby ball-shaped harbuza, can still be found in bazaars and at roadside stands alongside homegrown fall fruits like apples, pears, and pomegranates. Salads, from the ubiquitous Eurasian staple of chopped cucumbers and tomatoes to marinated cabbage and eggplant, find a place on nearly every dinner table.

Cooking remains an important component of both domestic daily life and family relationships in Tajik households, particularly among generations of women. Most Tajik families cook the way that American families did 50 or 60 years ago, before the advent of microwaves, Tupperware, and better living through chemistry. Bread is baked fresh daily. Meals are cooked slowly and usually take hours to prepare, from the first chop of carrots to the last pot of freshly brewed tea. Mothers, sisters, and daughters-in-law trek to Shohmansur, Dushanbe’s main produce bazaar, in the early hours each morning to pick up fresh eggs, yogurt, grapes, and cucumbers. Everyone, from grandma to the six-year-old sister to the happily fumbling American exchange student, has a role to play in bringing dinner to the table.
 

Throughout the last few weeks, as mornings become increasingly crisp and autumn-scented, my family has begun its preparations for winter, when access to fresh fruits and vegetables becomes more limited. Cucumbers and tomatoes are pickled in salty, garlicky brines. Apples, berries, and quince are boiled with sugar and honey in a deg in our leafy courtyard to make jams. My host mother’s preserving talents even reach far beyond Central Asian specialties to include sour Korean-style kimchi salads and spicy Balkan adjika pepper salsa. The dozens of jars and cans we have prepared will last us until the explosion of spring color in late March: apricots, cherries, spinach and herbs.
 

- Margaret Sullivan is studying Tajiki in Dushanbe, Tajikistan.