A Postcard from Bulgaria #2 - So, What's to Eat?

So, there’s not much out there about food in Bulgaria worth reading, so I thought I’d cobble together a few words and pictures, should any of you ever visit.

Food in Bulgaria is a strange mix – the heat and the setting feels distinctly Mediterranean – indeed the first glances at menus reveal kebabs, souvlaki, fresh salads, grilled meat and fish – but then you’ll also get a wide range of soups and stews. This reminds you with a jolt that you are in fact in the Balkans.

First up, the salads. Why do tomatoes always taste better in the sun? Shopska Salad, a Bulgarian version of ‘Greek’ salad, with tomatoes, onions, cucumber and mild, creamy sheeps’ cheese, is actually – gulp – nice. Very nice, in fact, I formed a slight addiction whilst over there. And I generally don’t eat salads on their own.

One thing that surprised me greatly was the seafood – the quality of the fish where we were based (the very bottom of the Black Sea coast) was excellent, and much better than our recent forays to Greece and the sadly depleted Med. The Bulgarian classic ‘Fish On A Roof Tile’ (translated) was an outstanding example of Bulgarian cuisine. Whole fish, usually Mackerel, laid in an earthenware, trough-shaped tile, topped with a rich, red-wine and shallot sauce, then slow baked. Like a fish Stifado, if you will. And possibly one of the most delicious things I have ever eaten. It’ll pop up here sometime soon as I try to recreate it in my own cack-handed way.

However, the real deal for me was lightly battered and quick-fried clams, mussels and squid – doused in lashings of salt and squeezed lemon. Lip tingingly good. A bowl of this in an open-air seafood place and the sun going down...that’s me. Kill me there and then, I’m done. All that was missing was a good, zingy Weisse to wash it down with. Clams and smoked, sweet bacon were often stirred into fried rice with tonnes of fennel and parley, to result in a kind of Balkan risotto. Wonderful.

As if that wasn’t enough, pork was often eaten chopped, fried in a huge pan with gherkins, mushrooms, peppers, and topped with smoked cheese. Then delivered to your table, spitting all over you but you don’t care because it’s a loaded skillet of pork and smoked cheese. I didn’t make a note of what this dish was called – if anyone knows, help me out!

I’m slightly obsessed with Gyro; but we found that Bulgarian gyro tends to have sour cream instead of tzatziki, and use chicken and pork instead of lamb. For me, although a great snack, the garlic and fennel suckerpunch of Greek tzatziki was missing, big time.

Sozopol is divided into two parts; new and old town. All the best restaurants are in the Old town; Check out Neptune for the best seafood (in fact, the best food) on the Island, although Rusalka runs a close second. The Windmill offers a great dining area and good, hearty soups and stews, and Tavern Chuchura for the sizzling pork/cheese skillet. Finally, El Greco (next to Rusalka) does an amazing creamy seafood pasta, and has wonderful fresh Anchovies.

....And as for Beer...well, forget it. Nothing at all except generic Bulgarian lager that goes down ok when you’re baking alive reading Dave Gorman’s America Unchained on the beach. Instead, opt for Bulgarian wine – it’s damn good and maybe slightly unappreciated. Mavrud is a really good red grape variety unique to Bulgaria (I think –I’m a beer obsessive, not wine!) and the Traminers and Chardonnays from nearby Pomorie were not only reasonably priced but delicious too.

A Postcard from Bulgaria # 1 - Crepes At Any Time

Our first morning in Sozopol, Bulgaria. An almighty thunderstorm woke us early, and there was nothing to do but lay in bed in the darkness and wait for the next inevitable blue flash to illuminate the room and jar us from our interrupted sleep.
When the storm moved upwards along the coast and left us with a blue sky again, the people of Sozopol emerged from their houses and opened their businesses. Newspaper stands are brought out onto freshly-swept and rapidly drying pavement, those early-morning cigarettes dangling from downturned mouths, the fruit stands stock up, the displays and menus for the tavernas placed in windows.
Then the crepe-lady appeared.
Her tiny crepe stall sat directly opposite our hotel. No seating, just a serving hatch straight onto the street. Upfront, two oiled crepe-pans smoked, and jars of preserves and toppings were placed on the sill, every colour you could imagine.
I took a seat on the balcony with a coffee and watched the first customer appear – a smartly-dressed man, on his way to work no doubt. A few words, then the show begins. The pan is oiled. A dollop of batter dropped onto the middle, and spread effortlessly out in ever-increasing circles until its paper-thin edge runs out. A little while, then with a deft flick of a pallet-knife the crepe is on its back; a new, crisp bullseye adorning the cooked side. Then, another movement of the long knife, the crepe is flipped onto a traditionally-painted dish to be spread with whatever topping the customer wanted. Cheese, ham, chocolate, sugar, honey, preserves... We opted for Chocolate or Fig preserve – the Fig preserve seemed to be very popular.
More customers arrived, some queuing patiently, other walking past, then back, and then ordering. It’s hard to pass a crepe stand without ordering, isn’t it? The stand opened before 8am, and often didn’t close until after 22.00. Everyone, it seems, loves crepes. The town didn’t seem awake until it had scoffed its morning pancake.

And yes, they tasted as good as they looked.