Georgian specialty stands a good chance of becoming the Next Big Thing: the khachapuri.
Many regions have created their own versions of khachapuri, especially in Western Georgia. Let’s start with the classic, the Imeretian khachapuri, of Khachapuri Index fame. A round pie filled with cheese, this is the one cheese bread you’re guaranteed to find nearly everywhere in Georgia. I’ve had Imeretian khachapuri in places where the nearest store was several painful hours away, weather permitting. You can make it in a baker’s oven, a Soviet oven, an antique wood-fired stove, and even, I believe, in a frying pan on a stovetop.
The Mingrelian khachapuri is where decadence begins. This specialty from the Samegrelo region is similar to its Imeretian cousin, but topped with yet more cheese (almost alwayschkinti-kveli). Then there’s the Adjaran khachapuri, the ultimate artery-clogging dish. This open-faced version is topped with an egg and a generous chunk of butter—the more the better, some say—which you’re supposed to mix with the cheese so you can dip the crust in them. Batumians, the inhabitants of the region’s capital, are quite opinionated about what makes a good Adjaran khachapuri, and often frown upon imitations from Tbilisi. Everything is codified: the dough (bread dough; light and airy inside, crispy outside), the shape (oval with two pointy tips of dough, and thin crust at the bottom), the cheese-to-dough ratio (1:1). Not to mention the emphatic sayings typical of Georgia’s meridional culture: “After eating an Adjaran khachapuri, you must feel full yet want to devour another one.” Curiously, the cheese seems to be left to your discretion—Imeretian, sulguni, or a blend thereof.
This specialty is also claimed by another Georgian region, separatist Abkhazia. The belligerent Abkhaz decided that this was their national dish, but since they couldn’t conceivably keep the same name for it (what kind of would-be independent country names a dish after a region of their neighboring enemy?), they opted to reinforce their allegiance to Russia by calling itlodochka, or “little boat” in Russian.
There are more. Mountainous Svaneti is known for its impossibly rustic chvishtari, a pancake-like mix of Georgian polenta and cheese. Ossetia makes a version called khabizgini, filled with potatoes and cheese. Guria has its own Gurian khachapuri, a kind of calzone filled with cheese and chopped hard-boiled eggs. Abkhazia (them again) also makes achma, a kind of cheese lasagna. The penovani khachapuri is somewhat in a league of its own, as it doesn’t belong to any particular region; its name comes from pena (ფენა), meaning “layer,” due to its yeast-leavened puff pastry (like a croissant). At Restaurant Kazbek in Kiev, I even ate a khachapuri kebab—a skewer with cheese, cherry tomatoes, and basil, all wrapped in pastry.
Making a khachapuri at home doesn’t have to be daunting. I favor a soft dough made with yogurt and baking powder, which can be prepared in no time. You could also buy dough from your local pizza parlor. (In New York City at least; if you made the ill-advised choice to live elsewhere, your mileage may vary.) While I’ve tried to make my own Imeretian cheese andsulguni, a mixture of mozzarella and feta is commonly used outside of Georgia, even by Georgian immigrants.
Since khachapuri is eaten so often, it makes sense to have a recipe that can be prepared quickly. With a little bit of practice, you can have a delicious cheese bread made from scratch in about an hour.
Hurry before the chain pizza joints of the world get word of it and start ruining everything.
BY FLORIAN PINEL