The First Taste of Rakia 2008

It was a special occasion today as I returned to Yambol town, I had just left my Scottish guests on their own at the farmhouse, they had rented it out before so they knew what to expect and the Bulgarian systems in place. But it was not for that reason, but for a very different reason that today was special. The time was nigh to test this season’s Rakia that had been made a month ago.

The Rakia had been sitting in the outhouse for a month now and now all the toxins had been rid with a pale colour that had transformed the Rakia from a crystal clear liquid into liquid gold!

As a jam jar was filled to bring it into the house kitchen, it looked very impressive as it sat on the sideboard. The next step was to check its’ specific gravity for the alcohol content. I had brought the alcoholometer back with me from Skalitsa and was ready to test it.

As the measuring tool settled it was clear that the Rakia was far to strong for everyday drinking, it read 50% proof. The next step was to bring it down to around 42% – 43%. To achieve this mineral water had to be added. It didn’t take too much water to get down and after a little stir it was re measured at 43%. Mission accomplished and now the actual tasting comes into the act.

There was already a beautiful cabbage salad and Ayran (buttermilk) waiting on the table, Baba had seen to that knowing that this was needed with the drink. And so it was poured into the small Rakia glasses. The first to try it was Galia, just a sip – it got a shake of the head, which meant yes in Bulgarian body language. That was a relief, but then she doesn’t really like Rakia and never likes to upset me, so there was no evidence to suggest the Rakia was good from this initial critic. Baba had previously been banned from drinking Rakia from her Grandson, who is a doctor, She is allowed rub in on her body, but it is not to be taken internally was the instruction. We had saved a little jar of some 70% proof Rakia on the day of distilling to do just that, but not this evening.

And so it cam to pass that the maker of the Rakia has now to taste his own product, the little swirl in the glass then a big nose and to scent, the alcohol vapours were very strong from this potent little number. Finally the sip with a little pause in the mouth before and letting it trickle down the back of my throat and in the basement of my stomach. It had a cutting edge all the way from the tonsils to the stomach, a piercing heat that never gave up as it left smoking trail all the way down. This was damped with some Ayran and a mouthful of cabbage that followed the imprints left by the Rakia on the lining of my internal organs.

The verdict was clear, not the smoothest Rakia I’ve made, perhaps a little longer in the barrel with the hanging secret ingredients and the mulberry wood to mature a little longer should make it smoother by Christmas. We certainly won’t be short of firewater this winter. Because that’s what it is right now, even with the lower alcohol content.

Kind And Generous Bulgarian Baba

Baba is of the old Bulgarian school and a very funny person with it. However, she does get stressed out at the smallest of things. A hole in a jumper is a major problem and she's on it with repairs even before you can take the jumper off! Just missing a phone call sends here into a panic worrying that the call was the utmost importance. She will spend the next 20 minutes trying to figure out who it was and what they want question everyone until the mystery caller that was missed is solved.

Now 85 years of age, she is full of aches and pains with the colder weather during night now upon us this mid November. Even with the aches, she never attempts to put the newly installed air-conditioning system on when she is at home on her own.

There are two reason for this, the main one is, she’d rather stay cold than use up the electric, she often goes to bed at 7:00 before the system was installed to save energy. The other reason is that she just can’t understand the air conditioning controls. Even though the on/off button is the biggest and the only one coloured pink. No matter how many times we try to teach her, it goes in one ear and out the other.

The other day she had us all in stitches with a typical incident. She said that lunchtime she had lost two teeth; one fell in her bean soup she was eating and other she accidentally ate. That was it! The story was a two liner. The funny thing was that we all couldn’t understand how on earth you could lose teeth eating soup! She repeated the story time and time again and it remained as funny each time as she herself had trouble telling it from the fits of giggling.

Baba always puts other people before herself, even if she was starving, she would make sure others ate before her. She sneaks out of the house without telling anyone sometimes and brings back basic food such as bread bought on her measly pension. She knows we usually shop everyday after work, but feels that she has to contribute something to the dinner table. That’s Baba; they just don’t make people like this anymore - even in Bulgaria. Looking after here is our duty in the family house, but it really is a case of her looking after us.

So what is the point of this particular blog?

Bulgaria is changing so fast that it has left many behind, Baba is one of those people. She just doesn’t know what has hit here with the changes over the last ten years. It is now an unfamiliar world she is living in, along with many others of her generation. It becomes even more unfamiliar to her as each day goes by, I see that very clearly.

Keep Your English Mouth Shut

A Skype message from Galia today, ‘I’ve broken my tooth can you bring my toothbrush and toothpaste to work when you pick me up at 5:00?’ Oh dear, it wasn’t bad enough that she had been ill with her kidneys for the past two weeks and picked up a cold at the weekend, now with the broken tooth a trilogy of illnesses have come about. And there’s me as fit as a fiddle feeling guilty that she has all the problems.

We met at 5:00 and it was straight off to the dentist after she had gingerly brushed here teeth before the short trip to the dentist. The tooth that had broken was a molar that had taken some battering with a boiled sweet at lunchtime.

The dentist was in the town centre as we parked up and made out way to the entrance. You would never know a dentist was there as the façade was just like another other town house in Yambol. The only give away was a very small plaque (quite funny seeing as it is a dentist sign) about the imposing grey painting metal gate. As we walk through the front garden there was a classical styled tap and sink built into the wall with a moulded bust at eye level and next to that an old vine that travelled up the wall and out of site, there were still black grapes hanging just out of arms reach, which it probably why they are still there.

You would still never know this was a dentist until the double glazed front door was opened, but it wasn’t from the sight of the narrow ceramic tiled hallway, it was the unmistakable smell of a dentist. Hard to describe this clinical and distinctive air of scent, but all who attend dentist will know.

Galia, who hadn’t said much throughout all this time, understandably sudden gave instructions. ‘Stay here!’ She was telling me to wait in the hallway whilst she went into the dentist’s reception room. I was under the impression she didn’t want me to see her in pain. There were other patients and partners there but all in the reception area with Galia, I was the only person out of the social limelight. I really felt like I should have been in the chatting away with everyone else.

I could hear things going on in the busy environment as I sat on a little lonely plastic chair there feeling like an outcast whilst reading a tattered, old, Bulgarian football magazine that was left on the table.

A full 30 minutes had elapses as people walked backwards an forwards past me giving greetings as they went past, as they do here. There was a little curiosity in their mannerisms as if to ask why I am sitting there and not in the surgery with my partner like everyone else is?

Galia finally came out with the dentist; I was quite surprised to see that the dentist was quite an elderly woman. Greeted them both as they approached and it fell upon a silence. I looked at Galia and asked if she was okay. Still there was no response and a silence came about again. It was almost a rushed movement as we walked out, no eye contact was made from Galia as she quickly said goodbye to the dentist and paced outside leaving me in her wake. It was only when we both got outside I finally realised what all the strange goings on where all about.

It was explained that I should have kept my mouth shut and not said anything at all in the dentist’s premises. Galia went on to explain that if they found out I was English they would charge her more money for the treatment. She was very worried indeed that now they may well up the price for the work they are due to do tomorrow. As is was, even at Bulgarian prices, the cost of the work needed is the equivalent of around one month of Galia's earnings (around 350 leva).

The fact that I speak Bulgarian all the time I am with Galia doesn’t come into play, it is not Bulgarian’s Bulgaria and anyone listening who know straight away that this is not a Bulgarian and therefore richer than them!

It is so true that because I am English or non-Bulgarian, they will charge you substantially more, even if you have a Bulgarian partner. If a Bulgarian has an English partner, they will think that that Bulgarian will also have come into lots of disposable income; this is how they think. This is how they see the English here and this is what we have to deal with on a day-to-day basis.

No one knows that we are both living here on the poverty line like most others and if we try to explain that they think we are lying. There is no way out of their thoughts and association of English equals Rich. Perhaps Galia is right; well I know she is, if I keep my mouth shut when out and about, this would be better for us all round.

Tikvanik - Bulgarian Pumkin Banitsa

Food, that’s all I seem to be blogging about at the moment, but you can’t expect anything else in the season where food is coming from all directions. Right now it prime time for pumpkins and walnuts, I won’t mention all the other goodies that are still pumped out in the Bulgarian kitchens and summer houses, I’ll need a good couple of days to cover it.

This weekend was a strange one, it was the first weekend we hadn’t had any guests in Skalitsa this year. Can you believe that? We were so used to catering for others that by the end of the weekend we were absolutely stuffed with home cooked food made from home produced ingredients.

The highlight of the weekend’s courses was the tikva (pumpkin) banitsa that Galia delicately made. Actually they are called tikvanik. It is such a simple dish but aren’t the favourite dishes just that? It was made this weekend by accident as stupid me being at the farmhouse on my own for a couple of days previous, forgot to make the sirene as I was too preoccupied with digging the land over in preparation for winter. This is really uncanny as tikvanik actually also means ‘fool’.

So it came to be that we had given to use three pumpkins that had been given to us the weekend before. We had the filo pastry the sunflower oil, sugar, walnuts and cinnamon. This was all we needed for the sweet banitsas that were about to be conjured up by this angel of a cook of mine.

No Skalitsa banitsas this weekend as I took a reluctant back step from the kitchen area. Galia doesn’t like me watching her cook, as she gets nervous. “It’s only curiosity!” I tell her, ‘Not a judgement.” It doesn’t make any difference me telling her though as I walk with my tail between my legs back in the living room and carry on blogging, but my mind is on what is happening in the kitchen.

To be quite honest I know exactly how these tikvanik are made, as well as having seen Galia and other friends here making them each year during the pumpkin season, I’ve even made them successfully myself on a number of occasions. Despite this, it is the love of being involved in the process as well as watching that is a passion. Before in England it was me who did all the cooking, I’ve never had a woman who could cook before and I was obviously still trying to come to terms with that.

It was a near disaster today though, as we both got distracted outside with neighbour talk. We forgot the banitsas were in the oven and it was a couple of Linford Christies up the flight of stair and into the kitchen when we twigged. We had just saved them in time as we put cloth over the well-cooked tikvanik to cool down and keep the moisture in.

We knew this was going to happen right from the moment of the conception of the idea of making these melt-in-the-mouth tikvanik. In fact is was more a case of melt-the-mouth as 10 minutes later we both had burnt tongues!

I suppose you are expecting the recipe to follow now. Well it isn’t! For tikvanik to taste as good as they do, you need to make and eat them in Bulgaria. And if you are in Bulgaria you wouldn’t need the recipe anyway as any Bulgarian worth their salt knows how to make them anyway.