Three Love Stories. Of Pilaf

Ancient Greeks identified six types of love: agápe, éros, philía, philautia, storgē, and xenia — they believed that your feelings for your gods, your children, lovers, and friends are different and should have different names.

The same is true about your love story with a dish. If your mom cooks it for a special occasion it’s one thing; if your boyfriend surprises you with it on your third date — it’s a completely different story.

Most ethnic groups make dishes that are filling and cooked in big quantities, relatively cheaply. Pilaf is one of them. A pilaf of meat, rice, and vegetables is the crown jewel of Central Asian cuisine. In Uzbekistan it’s a “male dish,” that is, something men cook in big pots on open flames.
One of the very few perks of being born in the Soviet Union was culinary multiculturalism. Our borders were closed, so practically no one knew the flavors of Chinese, Mexican, French or Indian cuisine. But most people tasted or at least heard of Uzbek, Georgian, Armenian, Ukrainian, or Lithuanian dishes. It’s reciprocal, too. How many Belorussian or Kyrgyz dishes have my friends from outside the former Soviet Union eaten?

Pilaf, or as we call it, Plov, has appeared in my life on three very different occasions. And it has remained one of my favorite dishes ever since.

In Bryansk, my hometown, most people live in apartment buildings and often stay in the same flat for decades. My parents and most of their neighbors have been living at my childhood home for 40 years or so. And of course, most of them became, if not friends, then acquaintances. My Mom would bring our neighbors matzah every Passover, and they would surprise us with Easter cakes. People would exchange canned goods, and produce lovingly grown in their little gardens, invite each other over for birthdays, help with homework, and so on. My neighbors across the hall had lived in Kazakhstan and taught my Mom their pilaf recipe. It is a time-consuming dish to prepare, so my Mom only cooked it for special occasions and as picky as I was, I always craved it. Tender meat, well-defined rice, the sweetness of carrots and raisins’ if I were asked, pilaf would have made it to my top-5 “special occasion” dinners. But then my Dad stopped eating rice, and pilaf disappeared from our table completely.

That is, until the day I started college. I became a part of the newly founded school of Jewish studies. The founders were quite passionate about the project and looked for the most promising Jewish kids to join the first cohort. Remember my earlier sentiment, how “the friendship of Soviet peoples” was a myth and only truly showed itself in our food? Sometimes. Well, my post-Soviet Jewish studies cohort achieved it. There were 7 of us, 5 living in the same apartment. The girls represented Ukraine, Belarus, Moldova, Uzbekistan, and Russia. The boys were from different cities in Russia and Ukraine. . True multiculturalism! And when you study, party, eat and sleep together, you become family. And adopt each other’s parents, who come visit from your respective countries and cook for their hungry offspring the dishes they miss. My friend Faina’s Dad Sasha flew from Uzbekistan with a suitcase of “deconstructed” pilaf. Can you imagine: it’s a short flight, but still to think that someone would bring the right pot, and the right meat, spices, and rice on the airplane still makes my heart sing. The things our parents do for us. This was undoubtedly the most authentic pilaf I’ve had. You are supposed to eat it with your hands, and eat so much that you can’t move anymore. These dinners remain some of the all-time favorite memories of my turbulent college years.

At my dorm, friends and the pilaf chef Sasha himself!

Last, my love, my one true love, comes from a family of pilaf eaters. My husband’s Grandma lived in Uzbekistan during WWII where she learned to cook killer pilaf. When things between my boyfriend and me got serious, I struck up a friendship with his parents, who treated me to their signature pilaf. Maybe it was then I knew my man was the one! Now my friendship with my in-laws continues, and every time they come to visit, my father-in-law makes me very happy with a pilaf for one day, or two, or three.

Pilaf isn’t particularly hard to make, but it is a long cooking dish, perfect for a weekend afternoon. It’s a labor of love: in my case a combination of childhood love, college love, and love-love.

Uzbek Pilaf

The Magic Ingredients

• 2lb beef or lamb cubed
• 2lb white rice
• 2lb carrots
• 2–3 onions
• 300g vegetable oil
• 1–2 heads of garlic
• hot pepper
• 1–2 tbs cumin
• barberries, or raisins, or dried apricots
• salt

Basic stuff, really

The Method

• Rince the rice till clear, set aside. A note about rice. There is a special pilaf rice sort, which is hard to come by. Any regular (not pre-steamed) long or medium grain rice will do. You need a lot of it, so I just buy a bag of regular rice. Make sure it’s not round or risotto rice, we need it to be not sticky, but really grainy.
• Cut meat into even cubes, not very small. Authentic pilaf requires lamb and lamb fat, but it’s too much for me, so beef is my simplified method.
• Also, proper carrots are supposed to be really ripe and then cut into small sticks. Ain’t nobody got time for that! I buy precut carrots, and if I don’t have any, I just grate them. Here I had beautiful multicolored carrots. The trick is in proportions! You need an equal amount of beef, rice, and carrots — they are the main ingredients here.
• Cut onions into semi-rings. They will dissolve anyway, so nothing fancy.

Meat is being socially distanced here!

• Heat oil in a thick heavy pot. The proper one is called kazan, and looks something in between a cauldron and a wok, but I’ve made tasty pilaf in a regular non-stick pot or this cast-iron, enameled dish. It must have a tight lid though.
• Make sure your heat is all the way up, the oil must be really hot. Once again proper order requires onions first, but home cooking makes more sense if you start with the meat. Add your beef/lamb in batches, not to overcrowd the cooking surface. We want it really roasted, browned, not boiled. This nice color will later give flavor and a signature look to the whole dish.

Now we are talking!

• Don’t be afraid to really roast the meat, it will soften later. Three-four minutes on maximum heat.

Batch 1, two more to go

• Remove meat into a plate, don’t do anything with the juices, we’ll use them later.
• Repeat the process till you cook all the meat. Make sure the oil is heated through between every portion.
• I have to admit this is my least favorite part of pilaf making because the meat is spitting hot oil and liquid all over the place, and you can’t really cover it at this point. So wear an apron, and be careful.

• Add onions, and fry until golden, a few minutes really.

Golden goodness

• Add meat to the pot, reserving the juices on the plate for later.
• Mix onions & meat. Heat everything up properly.
• Reduce the heat to medium-high.

Carrot medley

• Add carrots to the pot.
• Heat everything without mixing for a few minutes.
• Mix carrots in, and fry for about 5–10 minutes, stirring carefully, not to break the carrots.

• When the carrots are soft, add the most important ingredient — cumin.

Any ground cumin will do, but you have to have it!

• That’s what gives pilaf the flavor. You can add your favorite spices: paprika, curcumin, pepper, but cumin is a must. Once it smells like cumin, you know pilaf is in the making!
• Add between 1 & 2 tablespoons. I also have a ready mix of spices for pilaf from a “Russian” store, you can get that as well. But I still added a good spoon of pure cumin. Mmmm.
• Cook for another 5 minutes.
• Meanwhile, boil the water.

• Add boiling water to the pot, about two figures over the meat mixture.
• Add reserved juices from the meat.
• Add your dried fruit. Barberry is a traditional “proper” addition, it is similar to goji berry, but any you like will do. You can buy barberries in a “Russian” store as well, next to the pilaf spices mixes.
• Bring to boil.
• Salt the broth. It needs to be a little bit too salty, the salt will be balanced once you add rice.

• Reduce the heat to low and simmer, uncovered for 45–90 minutes, till almost all the water evaporates and the oil is clear.
• This meat broth is called Zirvak and can be cooked in advance. I usually make the whole recipe in one go, but pilaf is tasty once just freshly made, and the process is long, so you can stop here, and finish the next day, or just before your guests arrive. And trust me, they will, once they hear of pilaf!

Every recipe has its own dynamic duo!

• Time to add your hot pepper (optional), but you almost don’t taste it & garlic
• You would use the whole head of garlic, so just carefully peel the upper layer. It is also used for decoration of the final product, feel free to use two.

• After you put your garlic & pepper on top of your meat, carefully put the rice in an even layer on top.
• Do NOT mix it with the meat or broth.
• Carefully straighten it above the surface of the meat.
• Bring up heat to maximum.

• Add more boiling water to the top very carefully as not to disturb the rice layer.
• Pilaf chefs recommend pouring the water over the spoon or ladle for that.

• Your goal is to bring the water to a rapid boil, for that you can close the lid for a minute or two.
• Open the lid, once the water evaporates from the surface, reduce the heat. The goal is not to burn the bottom.

• Once the water is under the rice surface, bang on it with a spoon, the sound should be dull.

• Make thin holes with a chopstick, or long stick. Evaporating water will sizzle in them, and bubble.
• Keep on lowering the heat till all the water runs out, and the holes don’t bubble and sizzle anymore.

• Taste the rice, it should be semi-cooked, but not crunchy. Rice is a whole different issue when it comes to pilaf, I don’t think one can easily find the right one here, and the goal is to have every grain covered in oil & broth, so I just proceed as is. If the rice is very crunchy, add a little bit more boiling water, and repeat the process. I’ve never had to do this though. Regular white rice cooks quickly, and I’m afraid to overcook it!

• Cover the pot with a plate that covers most of the rice, mine isn’t large enough but it works.
• Cover with a tight lid on top.
• Your heat should be at the lowest already, if it’s not make sure it’s at the lowest setting.
• Leave for 20–30 minutes
• Meanwhile, make a salad: cut onions, tomatoes, hot peppers in thin slices, season with oil and serve!

• Remove your pot from heat, open the lid, and the plate carefully, trying not to let the condensate get into the pilaf.
• Remove the garlic heads & pepper.
• Mix your rice & meat carefully.
• Serve on a big platter, Uzbek ones are beautiful, but any would do, decorate with garlic & pepper.
• Serve immediately.

It is not particularly hard once you make it a few times, it mostly cooks by itself, once you get through the first part, and then you need to keep guard of the water in the end, but also for only 10 minutes or so. It is honestly worth the hassle! You would impress those you love, and yourself.