Was it when I found myself in the home of a village family, resolutely trying to flip a Lavash as it made its journey in the air from one hand to another? Or was it when, for the first time in my life, I threw a line to catch a trout and scaled, cut, cooked and ate it for dinner (with a lovely local wine)? Or could it have been when I was learning to cook in a woman’s home in the middle of nowhere, neither of us familiar with the language of the other but drawn together by a common love of food? Or was it when I learned, just a few days before leaving India, that a set of circumstances (including local unrest) would result in a ‘group’ culinary tour to Armenia turning into a culinary tour just for one person – me! Whatever it was…my trip to Armenia, with its unexpected twists and surprises, had adventure written all over it.
“Where is Armenia? Why do people go there – to do tourist?” quizzed the officer at Delhi airport as I explained its geography. How do you explain to an immigration official one’s love for solo travel and lesser-known and written about places, that Armenia was the world’s first country to adopt Christianity as its religion, that it was where Noah’s ark came to rest, that it is the oldest wine-producing country in the world, that it has a rich cultural history and that, most importantly, I was doing a trip to also learn about their food…and to cook it.
My nine-day adventure began in Yeravan with a whirlwind of activity that included visits to monuments, interjected with food and wine…sipping on the oldest wine I have ever drunk (1924) to catching the angel’s share of the legendary Ararat brandy before sitting down to a brandy tasting session at the Yeravan Brandy Company. The Armenians love to talk about Winston Churchill’s penchant for Armenian brandy and the secret of his long life, “Cuban cigars, Armenian brandy and no sport!” My trip to the local market was a fascinating dive into colours, textures and flavours of stuffed and dried fruits, fruit ‘mats’, cured meats and stringy local cheese – the market could well have been one big decorated Christmas tree!
From Yeravan, I journeyed deep south over the mountains where, nestled in a valley as my base, I cooked and ate and travelled and ate. I barbecued pork and veggies Armenian style, rolled winter and summer tolmas (dolmas), cooked a fish…each meal accompanied by Armenia’s well-known wines. During the day, we (the resort manager, a driver and I) would off-road in a Russian Hunter jeep across treacherous paths, exploring churches and monasteries (Armenia has 4000 of them) and navigating petroglyphs that told stories of civilisations 6500-8000 years old. We found a cold stream to dip our feet in, the fringe of a volcanic crater to have lunch at and just like children gone wild, helped ourselves to green walnuts off trees (I would carry back a delicious bottle of green walnut preserve). Somewhere up in a mountain, a lovely lady offered me a glass of spiced Matsun, a local yoghurt drink. And on one of the days, I visited the home of a village family to learn how to make Gata (a sweet pastry) and Lavash, the local bread which is on UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage List. I kneaded, I rolled, I tossed, I sprinkled and later sat with family to eat Gata and Lavash with freshly-sourced honey.
Making Lavash requires “great effort, coordination, experience, and special skills” and not only is it part of many a meal, but it also has its role in weddings where it is placed on the shoulders of newlyweds to ensure fertility and prosperity. As we wound our way back to Yeravan via a route that gave me a glimpse of the picturesque Lake Sevan, I was left in the home of an elderly lady to learn more cooking. Despite her knowing no English and me no Armenian, we had a blast in her warm kitchen while we cooked Armenian meatballs (the liquor in it adding that extra special flavour) and other side dishes that made for our dinner.
My last cooking lesson in Armenia was a special one with a master chef in the precincts of a beautiful carpet factory, surrounded by the most gorgeous of carpets. And it was befitting that the main dish of the evening was a tribute to Mount Ararat, whose stories I heard over many a cup of tea and glass of wine during my Armenian trip. Enduring memories and yes, I was a tourist of a different kind.
