Review: Dialog Cafe

Located off of Ferhadija, 100 meters east of the Eternal Flame, on the Trg Oslobođenja, Dialog Cafe spills out of a small indoor space onto wide terraces full of large umbrellas and coffee drinkers. Dialog is particularly appealing in these warm summer months, offering both a perfect vantage point for people-watching Ferhadija's passer-bys, as well as much-needed shade from those oh-too-hot Sarajevo days (and nights). The coffee, to be honest, is nothing to write home about. I usually order a long coffee with milk (or a large macchiato, to be precise) and though it is, overall, enjoyable, the froth dissipates quickly, the taste of the coffee is quite bland and the whole concoction is often served too hot. However, Dialog is not about the coffee. It is about being close enough to the action of Ferhadija to stop any acquaintances that might walk by and to invite them over for coffee. I have spent many an afternoon at Dialog with a succession of friends that I meet in this central location. Dialog is also about internet. That's right, it has one of the most reliable wireless internet connections in the centre for those moments when you just need to sit down with your laptop and a coffee and get some emailing done. Lastly (and perhaps most importantly), Dialog is a breath of fresh air because of its lack of pretention. When you are surrounded in this area by cafes, such as Vatra, that cater to Sarajevo's well-dressed, too-hot-for-everyone, high-heeled or designer-jeaned, expensive-cell-phoned, snot-nosed elites, Dialog is an oasis. It is always welcoming, laid-back and full of nice people, who just like to chat and eat ice cream. Plus, the average coffee with milk is half a convertible mark cheaper than anywhere in the nearby vicinity. All in all, these bonuses are why Dialog has kept me as a customer for such a long-time. Here's to you, Dialog!

Migrant labour: starting a discussion, and signs of hope

And now the long-awaited (sorry for the absence!) conclusion to my last post.
While we were protesting in front of the Slovenian embassy, the sun came out, and started to burn all of us. Our unwavering-ness before the embassy however was not in vain. After a couple of hours, the deputy ambassador emerged and asked a representative from the workers to come in—our request for negotiation had succeeded. Esad, one of the workers from Cazin, Nermina and Andrej went in to meet with the deputy ambassador, strolling past the line of security officers to the main doors of the embassy. The rest of us waited. And waited. And waited. At first, the protesters divided up into smaller groups of those who were already acquainted with each other. All of the members of Dosta Sarajevo sat together, students from Slovenia in another corner, workers under some trees, Faculty of Political Sciences people in another group. After an hour however, these initial bounded groups disappeared and everyone was stretched out all over the lawns on Bembaša. Workers were sharing their frustrations, with echoes of general frustration from other participants as well—mostly addressing the difficulties people had to make ends meet.
With an average salary country-wide of about 250-350 euros per month, and prices on par with those of many western European countries, Bosnia and Herzegovina is a country where poverty is rampant. This poverty remains largely invisible, however, because of the widespread nature of microcrediting in the post-war economy (people often take out micro-loans to buy groceries, at hugely inflated interest rates) and the artificial maintenance of the cash economy through diasporan cash inflow. I have still, to date, not met a single person in B&H who does not rely on some form of outside family support (whether arriving regularly or sporadically). Due to both pre-war gasterbeiter programs and war-time/post-war refugee flight, almost every Bosnian living inside the state today, has at least one or two relatives living outside of the state, mostly in the countries of Western Europe, Canada, the U.S. and Australia. These relatives, naturally, send cash (usually often) to their family, send gifts, and provide local economies with liquidity. This quite precarious situation, coupled with wide-spread visa programs in the EU has made migrant labour very attractive to many young people inside of B&H. In Slovenia alone, there is said to be about 47 000 migrant workers from B&H, working mostly physical jobs, such as construction, warehousing, transport etc.
Just when we thought that nothing was to come out of the meeting with the Slovenian deputy ambassaddor, Esad, Nermina and Andrej emerged and made a quick statement to the press. They had succeeded in convincing the Slovenian embassy in Sarajevo to act as a mediator in the labour dispute, and represent the workers form Cazin in talks with the Slovenian government, with the hope of eventually filing a suit against their former employer. The workers now have 2 months (until September 19th) to file their suit. This was not an ideal conclusion, but an excellent beginning. And in case the Slovenian government does not act upon the workers demands in the next few months, we will be prepared—more protests!!!

I work like a horse, live like a mouse and eat like a dog

The title of this blog post is how Esad, a Bosnian migrant worker who formerly worked in Slovenia, described his labour time in that country. Esad, though only 30, both speaks and looks much older than his years. Physical toil has changed him, but he has not lost the fire to seek both a better life in his own country and what he is owed by the foreign employers who used him for labour, without pay for thirteen months, and then revoked his visa. Esad and about 20 other workers from the northwestern city of Cazin, were offered to a chance to get a foreign work visa in Slovenia by a contractor for work on construction sites. They were brought to Slovenia, lived in 'barracks' of about 120 sq. m per 60 workers, sometimes were only given 5 euros/week for food expenses, worked 12-24 hour days without rest, and, worst of all, did not get their monthly pay cheques - most of the workers never got a pay cheque at all. When the workers began to complain, their employer revoked their work visa (Slovenian work visas bind you to one employer, if you lose your job, you lose your visa), and they had to return to Bosnia and Herzegovina. The employer in question is a man named Zoran Perković, and he owes the workers somewhere between 50000 and 60000 euros. As the workers were returned to B&H when their visas were revoked, they were unable to file charges against their Slovenian employer who was protected by the B&H workers' citizenship - they were unable to re-enter the Schengen zone with their passports, in order to file charges in Slovenia. Over the past 6 months, the migrant workers, along with a group of wonderful tireless faculty and students from the University of Ljubljana (organized under the banner of 'Invisible Workers of the World,' and a group of faculty from the University of Sarajevo's Faculty of Political Sciences (mostly the energetic and fantastic Prof. Nermina Mujagić) have been actively seeking solutions to their political and economic problems via protests, hunger strikes, academic and media engagements. On June 28th, we held a public forum for the B&H public about the problem of migrant workers at the Faculty of Political Sciences here in Sarajevo. In the morning, the workers spoke about their own experiences living as labourers in Slovenia. In the afternoon, a more academic approach allowed different speakers to lay out some analytic/conceptual problems about migrant labour generally, and labourer and economic problems in the former Yugoslav region generally. (Yours truly spoke about changing discourses on labour rights in the European Union from the 50s to today). Today, July 19th, there was an important protest held for these workers in Sarajevo. The protest involved a march through the whole center of the city. We started off at the Office of the High Representative, near the Grbavica neighbourhood. Media turnout was great - all the major tv stations and the newspapers sent representatives, and apparently we got a 3-4 minute segment on the evening news of most of these stations, which is fantastic. From the Office of the High Representative we marched to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and ended up camped out at the Slovenian Embassy in the Bembaša area. At each stop, workers took the megaphone/microphone and spoke to the audience about their experiences, frustrations and desires for change.
On the picture just below is Dževad, an extraordinary man with whom i talked for almost two hours today. He told me that the worst part of his experience was coming home to his parents and having to ask them for money. "I did not want to experience that. You go abroad to work so that you can come home with something for everyone, chocolates for your mom, you say to your dad, enjoy this and give him a hundred euros. But I did not want this." The police of Sarajevo canton provided escorts for us the whole way, and stopped traffic all over the city for us. They did this without permission of their higher authorities, but because they wanted to support the workers' protest.

At the ministry of foreign affairs, diplomats drove by, walked by but no one stopped to take a look or listen.
This story changes for the better though upon arrival at the Slovenian embassy. With a group of really eager young people from 'Dosta' Sarajevo, a show was arranged for the embassy. There was music playing, speeches that were given, call and answer moments with the public, and a lot of cheering and applauses. Though many many security officials were guarding the embassy, the atmosphere was relaxed, and many of the workers, especially Esad were speaking, through a microphone directly to the embassy officials though, through closed windows. Alternating between speeches and music, such as Bob Marley and Dubioza Kolektiv, it was apparent that nobody was planning on leaving the scene of the protest. And the resolution? Well, you will have to wait until tomorrow...since I am very tired. But let's just say that it was a great end of the day, and hopefully a good start to some larger discussions on the question of workers' rights...

Seen around

An amazing graffiti tribute to a Bosnian delicacy? Burek!


For all of those eagerly awaiting Sarajevo's Asian Week, the first installment will be posted on Monday!

Review: Buregdžinica Sać, Sarajevo

In a little lane in the middle of the Čaršija, across from the famous ćevabdžinica Mrkva, and buregdžinica Bosna, is a tiny little door leading downstairs into pita heaven. Pita is the generic category word for any pastries made with a thin phyllo-like dough, with fillings like meat and onions, potatoes, cheese, cheese and spinach, zucchini and cheese and so forth. "Pita" literally translates as "pie" (or anything with a filling) It is also a word which conjures up for many people from the former Yugoslavia, but especially from Bosnia and Herzegovina, childhood memories of that sweet and savoury baking dough scent emanating from your mother's (or especially your grandmother's) kitchen as you played outside, and anxiously awaited the mad dash to the dining table when the pita was ready. Pita is eaten at any time of day, it is a breakfast, lunch, dinner and anytime food. You eat it at home, you eat it when you are out. It is cheap and it is delicious. It is also super greasy for the most part. Walking around Sarajevo, you will see, at all times of day, people sitting down to eat pita, or walking around with giant pieces of pita, wrapped in a piece of paper, in their hands. As my dear friend Peter Lippman said a few years ago, when describing this food of choice: "The main cuisine in Sarajevo is meat, bread, and paper. You see guys hanging out on the street with food in their hands. There is some meat, wrapped in some bread, and that's wrapped in paper. They eat it leaning over, so that the juice of the meat doesn't drip on their track suits. The paper is the most nutritious part." Each pita type has its own name: pita with potatoes is krompiruša, pita with spinach and cheese is called zeljanica, pita with just cheese is sirnica, and the most popular type is burek, made with a spicy meat filling. If the word 'burek' sounds familiar, it is because yes, indeed, the burek is a cousin of the Turkish börek, albeit with different ingredients, and sometimes different manners of preparation. Perhaps you might call burek and börek long-distance cousins:)
Yesterday morning, my visting anthropologist friend and I went for breakfast to Buregdžinica Sać, my favourite buregdžinica in Sarajevo's center mainly because my friend said that: "my stay in Sarajevo will only be deemed fulfilling if I get my hands on some krompiruša." Some strong words about a potato pastry. However, once you arrive at Buregdžinica Sać, this mad desire for pita makes complete sense. The first thing to note about Sać is that the ladies who work there are amazing - really attentive, quick service, and they always remember you, even if you were there more than a year ago. (The latter was not the case for us, since, of course, my husband and I make a visit probably every 2 weeks or so). They will always strike up a conversation, share details of their day with you, and they are truly, sincerely and personally disappointed if you do not finish every morsel on your plate. Last time I brought guests to Sać, all the pita was just too much, but our dear waitress mentioned at least 3 times "I am really sad that you did not finish your pita. Was it any good? I just can't believe how poorly you ate." Only here can someone equate the quantity of food you eat with your moral worth - this is something instilled by our mothers from childhood on...But on to the pita. We both ordered krompiruša, one with and one without pavlaka. Pavlaka is basically sour cream, but it is runnier, smoother and tastier. And the pavlaka at Sać is some of the tastiest in the city.
All of the pita at Buregdžinica Sać is prepared in one particular way. And it is precisely this method of preparation which lends the restaurant both its name and the pita its supreme taste.
A sać is a essentially a metal dish (sometimes it is made of copper, sometimes it is tin, sometimes steel) with a metal lid. You place the ingredients or dish you want to prepare/bake (not just pita, but you can put meat, seafood, potatoes etc in the sać as well) in the sać. Then, in your stone oven (because, of course, all of us have stone ovens) you create a fire and let it burn down until there are only ashes remaining. It is then the sać (with its lid) that is buried in these ashes. The dish inside slow cooks from the heat of the ashes alone. There is no direct heat or flame applied. This way of cooking rocks, the food is really tasty, with every flavour presenting itself as more intense than you can imagine. Buregdžinica Sać, with its combination of preparation, as well as its fresh ingredients, is the best in the pita world of the Čaršija.
It should be mentioned that the pastry at Sać is probably the most impressive part of the pita dishes: it is super flaky and quite crispy, especially on the bottom of the pita, which is just slightly blackened from sticking to the bottom of the sać pan. The bottom, because of the sticking action has a little bit of a sweet taste. The potatoes inside the krompiruša are not overcooked, and have the right amount of pepper to add zest, but not to overpower the taste of delicious locally-grown potatoes. Potatoes in Bosnia generally are delicious, they are usually a golden yellow colour, firm, not much water in them, and truly can be said to "have a taste of their own," as opposed to many of the potatoes you get in North America or Western Europe. On a Saturday morning, Buregdžinica Sać was already crowded, with people waiting for the coveted few outside seats (Sać can probably only sit about 8-10 people inside, and that many outside). I see one tour guide in particular who often makes a point of bringing his tour groups for lunch here. Avoid these tour groups at all costs. If you want your pita immediately, without much commotion surrounding you, choose odd hours of the day to eat, such as early morning or early to mid afternoon. Do not come here at around 11 am, you won't get a seat. Overall, Sać gets more than two thumbs up. In fact, I still assert it is the best pita place in the entire city. However there is one small catch. If you want to eat pita at this buregdžinica, prepare to be tortured non-stop while you eat with some of the most low-quality Turkish pop music you can imagine blasting from two tiny speakers above the door. Luckily for us, the repertoire on a slow-going and hot Saturday morning was some mid 80s Sezen Aksu.

Afterthought: BBC gets in on Ekrem fame, also Durkheim

BBC writes:

"Ekrem Jevric would agree with Durkheim completely, if he had ever read him. Jevric's song describes disillusionment with life in the big city. He sings that he only goes back and forth from home to work among the giant skyscrapers of New York, the city where battalions of women walk the street, but have forgotten their children."

Sorry...what? No really, WHAT?

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-10665071

A Stuffed Pepper Extravaganza

By popular request, I am adding my recipe for stuffed peppers (punjene or filovane paprike). I had two friends over for dinner last night, Abu Banda and another dear anthropologist who is visiting Bosnia (though she lived here previously during a research-stay). She had mentioned that she really wanted to have stuffed peppers while she was here, and yesterday, I went to Markale, bought the necessary ingredients and surprised her with this dish. Be forewarned: this is not a 'traditional' recipe (who said this blog was about 'traditional' food choices?) for stuffed peppers, but my personal variation on 2 recipes in particular. Stuffed peppers are common across the whole south-east European area, and come in hundreds or thousands of variation. This recipe combines the best of a more 'coastal' style of preparation (from my mother Dunja - this style uses plenty of tomatoes and garlic and cooks the peppers in a rich tomato sauce) and a 'continental' style (from my husband's grandmother Hafiza - I take the meat filling combination and filling preparation from this style, though here the peppers are usually, once stuffed, baked in an oven to evoke the sweetness of the pepper flesh). So let's get down to it. This recipe also features step-by-step photos to aid you in the pepper preparation. Note: for this recipe, you should try and find peppers that are not that large (approximately the size of a tennis ball) and whose skin is not too thick. For this recipe you will need:

10-11 green peppers

For the filling:
2-3 small onions
2 medium carrots
1 tablespoon of oil
3/4 teaspoon of sweet paprika
1 teaspoon of garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon of basil/oregano combination
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 kg of lean ground veal
2-3 handfuls of uncooked rice

For the sauce:
1 medium tomato
500-600 g of pureed strained tomatoes (not tomato paste)
1 tablespoon of garlic powder
1-2 teaspoons of basil/oregano
1 heaping tablespoon of sugar
salt and pepper to taste

Grate 2-3 small onions and 2 medium sized carrots into a pot. Add one tablespoon of oil and lightly saute the onions and carrots. As the onions and carrots are saute-ing, add the salt and pepper, sweet paprika, garlic powder and basil/oregano. As soon as the onions are slightly clear, add the veal and mix so that all of the ingredients are well integrated. Saute not only until the veal is done, but until the whole mixture is quite dry (all the water released by the meat has evaporated). Remove the pot from the flame and put aside. Add about 2-3 handfuls of the uncooked rice into the meat and mix thoroughly. Cover the pot with a lid and leave to the side. You should have something that approximately looks like this:


It is important to stir the rice in raw and leave it in the warm meat while you prepare the rest of the steps. The rice, just through the steam inside the pot will begin to soften up, and by the time you are ready to cook the peppers, will be about halfway done.
Once you have placed the meat mixture aside, take your peppers, wash them well and hollow the inside, removing the core and seeds.


Stuff the hollow peppers with the meat mixture. You should take care not to fill the peppers all the way up to the top with the meat because the rice will expand as it will cook, and you don't want your peppers to overflow.


Take the tomato and cut it into the same number of pieces as you have number of peppers. Place a piece of the tomato into each pepper, on top of the meat mixture.


Place the pureed tomato into a pot big enough to hold all of your peppers. You can puree and strain your own tomatoes, however that is too much work. So I usually purchase the canned tomatoes (with no seasonings) at the store - it is perfectly fine, and just as delicious. The puree is quite thick, so I usually add about 2-3 cups of water to thin it out. With just the tomato sauce, place the pot on a medium-high flame and bring to a boil after you have added 1 tablespoon of garlic powder, 1-2 teaspoons of basil and oregano, 1 heaping tablespoon of sugar, salt and pepper to taste. Cook for about 10 minutes, until the flavours come together. Feel free to experiment with the spices-it really is a guessing and testing process to get the flavour you want, especially with the sugar. Depending on how sour the tomatoes you have are, you may want to add more or less sugar, but the sugar is quite necessary to make the sauce less bitter, and more smooth. Once the sauce is done, turn the stove down to a low-medium flame and arrange the peppers in the pot. (Here I used two pots, because I didn't have just one large pot, but you can do it just in one.)


Cook until the rice is fully done, and the pepper skin is nice and soft, almost to the point of breaking, about 15-20 minutes. Serve with mashed potatoes, or with just bread (somun as we did below, or another nice flatbread).


If you like, top with a dollop of delicious sour cream. See the picture way at the top of the blog for the sour cream version. After this very delicious dinner, I prepared a small summertime dessert (this was a special occasion!) - a little dollop of ice-cold rice pudding or sutlija and fresh nectarine slices. But more on rice pudding at another time.

the 'gospoda' of dolce and gabbana

Today's blog posting is going to be a little bit of a cop-out blog post (but I promise to make up for that with another food-related blog post later on today), that celebrates the complete ridiculousness of the Balkan region and its diaspora. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Balkan music scene, be forewarned: this ridiculous singer from Montenegro who has lived in New York City since the 1980s may confuse you. You may not even know what to make of this post. Nonetheless, I should preface this with the warning that this man is very serious in his intent. (Even though 'some of us' may not take him seriously, although others do...curious.) People listen to his music in the U.S., in Bosnia and Hercegovina, Montenegro, Serbia and Croatia. He has been the big hit of the summer. So, here it goes.
Ekrem Jevrić, also known as 'Gospoda' (this best translates to 'the Man,' but in a kind of aristocratic sense) was born in the eastern part of what is now Montenegro, in the town of Plav. The region of Gusinje-Plav has often been stereotyped by people from the former Yugoslavia, especially those in Bosnia and Hercegovina, as a region best known for its sketchy criminal dealings and fanatic Montenegrin patriotism. Gusinje-Plav's most famous export to Bosnia and Herzgovina is a politician named Fahrudin Radončić, owner of the Dnevni Avaz newspaper, leader of the SBB party, and über-gangster. New York City is home to one of the largest Gusinje-Plav diasporas in the world. My husband and I have had quite a few superintendents in New York apartments from the region-and have had wonderful and definitely memorable experiences with them and their friends (who drop by many times a day). Jevrić moved to NYC in 1988 with his wife, Igbala. Last year, he released his first 'single' called 'Kuća pos'o,' which translates to '[From] Home [to] work,' a song about his experiences living in New York City. Here is the video clip from You Tube, and please laugh all you want at this amazing homemade video that has reached almost 4 million hits since it was released. I can't tell if his popularity is due to his ridiculousness or because people actually like his crazy voice, the 'lyrics' to the song, his 'adventures' around New York City, or his gangster appearance. Also note the very very confused-looking girl in the random New York cafe where Ekrem decided to film his video.



Ekrem's hit count on youtube today: 4,005,239 (in just four months)

Anyway, this blog post was mainly inspired by the fact that today I was sitting in my fourth-floor apartment checking email, when all of a sudden a giant tricked-out Mercedes SUV passed by under my window belting Jevrić's hit 'Kuća pos'o,' at maximum volume. I was struck with sudden urge to see what Ekrem was up to recently and I typed his name into my google bar when, lo and behold, the biggest surprise I've had in a while struck. Yes indeed, my dear readers, Ekrem Jevrić is featured in the 2011 Dolce and Gabbana Men's Collection advertisements. Yes, I did indeed just write that. Ekrem Jevrić, Gospoda, is in the 2011 Dolce and Gabbana ads. He is the tailor. Ej, pa fakat se širi i naš seljakluk po cijelom svijetu. SELJAKLUK! Enjoy these turbo-photos.

coffee, kahva, kafa, kava...

A dear advisor of mine, who is a wonderful Ottoman historian, teaches two standard undergraduate Ottoman history classes every year: a class on the 'Early Ottoman Empire' and a class on the 'Late Ottoman Empire.' The chronological dividing line for the classes is neither before and after Suleyman the Great's reign (a common dividing line), nor some major political event, nor a war waged, nor a specific date, or century. Rather what distinguishes, for him, the 'late' Ottoman empire from the 'early' Ottoman empire is the arrival of the eponymous institution of the coffeehouse into the imperial space. He insists that the urban coffeehouse permanently shaped the way that people thought of themselves, their social world and their political world. Ottoman writings of the period talk about a 'new age' being introduced at that time, with writers often talking about major shifts in life practices. Some writers embraced and promoted these changes, others resisted. Urban space was characterized by these tensions and these struggles that dealt with everything from broad political and religious ideologies to the most minute of daily things - such as the consumption of coffee - which were also actually struggles about the constitutional 'things' of the Ottoman order. A whole new spectrum of social practices was introduced in this period, including not only coffee drinking but new forms of coffeehouse entertainment such as shadow puppetry, tobacco smoking, storytelling, poetry reading and public music performance. Most importantly, the coffeehouse drew a line between elites/notables and the rest of the population who frequented them. Nothing similar to the coffeehouse existed before the 16th century - not even tea houses represented the kind of 'forum for discussion' and dissent that coffeehouses eventually became. I quote my dear history professor: "The coffeehouse is not a 'cute' subject. It is part of that large scale change that allowed for public engagement...and for mobilization of the public if a rebellion unfolds."
Coffee drinking began to be quite widespread as early as the 1400s. According to legend, Sufis in Ethiopia and Yemen observed goats munching on some beans, an the goats were quite happy. Because these Sufis needed to summon a lot of energy often for day-long or night-long prayer rituals and meditations, they began intaking coffee. Again, this is another legend :) Whether it is true or not, is not really the point. In around 1551 or so, 2 Syrian merchants hit upon the idea and they opened the first coffeehouse. By the 1590s, there was not a city, small or large, without a few or a few dozen coffeehouses. By the 1590s, Istanbul had over a thousand coffeehouses. By the 1690s in London, there were more than 600 coffeehouses that were licensed as coffeehouses (many that had names sounding vaguely shall we say 'oriental').
As I mentioned previously, all over the 'European' and 'Ottoman' space, coffee drinking was a controversial and a political act. The central role of the coffeehouse even today is not to be underestimated. Each coffee has its own style and flavour, with a different cast of characters performing certain forms of behaviour. Though (perhaps unfortunately) people no longer plan revolutions and rebellions inside of coffeehouses, they still spend a significant portion of their time inside of them, life events happen inside as do virulent discussions, sweet moments of love and the most banal of conversations. Coffee itself is still the site of political appropriation and antagonism. Though the tone has considerably died down now (as opposed to during and right after the recent war), national(ist) 'take-overs' of coffee in Bosnia are still prevalent. I was told one very interesting story about coffee in particular by two separate friends on two separate occasions. Apparently, right after the war, one cafe on 'Tito's Street' in Sarajevo listed three different options for ordering coffee. You could order 'kahva,' 'kafa' or 'kava.' (The Dayton Menu, I believe.) Each different coffee was meant to cater to a different 'national' group. So 'kahva' was meant to cater to a Bosniak sector--and it was served in a traditional manner on a copper tray with a copper coffee pot (a džezva) and a fildžan, a glass of water, several sugar cubes and a piece of rahat lokum (Turkish delight). The 'kafa' was meant to be a 'Serb variant,' and it was served on a tray as well, but in a regular coffee cup and saucer, with some sugar on the side and a glass of water. Lastly the 'Croat' 'kava' was served in a red and white 'Franck' coffee cup, with sugar in a package on the side, no tray and the option of frothed milk being added to the coffee (this was seen as a more 'Viennese' variant). In essence however, all of the coffee inside these cups, with their various styles of presentation was the same, prepared in the same manner. And the price was the same for all three. And what is the lesson of this blog posting? Well firstly, food is serious business and it too can be a great weapon in both political struggle and manipulation. But at the end of the day, you can't hide the fact the coffee is both culturally central to everyone's lives as well as made of the 'same stuff' no matter where you go.

Announcing: a week of Sarajevo's Asian food!

Sometimes we all need a little respite for that yummy meaty balkan food. Sometimes, however, that respite is hard to find. Luckily, we can prowl the streets of Sarajevo for some new culinary treats. And so, 'sahan for two' announces its first restaurant review week. Coming soon: Sarajevo's Asian restaurants! Reviews will include Pasta Zen, that little Chinese restaurant in Marindvor, and the Indian restaurant in Čengić vila, amongst others we have yet to discover. Also to be profiled is the new spice store in the eastern part of Baščaršija, for all of those wanting to make delicacies in their own kitchen, as well as articles on where to get special spices and ingredients throughout the city. 'Sahan for two' is pleased to welcome a guest columnist this week who will be aiding both in the taste-testing and the review-writing: Abu Banda. Abu Banda is not only a culinary expert, but also an anthropology graduate student doing research in Bosnia. And to kick off this restaurant/store review, I am including a simple recipe for larb, a Thai dish, you can easily make in the comfort of your home here. It is, of course, a modified recipe which uses ingredients available here (no Thai basil, I am afraid), but delicious and refreshing for a hot summer day. I've also included some photos from Abu Banda's, my husband's and my recent afternoon of larb.

1 small onion, thinly sliced

2-3 limes

1/2 kg ground pork or (as I use) ground turkey (a delicious substitute)

1/2 tablespoon ground dried chili pepper, or 3 heaping tablespoons of dried chili past

4-5 tablespoons fish sauce

2 green onions, sliced (mladi luk from the market works just fine)

3 sprigs of mint, optional

1 head of lettuce to serve

Squeeze juice from 1/3 of the lime on to the ground turkey. Mix well and let it marinade for just a couple of minutes until you are ready to cook it. Heat up a pan on high until it is very hot. Add two tablespoons of water and then immediately add your marinated turkey and stir. The turkey will stick to the pan at first, but then the juice will come out and the meat will loosen from the bottom. Keep stirring until the pork is well done. Let the turkey cool down to room temperature. Put the turkey in a bowl a large mixing bowl that will hold all the ingredients. Add fish sauce, green onion, onion, the rest of the lime juice, ground chili pepper and mint. Mix well and taste. It should be quite hot. You should be able to taste tartness from the lime juice and the fish sauce. If you need to add more fish sauce or lime juice, don't be afraid. Getting the flavor balance right is a trial and error process.
Put the mixed ingredients in a serving bowl and serve with lettuce leaves.

Ajvar for beginners

While the casual observer may note that 'fall is not actually here yet,' quite a few grandmothers are already preparing for a fall ritual that can only be described as crazy or delicious or sickening. Or torturous. No really. A nightmare. For all those involved, especially the 'lucky' children picked to be 'assistants' to the wise old cook. The late summer early fall red pepper harvest in the countries of the former Yugoslavia means only one thing: ajvar. For those not in the know, ajvar (from the Turkish word havyar, meaning caviar - but more on this later) is a delicious sometimes sweet, sometimes spicy roasted red pepper spread that everyone enjoys, but particularly with grilled meat, or smoked meat, or as one of the assorted meze on the table which can often include sheep cheese, hard cheese, olives and the like. Ajvar-making is not only a fall ritual throughout the region, but often a cause for great debate. Who makes the best ajvar? Traditionally, the answer is the Macedonians.

When I was buying home-made ajvar (which I found to be delicious) at a market in Prijedor this summer, a woman walked up to me and scoffed. She continued "my mother is Macedonian, I never buy this stuff. I only make it at home." Leave it to us to think that your genetic makeup makes you predestined for something :) But, certainly, people take their ajvar seriously. From handpicking the red peppers that go into it, roasting in a particular way on a particular fire, and - very importantly - making sure there is just the right quantity and quality of garlic that gives the spread its bite. Legend has it that, when caviar production declined severely in the Adriatic region in the 19th century, urban elites all over the region demanded a substitute. In particular, it was very important that the substitute have the colour and aesthetics of red salted roe. And so ajvar was born. I'm not sure how exactly how and why people thought that roasted red pepper spread resembled red caviar, but hey, I never believe most Balkan legends anyway.
For those who are interested in making this dish at home - and, believe me, once you start, the whole process is quite addictive, here is a simple but quite delicious recipe. The key, I think, is really the appropriate roasting of the peppers, getting them roasted enough (but not burnt) to emphasize the pepper skin's sweetness.


My version of ajvar

* 8-12 fresh red peppers (mild or medium-hot, to taste)
* 4 medium-size eggplants
* 1/2 to 3/4 cup olive oil
* 1 large onion, minced
* 1/2 of a head of garlic, at least 6 cloves, chopped
* 1 to 2 tablespoons lemon juice (or 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar)
* salt and pepper to taste
* Chopped fresh parsley for garnish

Roast the peppers and eggplants (ideally) over charcoal or a gas flame, or bake them in a preheated 475 F oven, until the skin is blistered and quite darkened. Place the roasted vegetables in a paper bag and let them steam in their own heat for 10 minutes. Then let the peppers cool. If you want to do the roasting a day ahead, you can put the peppers into Ziploc bags and into the freezer - the skin peels much in a much easier fashion if you freeze them first. Peel off and discard the burnt skin along with the stems and seeds. Mash the peppers and eggplant pulp together to form a rough texture, with a fork or food processor.
Heat 3 tablespoons of oil in a large skillet and saute the onion until very soft. Add garlic and cook for 2 more minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the pepper-eggplant pulp, mixing well. Slowly drizzle the remaining oil into the mixture, stirring constantly to incorporate all of the oil, while heating over a very low flame. Add lemon juice or vinegar, and salt and pepper, to taste. Transfer to a serving bowl and mix in fresh parsley.

Of course, if you are lazy (as people often are), and don't have access to good Macedonian ajvari, here are some generic brand recommendations, all of which you can regularly find on the shelves here in Sarajevo. My favourite generic canned ajvar is the hot one from Podravka (don't even try the mild, it's horrible). The hot is not actually that hot. In second place, is the mild or hot versions from Vitaminka. Solid. Lastly, Vegy - well, not really because it's particularly tasty, but it's an ambitious and homegrown Bosnian company that is starting out with food production, and doing quite well. Support local products!

fruit for two

One of the best things about a bosnian spring and summer is the sheer abundance of fruit and vegetables that fill all of the market stands. The produce is almost all grown locally. Some of it comes from Bosnia's north and northwest (the Posavina and Krajina regions) and from central Bosnia. The cherries in the photo above are the first cherries of this year from a small town in Central Bosnia. But most of the delicious and sweetest possible fruits come from the Herzegovina region - a region both hot and dry where fruit ripens on the vine or tree. The Mediterranean climate in Herzegovina is extremely different from the rest of the country, and ideal for almost any agricultural venture. Almost all of the fruits in Sarajevo come from Herzegovina, and the city is dependent on transports of fresh produce every day. At Markale in Sarajevo, (where we buy our food everyday) virtually all the produce come from Herzegovina. If the name 'Markale' sounds familiar to you, it is probably because of the infamous massacre during the siege of Sarajevo which occurred at the market on February 5th, 1994. 68 people were killed and over 150 wounded by the artillery attacks from the surrounding hills. Today at Markale, a simple memorial stands on the back wall of the marketplace with the names of those who died printed. It is a simple memorial, but one which, during the everyday act of buying food, constantly reminds of of those who lost their lives.



In the photo of Markale, you can see the memorial wall in the background - the simple red strip.

what is sahan?

The word 'sahan' comes from the Turkish word for plate or shallow dish. In Bosnia, a 'sahan' is a moment of culinary bliss. Walk into a 'nacionalni restoran' anywhere in Bosnia (but especially in central Bosnia), and you will want nothing but sahan - a warm dish that presents a panoply of delightful dolmas (stuffed vegetables) and usually various kinds of stewed meats. Commonly you will find onions (sogan), spinach and peppers stuffed with meet, alongside with some stewed 'šiš čevap.' This blog is not only a tribute to the principle of the 'sahan' - in variety there is both seduction and delight - but its embodiment in the very life and cuisine of the Balkan region. We hope you enjoy the variety that will follow. Oh, and for the best sahan in Sarajevo, try 'Preporod' restaurant. It is one of the most well-hidden restaurants in the city, with an unbelievably non-descript entrance. But it's the best. Address: Branilaca Sarajeva 30 (on the ground floor of the Preporod building).