...Turkmenistan

Turkmenistan was not on my list of potential, culinary highlights. Actually, it wasn't even on my radar. I didn't know anything about it and yet on just a 3 day transit visa (all we could get), we sampled some fine food and this strange, closed country worked its way into our hearts. The fact we could drink alcohol again also helped.

So less than 3 days to get an idea of Turkmenistan's cuisine. Conveniently, our first stop was outside our hotel. A barbecue, a bar and some patio chairs on the pavement meant tasty shaslyk, steins of beer and the opportunity to people watch. And with my hair flowing free in the warm evening, it all felt very far from Iran. The shaslyk was lumps of mutton marinated in spices. The meat was tender and tasty (not words I would usually use to describe mutton) and was complimented by a salad of onion, parsley and dill.

High on our freedom (well, compared to Iran!), Berk beer and tasty food, we headed into the centre of Ashgabat where we gazed at white marble palaces, multicoloured fountains and futuristic looking bus stops. Magnificently hideous or hideously magnificent? I couldn't decide. Either way, I went to sleep having fallen in love with Ashgabat and woke with two things on my mind. A) Did I dream it all? B) What do Turkmen eat for breakfast?

I soon realised A) No I hadn't dreamt it all and B) Not what you'd normally eat for breakfast. We sat down on more rickety, plastic furniture in an overly-decorated restaurant hall and sullen soviet throwbacks served us fried pasta and mince with a fried egg. Breakfast.

A Turkmen breakfast

We left Ashgabat soon after our 'greasy fry-up' and headed far north, through the desert to an old Silk Road town on the Uzbek border. We found a hotel and a room which looked more like a room in a karaoke bar than a bedroom. We were brought bowls of chorba, a greasy broth with a massive lump of beef (gristle and all), dill and half a potato in and a huge pot of lemon and green tea, drunk from bowls. Russia's influence on the food, with the use of dill in particular, was a surprise to me. Yet drinking tea from small, china bowls  felt so 'eastern'.

Eating 'soup' in our karaoke bedroom

We spent the late afternoon wandering around spectacular mausoleums, mosques and minarets.   On our way back to the hotel we walked past some women busy with their tandir (outdoor oven). We 'salamed' them, hoping we might get a peak in the oven and sure enough, were beckoned over. Inside the tandir were samsa, small pasties of herbs with spinach, potato or cheese. We were invited in for tea and soon enough the table was covered in the fresh samsa, biscuits, bread, jam and sweets. Green tea was poured and we were given camel's milk warmed with tea.

Afternoon tea - Turkmen style

We probably outstayed our welcome but we were so happy to be in an environment where women dominated the conversation. Before leaving the table, the father performed the Amin. This is like giving thanks for the food and symbolises the end of a meal. Probably for the best as I was being force fed by the mother unlike Finn, who was enjoying taking a backseat after a month in patriarchal Iran!

Our last night in Turkmenistan involved being forced into slow dancing at a Turkmen wedding and drinking shots of port.  Job done.