Behold the rare Bulgarian green cheese of Cherni Vit, rumored to be the only cheese in the Balkans with a moldy rind. There’s a joke that Bulgaria has only two cheeses: white and yellow. There are varieties of sirene and kashkaval, but the same basic principles remain more or less the same. This green cheese was once made by an old couple near Cherni Vit, but the practice disappeared until the mayor of the little village decided to start making the cheese again “in order to preserve it.” His daughter told me that her own family members don’t like the green cheese, because moldy-rinded cheeses are associated with poverty. They’re not at all the cultural and technical art form revered in Western European countries, but rather something people eat only out of necessity. I’m still ruminating on this. Cultural relativism and such. Needless to say, the cheese is delicious. Made from Teteven sheep’s milk, aged for several months in Cherni Vit’s cool humidity. Dry and crumbly, rich and buttery. An unforgettable cheese with an unforgettable story.
Today was a day filled with joy. After months of researching and thinking about and talking about and literally dreaming about Karakachan sheep, today I got to meet a small flock of 400 or so new best friends and try their cheese. It was like nothing I’ve ever tasted (and I’ve tasted a lot of cheese). Karakachans are a rare heritage breed of sheep that used to graze across the region of what is now Bulgaria, Greece, and Turkey. According to some accounts (this I learned from my new friend Alex @coupage42), the Socialist government did not want Karakachan shepherds crossing the border into Greece to graze their sheep, as Greece was not part of the bloc and no exchange or travel was allowed between the two countries. But the sheep needed to eat, and they knew how to find food, so they would wander across the border anyway, and the shepherds would follow. To solve this problem of migration, the government systematically slaughtered hundreds of thousands of animals and replaced them with hybrid cows in an effort to industrialize the countryside. But some shepherds were able to hide some of their herd, and the sheep are starting to make a comeback. If you are still reading let this be a reminder that borders are human-made constructs and these sheep are here to tell you they are pointless and stupid. 😊
Yustina from the foothills of the Rhodopes, Yustina from the vineyard at @villa_yustina_winery during a wonderful tour and tasting 🍷, the 4th century Red Church on the outskirts of town, and a girl with her grapes on our drive in. 🍇 A full day of fieldwork, flavors, sights, and stories as tourist/ethnographer.
On my second day in Plovdiv, I visited a food festival in the village of Kurtovo Konare with a fellow Fulbrighter to see the sights and savor the tastes. The festival centered around the harvest of peppers and tomatoes, of which there are varieties specific to this town of 2600 people, as well as the practice of making lyutenitsa, a preserve that helps make them last through the winter. Because I was one of four or so festival attendees who were not from the village (and was therefore seen as unbiased), I was wrangled into judging for the lyutentisa contest and helped choose this year’s Queen of Lyutenitsa! In the end we chose Jar 3, with the brightest red color, a perfectly balanced sweetness, no hint of bitterness, and a smooth, fine texture. I’m sure there were plenty of people there who were as confused as I was about having me as a judge but sampling ten jars of lyutenitsa in rapid succession was a dream and the festival was an absolute joy. I’ll treasure the jars I took home all winter.
