Cuisine:
The food here has probably been one of the biggest adjustments that I have had to make. This is because I am accustomed to cooking for myself, and I do not have access to kitchen facilities here -- I try not to think of what I will do for three months, not being able to cook -- and am therefore dependent on the cooking of others.
The food that I have been eating, both at the student cafeteria where my organization pays for my meals and elsewhere, is stolid and uncompromisingly bland. There is little spice or sauce. Meat predominates, especially pork. One person told me that an apt saying concerning their countrymen was that, 'Serbians won't eat anything that doesn't have ears.' This seems to be mostly true; when I asked one of my colleagues what they thought Serbian cuisine was, she responded, 'Meat. And cabbage. Stuffed with meat.'
I have never been the biggest fan of pork, but it is possibly the most-used meat in Serbia. There is lamb, but many of the people I've talked with speak almost dismissively of it, saying that, 'Muslims eat lamb,' as if consuming pork somehow re-entrenches identity. So, while I prefer lamb (and chicken) to pork, they may be harder to obtain, particularly as I cannot cook for myself. (A reasonable explanation for the abundance of pork was offered: 'Pigs are very cheap to raise, and they eat anything.')
On the bright side, the meat here is generally tastier than that in the States, because it is almost entirely organic, not raised on corn in feedlots.
I usually have a hard-boiled egg and a cup of herbal tea for breakfast, although I have seen scrambled eggs with ham, and one memorable morning when there were no eggs was given a plate of three different renditions of cold pork and a cup of tea. Pork and bread and potatoes and cabbage, in varying forms (on good nights there is some sort of rice dish with peas; the worst thing that I have had so far was a bowl of cabbage cooked with scraps of pork, topped with a patty of some sort of ground meat, I pray that it doesn't reappear), usually comprise the dinner at the cafeteria. Impressively, the cafeteria food seems to be about the same sort of quality as many of the restaurants in the area (there are even wedding parties held in the cafeteria space on the weekends).
About a week after arriving in this land-locked country, I have developed a vicious craving for sushi, for curry, for diverse flavors. I don't at this point anticipate this being sated in the near future. The especially painful thing to me is trolling the supermarket shelves, a habit of mine, and seeing all of the ingredients, and envisioning the delicious potential meals they could form. Although there are not many of the more 'exotic' spices, the basics are all there -- pepper, salt, oregano, garlic, onions, olive oil, fresh dairy products. I can entirely imagine making wonderful pastas, putting different spins to the typical dishes, if given the opportunity.
Last weekend I met a friend of a friend who, upon learning that we shared a upcoming birthday, completely seriously declared his newly resolved intention to butcher a lamb and roast it on a spit. Spit-roasting animals is an important part of Serbian culture. It turns out, though, that the date in question falls during an Orthodox fasting period, so the lamb roast had to be bumped back to after the fast.
I have never been the biggest fan of pork, but it is possibly the most-used meat in Serbia. There is lamb, but many of the people I've talked with speak almost dismissively of it, saying that, 'Muslims eat lamb,' as if consuming pork somehow re-entrenches identity. So, while I prefer lamb (and chicken) to pork, they may be harder to obtain, particularly as I cannot cook for myself. (A reasonable explanation for the abundance of pork was offered: 'Pigs are very cheap to raise, and they eat anything.')
On the bright side, the meat here is generally tastier than that in the States, because it is almost entirely organic, not raised on corn in feedlots.
I usually have a hard-boiled egg and a cup of herbal tea for breakfast, although I have seen scrambled eggs with ham, and one memorable morning when there were no eggs was given a plate of three different renditions of cold pork and a cup of tea. Pork and bread and potatoes and cabbage, in varying forms (on good nights there is some sort of rice dish with peas; the worst thing that I have had so far was a bowl of cabbage cooked with scraps of pork, topped with a patty of some sort of ground meat, I pray that it doesn't reappear), usually comprise the dinner at the cafeteria. Impressively, the cafeteria food seems to be about the same sort of quality as many of the restaurants in the area (there are even wedding parties held in the cafeteria space on the weekends).
About a week after arriving in this land-locked country, I have developed a vicious craving for sushi, for curry, for diverse flavors. I don't at this point anticipate this being sated in the near future. The especially painful thing to me is trolling the supermarket shelves, a habit of mine, and seeing all of the ingredients, and envisioning the delicious potential meals they could form. Although there are not many of the more 'exotic' spices, the basics are all there -- pepper, salt, oregano, garlic, onions, olive oil, fresh dairy products. I can entirely imagine making wonderful pastas, putting different spins to the typical dishes, if given the opportunity.
Last weekend I met a friend of a friend who, upon learning that we shared a upcoming birthday, completely seriously declared his newly resolved intention to butcher a lamb and roast it on a spit. Spit-roasting animals is an important part of Serbian culture. It turns out, though, that the date in question falls during an Orthodox fasting period, so the lamb roast had to be bumped back to after the fast.
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