You know, I was just scrolling online the other day, mindlessly looking at food stuff, as you do. And then these pictures of Georgian desserts popped up. I’d always associated Georgia with amazing savory dishes like Khachapuri, you know? Their cheese bread is legendary. But sweets? Hadn’t really given them a proper thought. These looked different, though. Not your usual cakes and pies. So, I figured, why not try my hand at it? A bit of an adventure in my own kitchen.
Diving into the World of Georgian Sweets
Right, so I wasn’t just going to stare at pretty pictures. Nope. I decided I was going to actually try and make some. My kitchen, my mess, my rules. I started poking around for recipes. And boy, some of them looked pretty involved. Lots of ingredients I wasn’t super familiar with, or techniques that seemed a bit fiddly. But hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?
I landed on trying to make Churchkhela. You’ve probably seen them – those long, sort of candle-shaped sweets made with nuts and grape juice. They always looked so unique to me. And the bonus? To make Churchkhela, you first have to make Pelamushi, which is this thick grape pudding that forms the coating. So, I thought, two birds with one stone. Sounded efficient at the time.
First challenge: the grape juice. The recipes were pretty specific – not just any old carton from the supermarket. I managed to hunt down some proper unsweetened, dark grape juice. That felt like a small win. Then, the nuts. Walnuts are the classic choice, so walnuts it was. Threading them onto a heavy string? Let me tell you, that was a test of patience. My first few attempts looked more like lumpy, sad worms than the neat strands I was aiming for. Took a while to get the hang of that.
Then came the Pelamushi itself. Mixing that grape juice with flour, and then cooking it, and cooking it, stirring constantly. And when they say constantly, they mean it. My arm was definitely feeling it by the end. The whole kitchen started to smell incredible, though – all warm and grapey. But dipping those nut strings into the hot, super-thick Pelamushi was where things got really messy. Seriously, my countertop looked like a purple swamp monster had a party. And then you have to hang them to dry. For days! My kitchen started to resemble some kind of weird, sticky art installation.
- Patience, patience, patience. You’ll need loads of it.
- Don’t even think about wearing a light-colored shirt. Trust me on this.
- I think using good quality, tart grape juice really does make a difference.
After what felt like an eternity (okay, maybe a week of drying), they were done. Well, “done” in the sense that they were dry. They definitely looked homemade. Very rustic, let’s say. Not quite the sleek, shiny Churchkhela you see in fancy photos from Tbilisi. But you know what? The taste was amazing. Chewy, nutty, with that unique grape flavor, and not overly sweet, which I liked. The leftover Pelamushi, eaten just as a pudding, was also surprisingly delicious. Simple, but really satisfying.
So, what did I learn? Georgian desserts are no joke. They take time, and a bit of elbow grease. It’s not just about throwing ingredients together. There’s a real craft to it. My kitchen is still showing faint purple stains in places I didn’t know grape juice could reach, but it was worth it. I think next on my list might be Gozinaki – that honey and nut brittle. Sounds a bit less prone to widespread kitchen disaster. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll appreciate the store-bought ones even more next time I see them, knowing the effort involved. It was an experience, that’s for sure. A sticky one, but a good one.
