My Grandmother's Kulchatay

If I were to name one dish from my culture that defined me, I'd say it was kulchatay (pronounced /ku:l-cha-'tay/) from the northern rural region of Kyrgyzstan where I spent my summers as a child and teenager, on my grandparents’ farm.

We had long summer breaks, from June 1 to September 1, and my mother, who was a single parent of two girls and had to work two jobs, sent me and my sister to her parents for the entire summer. I was the oldest grandchild, followed by my sister and four cousins from my mother's two siblings with an age difference of 3-11 years from me. Lead by my mom's youngest brother, who was only a couple of years my senior, we were a wild bunch, roaming the village streets on our own, without any adult supervision.

My grandfather, a WW2 vet, was always busy, working either at his regular job or on the farm before and after hours. I remember his strong silhouette, constantly moving around the farm and only sitting down to eat with the entire family. My grandmother was extremely relaxed about her (grand)parenting responsibilities and pretty much let us do whatever we wanted. Her main obligation to us, as she stated it to our parents, was to make sure that we were well-fed and didn't go to bed with dirty feet.

Oh, and did she feed us well indeed! My grandmother had worked her entire life as a cook at the state farm's cafeteria, and she loved cooking for others. She retired at the age of 50 (a special perk in the Soviet Union for mothers of five or more children) and my memories of her were only as a retired woman, spending most of her time in the kitchen, prepping, cooking and entertaining her girlfriends.

She loved working with dough. She’d always have a starter home-made yeast on hand to make oven-baked pirozhki. It would take her no time to whip up dough for her signature dish - kulchatay - using only flour and eggs. I still remember her strong hand kneading the dough with deliberate expert force. I could watch her in the kitchen for hours and she’d allow me to be her assistant chef checking on the dough and helping her to roll it out.

Kulchatay was always a true feast. It is a relatively simple dish of the nomads, made usually of only two ingredients - meat and dough. My grandmother also added onions and fresh herbs to garnish it. It is ideal for a large family as it is served on a large platter so that everyone could share in the wonderful meal.

The Kyrgyz and other nomadic people usually make it with lamb. My grandmother made it her staple by using poultry instead, combining chicken with the Muscovy duck.

The Muscovy duck (Cairina moschata) is a species of duck native to Central and South America, known for its distinctive red facial skin, beautiful dark teal plumage in males and quieter, less quacking nature compared to other duck species. Its meat is also much better tasting and not as dry as regular duck. My grandfather made a special trip every spring to the regional center to buy them and was the only one who raised them in the village.

My grandmother would combine half of the duck, the lower part with legs and tail, with a whole chicken for kulchatay. The secret of the dish is in well-cooked meat and the rich broth it produces. My grandma would boil the meat in a large open-fire cauldron for at least 3-4 hours, often skimming the scum off the top. After the meat was done, she'd take it out to cool before pulling and cutting it into small pieces.

She'd also let the broth cool and settle a little bit. Then she would filter the broth from all the remaining impurities, using gauze, to make it completely clean and transparent. I still remember its hearty smell while I was helping her by holding the gauze in place over a big pot.

While the broth was still boiling, she'd start on the dough. When the dough was ready, she'd quickly and expertly roll it out into large thin rounds and cut it into large diamonds or squares. They had to be large and as thin as possible. Her test was: Can you make it so thin that it lets through the light without tearing, still keeping its elasticity?

She'd always make a lot more dough than needed for one dinner, so that the rest could be cooked next day or later.

When the diamonds were ready to be cooked, she'd send me out to collect the other kids and tell my grandpa that dinner would be ready in about 10 minutes. He'd always say, "Aha, will be right there," finish up whatever he was doing and come to the kitchen exactly 10 minutes later. My grandpa was always on precise military time. We never started eating without him: he was the head of the family who had to be at the table, and signal to us kids that we could dig into the dish.

Putting the dish together required buttering a large platter, fishing out the cooked diamonds in three or four takes, splashing them with the broth and butter so that they don't stick to each other, and topping them generously with meat, onion rings and the greens - dill, green onions, and parsley. The cover pic is pretty much like it would look on the large platter. And then everyone digs in, scooping the dish into individual plates. Mmm and yum, my mouth is watering as I'm writing this.

Here's a recipe if anyone would like to try it:

Meat: lots of whichever meat you like, boiled for 3-4 hours, pulled or cut into small pieces after it's cooked.

Dough:

Flour - 4 cups

Eggs - 2

Water - 1 cup

1 teaspoon of salt (optional)

To make the dough the way my grandma did it:

1. Pour the flour onto your work surface to form a hill.

2. Make a crater on top of the flour hill big enough to break the eggs into and to add half of the water. Add salt at this stage if desired.

3. Starting with the hill foot, mix and knead the dough into the center, gradually adding the remaining water.

4. When the dough is more or less uniform in texture, shape it into a large ball and let it rest under a towel or large bowl for about 30 min, kneading from time to time.

5. When the dough is smooth and elastic, you can start rolling it out into large thin rounds, to be cut into large diamonds.

6. Cook the diamonds in the filtered broth. They will surface to the top when done. Serve on a large buttered platter, splashed with butter and broth to prevent sticking.

7. Generously top with meat, onions, and greens to your taste. The remaining broth can be served in small cups to either drink along or add to individual plates.

I hope you enjoy as much as I would. Don't forget to invite me to dinner!