A Pie Filled With Nostalgia

Like the Caucasus, the Crimea has long captured the imagination of Russian writers and artists. The poet and painter Maximilian Voloshin (see page 28) lived for many years near Theodosia, in the town of Koktebel, on the shores of the Black Sea. His house became a magnet for many writers, including Osip Mandel-shtam, Andrei Bely, Mikhail Bul-gakov, and Marina Tsvetaeva. The glorious landscape there enchanted them all, but many Russian visitors were also enthralled by the foods they discovered. Their Crimean sketches often mention shaurma (lamb roasted on a vertical spit). Even more frequent mention is made of the deep-fried meat pies known as chebureki, which Mandelshtam immortalized in his 1925 poem “Theodosia”:

Идем туда, где разные науки

И ремесло – шашлык и чебуреки,

Где вывеска, изображая брюки,

Дает понятье нам о человеке…

We are going where there are various sciences

And crafts – shashlyk and chebureki,

Where signboards bearing pictures of pants

Help us understand mankind...

Why would a meat pie be worthy of a poem? For those who have eaten chebureki in the Crimea, they are redolent of the landscape — the salt of the sea, the wild herbs of the hills. In fact, chebureki were to the Russian émigré writer Andrei Sedykh what madeleines were to Proust. One taste, and he was immediately transported back to his youth in Theodosia. 

In his short story “Chebureki,” Sedykh recalls how Russians newly arrived in the Crimea would seek out chebureki, either at an elegant floating restaurant called Pasha-Tepe or at a street stand at the port, where one could have a huge pie, juicy and golden with oil, for only two kopeks. The sea always seemed to be phosphorescent, the poplars always sighed in the breeze, and as the Muscovites ate the chebureki, they shed their northern restraint. 

Part of the pleasure lay in giving up the usual conventions of dining. Chebureki are never eaten with any other foods — that would spoil the intensity of the experience. And to experience chebureki at their best, you must relinquish both knife and fork. Simply pick the pie up with both hands and bite off one corner, so that the hot lamb broth will shoot straight into your mouth. Cutting with a knife or poking with a fork would cause the flavorful juices to spurt out onto the plate and be lost. 

In tasting chebureki, the Russians tasted life.

My own first encounter with chebureki was in 1972, as a student in Leningrad. It was a typically cold and dreary November day. I was hungry, and in those days it wasn’t always easy to find places to eat. But I followed my nose to a storefront whose window was completely steamed up. Fabulous smells wafted out whenever the door opened, which was often, given the steady stream of customers. Even though I didn’t understand the name of this place, чебуречная, I decided to go in. Here was a joint (café would be too fine a word) specializing in chebureki. With one bite of a meat pie, I was hooked, like so many others had been before me. The taste was indeed redolent of far-off places, even though I had never been to the Crimea and had no idea of the pie’s history. 

I since learned that chebureki are a specialty of the Crimean Tatars. The dough differs from the soft yeast dough typical of pirozhki, the Russian meat pies. It is actually a noodle dough, so it fries up very crisp. The pies are filled with ground lamb and shaped into half moons like the various boiled dumplings encountered throughout Turkic cuisines. And while I can’t guarantee that making chebureki in your home kitchen will, years from now, induce nostalgia for your first bite, I do guarantee that you’ll enjoy a delicious meal.

Chebureki

Dough

21⁄2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 generous tablespoon vegetable oil

1 cup water

Filling

6 ounces beef

1⁄4 pound lamb (not too lean)

1 clove garlic

1 small onion

12 sprigs parsley, stems removed

11⁄4 teaspoons salt

Freshly ground black pepper to taste

6 tablespoons water

Vegetable oil for frying

To make the dough, mix together the flour and salt, then stir in the oil. Add the water to make a soft dough. Turn the dough out onto a floured board and knead until smooth and elastic. Wrap in plastic and refrigerate for at least 2 days before using.

To prepare the filling, grind together the beef, lamb, garlic, onion and parsley in a food processor until the mixture is fine and smooth. Stir in the salt, pepper, and water. Set aside.

Cut the dough into 16 equal pieces. On a floured board, roll each piece out thin to a circle 6 to 8 inches in diameter. The thinner the dough, the crisper the pies will be.

Spread a generous tablespoon of the filling on half of each circle, then fold the other half over the filling to enclose it, forming a half-moon. Seal the edges well with the tines of a fork.

Heat 1/2 inch of oil in a large frying pan. Fry the chebureki, two at a time, until golden, turning once. Serve immediately.

Serves 4 to 6.