Freshly Picked Peppers In December In Bulgaria

It was quite amazing as I walked out into the factory farm today at lunchtime. Still there before me were peppers ready to be picked and eaten and that was exactly what I did. From July to December (6 months) I have eaten freshly picked peppers daily for my lunch and more. The massive stocks that were picked at the height of the growing season are still in the freezer untouched for very good reason.

In Yambol there has yet to be a frost that would decimate the last remains of peppers that hang there and still grow on. This is unfounded so the Bulgarians tell me. Most of them pulled up all their old pepper producing plants and turned the earth over for winter months ago. It seems that laziness has its rewards here with my production still rolling on.

On other fronts, we have had to cancel our weekend trips to the farmhouse twice over the last three weekends as party invitation had to be taken up. And why not, there isn’t much to do on the Skalitsa farmhouse other than finish sowing the garlic and there’s no rush. The party starts at 1:00 tomorrow (Saturday) and the occasion? Well the family just fancied a party, that’s it!

Well after all we have spent the best part of a year working the land so it is about time we did a bit more socialising with the town folk during winter. It looks like whether we are in the town or village, partying is the main vocation with winter upon us, albeit a very warm one right now.

Lastly, I am still trying to get a digital camera sorted out; I never thought it would take as long as this and apologise for the lack of photographs in recent months.

Image by Martin LaBar via Flickr

A Bulgarian Birthday Without Fuss

A birthday is something both Galia and I both can’t wait to get over. There is too much fuss made with it, especially that we are both getting on a bit. Bulgarians love celebrating things and birthdays is an occasion where this is more than just an excuse to have a get together with food and drink. Such an occasion was last Friday with Galia’s birthday.

Our normal plan on Friday is to zoom off to the farmhouse directly finishing work at 5:00 and even though it was Galia’s birthday that day the plan still stood for us to do that. The reason were two fold, the corps needed watering that very evening and Galia just didn’t’ want to be around as she knew there would be lots of fussing an guests on here birthday, this is something she didn’t want so the village destination was on to get away from this.

It’s never that easy as Galia’s son turned up just before we were to leave and he was to travelled with us to the farmhouse as a guest with his girlfriend joining us the following day after she finished work in the evening. Then there were more people who were crammed in the car after we had been shopping for provision. Out village neighbours and their Labrador dog clambered in the Lada with the boot full of factory farm produced peppers for barbecuing and 75 kg of ceramic tiling which our guests wanted transporting as their bathroom was being renovated this weekend. We felt every bump on the road to Skalitsa as the Lada bottomed out on each bump and there ARE LOTS OF BUMPS!

Everyone knew it was Galia’s birthday but most people just wish Happy Birthday along with wishes of good luck, business, health and love, gifts aren’t always given and to be quite honest both Galia and I are quite embarrassed with receiving them as we know money is very short here. I had paid for an item of clothing a week ago and Galia insisted that was to be all she wanted from me as a birthday gift. Although we don’t want presents we both can’t help not getting each other a little gift. That’s all she got from me as she would become upset if I bought something else, I know I’ve done it before and I felt as guilty as Galia.

The evening was spent as a threesome with Galia son and me as we sat outside in the dark night sipping rakia and salad and went inside later to present Galia with a little cake with three candles which we use again and again for every birthday in Skalitsa. A Happy Birthday song sung badly a birthday kiss and the candles blown out and that was the entirety of the birthday celebrations. We were all tuck in bed by 10:00 – The reason? We were all going to go fishing in the morning and the alarms were set for a 5:30 rise!

Galia really enjoy the little fuss that was made on this day she calls ‘unspecial’. I know what she means. Birthday celebrations to Galia and I are to be celebrated but not lavishly with massive festivities and expense. The little cake and song along with the spoken wishes were just enough put a silver lining on an ordinary day and that’s all Galia wanted.

Flies In Bulgaria - They've Won

Flies in Bulgaria are accepted as part and parcel of life here. Bulgarian’s just aren’t bothered about them as they have the free run of the place. From April to October flies are around everywhere and they are really cheeky with it.

Now I come from a culture where cleanliness is paramount, if a fly is in the house everything else stops unit that fly is either ushered out or exterminated the latter the preferable option for me. I know flies are on this earth for a reason and we would be sky high in sewerage without them, but there is a time and place for flies that doesn’t correspond very well with me. With this mind of flies out of my environment, this is one instance where the disadvantages of being in a climate that is perfect for flies. I have adjusted to most things here and made headway with the fly problem, but I still have a long way to go to accepting them as permanent guests wherever I am.

My home is still a fly free place, there have been provisions put in to prevent flies entering with fly screens on every window and the only entrance, this works very well. If there happens to be one that sneaks in there is the battery hand vacuum to suck it up, I don’t use chemicals sprays purely down to the cost. Eating food and drink in the house presents no problems if left uncovered and unattended – I feel very happy with this.

Turning to my Bulgarian family, friends and neighbours they have had a history of flies, whether they originally tried to fight them and just gave up knowing that they wouldn’t win I don’t know. I know they are fully aware of the germs flies carry around and the dirty business they leave on the food left around, but that is no worry for them. There is absolutely no panic involved in seeing a fly on food, on their arm or leg or in the house. The flies are left free to do what they want without any retaliation from Bulgarians and that is something I find quite alien.

If a fly lands on my leg I swipe it instantaneously, I never get it and it is free to roam again. Flies on my food and in my drink if seen would trigger and immediate reaction again to swipe and get them off, then think twice about eating the food they have just been on. When first coming here, I’d never eat food that I knew a fly had landed on unless it can be washed i.e. fruit. I have now accepted that I would starve to death if I kept this up when dining out or with other Bulgarian’s homes. There is now a new Martin that accepts that you have to go with the flow eating and drinking with the knowledge that flies have had the first course. I still feel quite uneasy about this, but it is getting easier as time goes by.

I know that food that is presented to guests in Bulgarian restaurants and flies have has had flies as guests beforehand, this is unavoidable and you have to accept that. Many people here just can’t understand why I have such a problem with flies being around. I explain the reason of hygiene and they understand. Then they explain that this is not a problem and if no one has been ill or has suffered from food that has been visited by flies why should I worry. I have no answer to that, in fact even though I have an obvious cultural phobia with flies I do believe that missing with a few germs helps build up you immune system and it is with that knowledge I accept food that flies have tampered with.

Eating with my good neighbour friends outside in the village in the height of summer is a bit like going through a round of Survivor. Their home is right next to the village rubbish tip and the flies we get there both in and out of the house are unfounded. We spend lots of time with them and the friendship we have with them overrides any fear of flies, but it is a relief indeed for us to get back into out home next door inside in the fly free zone. Even Galia freely admits that the swarms of flies that we all have to endure with our neighbours are extremely uncomfortable and she is glad to get home. Again we know for sure that the flies have invaded food whilst being prepared but is still beats any food in the UK. Flies are of course all part of nature here, why shouldn’t I accept that like the Bulgarians. I stress once again, not once have we been ill or suffered form the food we have eaten there. It is prepared and eaten fresh on a daily basis therefore there is no time for any incubation. Problems lies with in correctly stored food over days and that’s where the health problems lie.

Finally, it is a strange phenomenon, but if there are a group of people (Bulgarians) sitting with me, flies always seem to land or hover around me. Whether this is because I have a different scent than I don’t know, it is quite annoying that the person that finds it hard to accept flies around gets this treatment.

Does anyone else in warm climates have a problem with flies? If so how do they deal with it?

Top Image: www.rescue.com
Bottom Image: www.wikimedia.org

Food In Bulgaria - World Blog Surf Day

Well World Blog Surf Day has arrived and the theme is food. This is something that is a passion for many bloggers and I’m sure we’ll get some tasty post surfing around the word today.

I have written many post on food and would have found myself rewriting what I have already covered. With this in mind I have decided to take and extract out of my book that was published recently and use that at the material that basically covers my finding of food in Bulgaria.

(A big thank you to Sher @ http://sheroffthebeatenpath.blogspot.com/ for all her work organising this world blog surf day)

- Living Off the Bulgarian Land -

Food here in Bulgaria is something else — every day a new experience is to be had in Bulgarian cuisine. I must say that it helps tremendously that my partner is Bulgarian and cooks like an angel, but that aside, the Bulgarian friends and neighbours still tickle my taste buds at every opportunity with their own cooking. Since coming here there hasn’t really been any moment where a pang for supermarket branded food has called out. No Twiglets, Mars Bars, baked beans or even sherbet fountains with the liquorice sticking out felt needed or wanted. In fact nowadays the only thing I can remember about these foods is the horrible aftertaste! Those who have been here eating natural Bulgarian food for long enough will know exactly what I mean.

Every few weeks someone asks, ‘I’m coming over, what would you like me to bring for you?’ It is very difficult to think of anything, even after really thinking hard. So these kind people usually bring over some English teabags, Cadbury’s creme eggs or a bottle of whisky; many thanks guys, and I mean this most sincerely, but these are then actually used for English guests that come round, so very useful anyway. This is not being ungracious, but just speaking truthfully about how things are now.

Here in Bulgaria, most produce comes straight out of the village homes, most of which are not just homes but smallholdings. Food comes from a variety of sources, mainly grown from the rich, dark, fertile land. This produce also feeds chickens, cows and calves, goats and sheep, ducks and geese, rabbits and peafowl, to name a few. Back in the village of Skalitsa where I live, there is no need for supermarket shopping. Occasionally food is bought from the supermarket, more out of habit if I happen to be in town, but usually from my local village shop that provides everything I need: bread and flour (both made and milled in my village), sunflower oil (locally produced), salt and sugar. Local honey is more often used for sweetening than sugar. Filo pastry is also sometimes bought for the homemade banitsas — the recipe for the unique Skalitsa banitsa is further on in the book, but there are other pastry variations of the banitsa throughout Bulgaria. Last but not least, beer: making your own beer is not entertained, as it would never touch the quality that the Belgian brewery owners achieve here. You just can’t improve on perfect beer.

I can’t say there is much else needed. As much wine, rakia and liqueur as I could ever wish for is all locally produced in the village or on my own farm. Sunflower seeds are gathered from the field adjoining my land, and as long as it is for personal consumption there is no problem with this; in fact, the mice in the field eat more than any villager. They are dried (some salted) and stored in airtight, recycled plastic food boxes. Chickpeas are grown and stored in the same way; sweetcorn is grown or again taken in from fields and dried (but not used for animal feed — that wouldn’t be right if taken from the co-operative fields) and fried in oil to make popcorn: another treat from the garden, flavoured either with honey or salt before popping. So there’s your little variety of snacks to accompany your drinks.

All the cheeses and yoghurts are homemade. All from natural ingredients. Walnuts are gathered and keep for up to a year for use in cooking. Walnuts baked in honey are another Bulgarian food legend, and also used as another accompaniment to drinks. Almonds are harvested, with shells you can remove without nutcrackers; ever tried that with a supermarket almond? Fresh figs are preserved in syrup. There are melons galore, both the honeydew and water type; the latter makes a marvellous jam to be eaten all year round. Strawberry jam used for cakes and for milkshakes is a summer taste second to none. Apples, pears and sliva can all be stored in boxes or bottled in syrup and kept for up to six months. My last apple, eaten in April this year, was almost as good as it would have been picked in October the year before. And it was sweet and tasted like an apple!

On occasion non-Bulgarian guests visit and sometimes turn their nose up at some of the food offered because it’s not like the food they’re used to buying in shops. You may well be surprised at how many say that! This is the only other reason that supermarkets are frequented, to cater for the need of these occasions. No offence is taken at this point; it’s not their fault, it’s the system they have grown to rely on. All the produce that is not in season has been either frozen or bottled, and supplies take us through the winter and spring. This is not a chore — the garlic and onions are plaited and the tomatoes, peppers, potatoes and pumpkins boiled for bottling on the outside wood-burning contraption. Everything is done slowly and very systematically. When it comes to doing anything like this in village life there is never any panic or rush with the long day ahead. Why do we, on the other hand, still try and hurry things to get them done as quickly as possible all the time?


With all this food to hand, including most meats and a range of poultry and dairy products, you can make anything you want from the ingredients. Even beef can be grown, bought or bartered for in the village. Everything and more is grown here compared to the UK. So what’s the problem there? Nothing, it would seem — the problem in the UK for many is the culture of buying convenience food rather than growing your own. How many have a garden where produce can be grown? Most people. The climate here helps a lot, but what makes it work here is the way of life and the homegrown food culture, which left the UK some 40-50 years ago. You come to Bulgaria and take a big step back in time. I’m always amazed at how the simplest ingredients can turn out to be another memorable meal. Just a sliced young marrow fresh from the garden, dipped in flour and fried until brown, then served hot topped with homemade yoghurt. It was that simple, but the result was something very special. Everyday another taste or recipe is laid out and enjoyed; it really is going back to basic ingredients and enjoying them for what they are. How often is this forgotten, bowing to commercially processed foods made for you from a point of ease and laziness? For convenience, the process squeezes out the taste of natural foods with chemically enhanced products as the replacement, and this becomes the ‘taste of the norm’ for the weekly consumers. Food regulations introduced is understandable to protect health, but it has gone to extremes and the very chemicals that are meant to protect such as preservatives, flavour enhancements and added colouring, etc. is just as bad if not worse for our long term health.

It is quite strange that most village folk don’t have a choice of shopping for food over growing their own food; they simply can’t afford it. If they could afford to and had a choice the convenience foods are there, waiting in the wings, ready to pounce for profits, which is the name of the game. The new generation of Bulgarians is making its way to becoming part of the American and Euro fast food brigade. The traditional horticultural activities carried out in villages throughout Bulgaria may end up being restricted to commercial dimensions, as they were in the UK so many years ago. I am grateful and privileged to have the opportunity to experience Bulgaria as it is now.

There’s one old wives tale that I continually hear, concerning eggs. The chickens I keep are totally free range, with access to all-natural food in the big yard and greenery from the waste organic vegetation, and a supplement of natural wheat to call them home in the evening. Nothing could be more free range than these chickens. So when someone says, ‘Oh, I tried some free range eggs and the colour of the yolk was so deep in colour, it was orange,’ I’m a little dubious. Do you have a picture of this apparently fresh free-range egg now revealing its sensuous lush orange yolk, just waiting to melt in the mouth after being lightly fried in a little oil and laid on a bed of the softest white buttered bread you could imagine? Looks good? Tastes good? Doubt it! This is not true; the colour of free-range eggs is usually just plain yellow at best. Battery and commercial egg producers (other than the chickens themselves, of course) use colour additives in the feed to produce a more deeply-coloured yolk, which is what the consumer wants and gets — supply and demand. So the chicken may be described as free-range but what are they given to eat? Market research has found that the yellow yolk doesn’t sell as well as the darker orange-tinted colour. Next time you go to a town supermarket and buy eggs, even so-called free-range ones, see how orange the yolk is; you know why now.

I am still a lifetime away from getting my produce up to the standard of my Bulgarian neighbours: the learning goes on all the time. It is clear that the attitude to food in the UK is that convenience food rules. This is not from the point of choice, many just don’t get the choice with their hectic work related lifestyle and a bygone age of daily family table meals. Even if home cooking does happen, ingredients that are used are sourced from supermarkets and also grown in a rush, furthermore hardly ever locally produced and only remains fresh from preservative processes. The difference here in Bulgaria is the food is local, fresh. Along with the culture, the climate, the slow pace of life that been inbred over many generations, you will find that the food grows faster than the pace of life.

Sourced from "Simple Treasures In Bulgaria"
Copyright © Martin Miller-Yianni
ISBN 978-0-9559849-0-7
www.amazon.co.uk

Your next port of call is now at http://vedatc.blogspot.com/ Vedat has been living in Turkey from birth (1988). Now, he is living in Poland studying at Lazarski University as an exchange student. In his own words he, "Loves writing in blogs!" It should be an eye opener to many who read it.

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Anastasia Ashman is an American cultural producer based in Istanbul, and is a creator of Expat Harem, the anthology by foregin women about modern Turkey. Her Tweetstream focuses on women, travel and history and she shares resources for writers/travelers, expats, Turkophiles & culturati of all stripes. There is an open invite to follow her on twitter. Her account is: Thandelike

Bulgarian Cat And Rat Saga

The rats are still having it all their own way after the new trap system was installed. It just didn’t work. The rats just aren’t interested in circus acts before being drowned in the sunflower seed covered water so it was back with another plan and another trap.

There are many types of trap they use here including the conventional spring loaded baited plate, but a favourite is the sprung door which is snapped shut when the bait is tampered with inside the metal cage. We set up one each of these traps for a few nights to see if we could any success. The bait I feel it the secret so every day we change the food that lures them.

Chicken, salami, sirene, chocolate, sunflower seeds, cake where some of the food we tried and then success! Some Bulgarian salami on the bait the metal cage did the trick and got its first rat. We were at the farmhouse at the time so it was left for Baba to do the business of drowning it in a bucket of water.

When we arrived Baba had saved the drowned rat for us to see. Not a pretty sight and brought about more worries on assessment. This was not the rats we had seen scampering in and out of the garage, but a baby rat! Rats don’t just have a single ratlet but a litter, there must be many other and the parents still have the run of the place. This rat was so to speak a drop in the ocean!

We decided there and then that enough was enough we should use poison. Galia and Baba were against this as they argued that there would be the smell of rotting rats that they would have to put up with through the warm weather we are having right now. What was the alternative? Well there wasn’t a case to answer really for not putting down poison now. Me being the man of the house was asked to make the decision even though they weren’t that keen on the answer.

The poison laid that night and the following morning it had all disappeared. This was a good feeling as I topped up the little plastic trays for another night of toxic feasting in store.
That same day we met up with some family and were dragged into their home for some beer and salami. They live on the 4th floor of an apartment in Yambol centre, we also met their cat! Mmm, the idea of borrowing a cat seemed on so I asked. The next thing I knew was the cat had been packed away in a travel cage with some cat food in a plastic bag and we were off home with a cat that wasn’t too happy about being shoved around.

The cat spent the night in the yard in his confined space and the following morning we opened the cage ready for it to check the garage for vermin after we had cleared all the poison away. No poison had been eaten, probably because the cat was in the area. As the door opened the cat sprung out scaled an 8-foot wall and landed in next doors driveway where a big guard dog was waiting. All we could hear was continuous barking and hissing.

As we ventured next door there was the confrontation, the dog wanting to attack but every time he when near the cat hissed and the dog stopped. That was how it was for quite a while. We managed to get the dog away, but the cat was now wild and would not let us anywhere near it. I got clawed and bitten trying to get the cat back into the travel cage. The only answer now was to get the owner, who we rung. He was due to arrive lunchtime and did. The cat was now in the box after the owner did the business and he was to collect it after work later that day.

The evening ended up with a party as the family came to collect the cat. I was a good idea but just didn’t’ work with this particular cat. We all got together to tell the story and catch up with other news. An excuse to bring out the Rakia, home grown salad from the factory farm picked earlier in the day and another sirene dish that I will have to write up about it was that good.

So more poison put down in the garage before bedtime as we have now run out of ideas. It should do the job as it does in the farmhouse where it is laid down permanently in hidden areas. No problems at all there.

Bulgarian Family Trip to the Yambol Cemetery

There was a clue yesterday evening as I got back from my labours on the city farm. Galia had been to the shop and brought back with here lots of sweets, biscuits, cake bars and fruit. I know that these are given as gifts to people on special occasion and tomorrow was one of those days.

Early tomorrow morning we were to go to a Yambol cemetery to visit Galia's Baba's grave. She died 22 years ago and each year the family visit on this anniversary to tidy up, place new flowers and shrubs, give a blessing, light candles, water and give Baba a drink of wine.

Our 86-year-old current Baba was to come with us; we missed the occasion last year in the UK.

We loaded up the Lada with all the flowers and shrubs, that were picked from our own garden rather than being bought. A good supply of water, a bottle of home made wine, some Bulgarian gardening hand tools and the food bought the day before packed in five plastic bags to be presented to today's family visitors to the grave were also loaded up.

We arrived at the same time as the sun that was now beating down on us. Now our Baba insisted we park the car outside the cemetery grounds, as we would have had to pay one Bulgarian leva for entry. She would much rather buy a loaf of bread with this money that she felt would be ill spent. It was nearly had a kilometre to Baba's grave as young Baba stopped every 100 metres to draw breath.

Now I have done this before over the last two years with Galia who attends her late husband's grave each year. I knew the routine and the rituals so nothing surprised me today. The fact that no one felt sad or slightly morbid with lots of talking joking and generally normal bouncy behaviour was normal and I felt quite at ease with this mood this year.

All the graves have pictures of the deceased on the head stone, many is not most with the husband and wife in the same grave, some with whole families of up to five or six. Some graves have sculptured masks of the dead on the headstone, usually a more important figure, but in general in true socialist style every grave area is the same with slight variations of headstone style. All done in a reserved and respectful manner and always understated, no extroverts allowed here.

Beneath each headstone is a base stone with a cavity cut out. This has a glass front and a metal door at the back, which is padlocked entry to a cavity. This is a space for personal possessions and effects are stored, for instance a photograph of the family they had left behind or a book etc., which is probably why it is locked. tis can be seen through the glass at the front. Also the candles that are lit each year is usually placed in side a little hand built shelter to protect from the wind, but most are of an old oil can with one side cut out as they site permanently on the grave browned by the years of rust.

We finally got there and all three of us set about tidying the grave up, it took a good half an hour of graft to get everything looking spic and span. Just as we finished other members of out family turned up - 'Well timed!' we said as we wiped the sweat of our brows after slaving away with weeds and planting in this now blazing April sun. We all exchanged the bags of food goodies, each of us lit a candle and placed it in the freshly dug soil on the grave and said a prayer as we watched the candles burn lower.

We then each took bottle of water and poured it over the grave in a cross motion and exactly the same was done with the bottle of wine saying another small prayer whilst doing it. A few minutes of talking over the grave, again very happily and joyful conversations about when young Baba was going to join her mother whereas we all agree that she would have to lose weight before she passes away as she wouldn't fit in the grave for one and her pension wasn't enough to cover the cost of a tractor to lay here to rest. Like I said, there is no sorrow involved on these occasions, it is almost like another celebrations and of course food and drink involved.

We talked our way out of the cemetery grounds and took Baba for the first time in her life to a big supermarket, Kaufland. She pushed a supermarket trolley for the first time in her life, knocking quite a few people out of the way during the learning process. We only got a loaf of bread there, but spent over an hour talking to people we knew who worked there, this is normal.

So back home and the day is half gone as we tuck into the bag of goodies presented to us including some lovely home made cake on of the family had baked yesterday (riddled with local home grown walnuts!) Mmmm!

Why no photographs taken you might ask? It has nothing to do with respect, as you might be thinking. I took the camera only to find that the batteries were dead when getting there; perhaps I should have buried them and said a prayer while I was there!