Some find Romania at a deliciously interesting crossroads of a few fine cuisines, fact that grants its being diverse. Others, quite to the contrary, find the local dishes primitive, rough and, well, simply too fat or pork-intensive to be enjoyable. Actually - like with most things in life - it depends on where, when and how the hell it all happens. Because, in the end of the day, this is where Russian sour ciorbas meet a variety of pickles every respectable Romanian should make at home, Oriental koftas, German wurst or French desserts, all next to always served with a hell lot of mămăligă, hmm, I hope you have got it, that polenta thing aside, respectively drowned in local plum brandy. But, if there is something particular for this country, that is meat. We are talking heaps of meat, preferably pork; but even so, should one say the magic words: “de post”, there are delicious ways for vegetarians too. Be thankful for that to the religious folk around. There is one thing to keep in mind though before they all start coming and coming: a “regular” meal at one’s house consists of what you might consider as not less than 5 dishes. Let me count.

One. No meal yet: “only” some șorici, a little gossip and a bit of aubergine salad. Before even considering they have started eating, Romanians will invite you for a drink (plum or other fruit brandy), i.e. țuică if you are in Bucharest or Wallachia and Moldavia; it would be palincă in Transylvania and horincă in Maramureș. The real thing is homemade, ranges between 40 and 50% alcohol, has no added sugar and comes form the countryside, not from the supermarket. Ladies might be served the sweet, 15-20% alcohol option of vișinată (wild cherry brandy) or afinată (blueberry brandy); yet they are not always spared the țuică baptism and a refusal is not received well. There will be some starter aside, such as șorici (boiled, grilled or fried pork skin), jumări (pork chops with a lot of fat, fried, cooled down and preserved in lard, then usually served cold or used for omelettes and some mains), slană (smoked pork ham), tobă (pork organs boiled together, cut to small pieces and then put in jelly in pork guts), caltaboși (pork liver and kidneys boiled minced, then stuffed in pork guts), babic (dry, mildly spicy pork and beef sausages) and ghiudem (dry mutton and beef sausages), peppers or tomatoes stuffed with cheese and dill, as well as bread slices with zacuscă (a mixture of vegetables boiled in a lot of oil and mashed, so that they can last for many months) and salată de vinete (mashed aubergine salad). More rarely in this part of the country, you will be served caș (smoked yellow cheese) to go with that blasted glass of țuică. Most traditional restaurants will serve the above on platters of different “cold starters”, while sometimes the aubergine salad and the zacuscă are also sold separately, being especially recommended in summer, when they should be served cold. At one’s house, on might also pop into stuffed eggs (boiled eggs stuffed with a mixture of egg yolk, mustard, nutmeg, black pepper, salt and sometimes a little cheese) or fish eggs. Of the above, the zacuscă is good at La Taifas and the fried șorici at Vatra to name but two places.

Two. OK, let us “begin” with something local.  Then, should your hosts be good ones, they will cook some mămăligă (En corn polenta), put some telemea (En. fresh, salted sheep or cow cheese), butter and sour cream aside; you are supposed to mix everything before eating. You have just had the mamaligă cu brânză și smântână (En. polenta with cheese and sour cream); any traditional restaurant will have this dish. In some of the better places (just like in any sheepfold up the mountains), you will find the bulz ciobănesc, i.e. hardened polenta, sometimes fried in butter, and always filled with brânză de burduf (En. very salted and spicy cheese); not so often here in the South of the country, you might also find the balmoș: corn flour boiled in butter and sour cream, then served with buttermilk and the above-mentioned telemea. Even though the finest mămăligă cu brânză and bulz are to be found at a sheepfold (my favourite place lying up in Suhard Mountains), the ones at Jariștea and Casa Doina are good (even though these two restaurants are not among my recommendations, service and fairness-wise), while Nicorești’s rules.

Three. Don’t give my father his goddamn ciorbă and he won’t talk to you for a week. Traditionally Romanians rarely eat supă (sweet, French style soups). They would rather have a ciorbă, a sour dish made of vegetables and often (but not always) containing some sort of meat. Of the wide variety out there, I could mention here a few samples: ciorbă de burtă (En. tripe soup; it should be served with sour cream and hot peppers), ciorbă de perisoare (En. meatball soup), ciorbă țărănească (En. country style soup made of different vegetables, beef and borsch), ciorbă de potroace (famous as it is used to recover people after a drinking or wedding party, it is made of chicken and a large quantity of marinated cabbage juice), ciorbă de varză cu smântână (En. cabbage soup with sour cream). Among the few “light” sweet soups, you will probably meet the supă cu găluște (En. dumpling soup); vegetarians should mind the fact that it is usually made of chicken broth. Of the same sweet kind you might find the supă de pui (sweet chicken soup) or - more rarely - the Moldavian zamăs (sweet and too inconsistent to be good, chicken or noodle soup). Back to sour ciorbas, not so often in Bucharest, you might find the borș pescăresc (En. fish borsch), a great fish and rice soup served with polenta. A special kind of soup (especially served in winter) is the piftie, a pork jelly soup with garlic; sometimes one can also find the turkey variation (piftie de curcan). Vegetarians can try a ciorbă de legume (En. vegetable sour soup), a ciorbă de lobodă (En. orach sour soup, great if you add some sour cream or yoghurt on top) or a supă de dovlecei (En. vegetable marrow soup). Unfortunately restaurants will usually serve only the ciorbă de legume or supă de ciuperci (En. mushroom soup). For one, the tripe soup at Vatra will always be on my list, while the other ciorbas are fabulous at Nicorești.

Four. Let us get serious here. And now, set your foot off that train or plane in Bucharest and you hear of it. Also to be found in other countries across the Balkans, as well as in Hungary, the sarma is considered by most Romanians as a national dish (even if it originates with the Turks if not farther East, where they used to cook it of mutton instead of pork); the sarma stands for minced pork mixed up with rice and herbs, respectively wrapped up in pickled cabbage or vine leaves and boiled in tomato sauce; real sarma cooks add some pork fat and ham before putting the pot into the oven. The sarma is best served with polenta (instead of bread), sour cream and chillies. There are two types of sarma: sarmale in foi de viță (vine leaf sarma) and sarmale in foi de varză murată (marinated cabbage leaf sarma; these are the ones to go for); during the Orthodox lent, but not only, you could also be offered sarmale de post (En. lent sarma, filled only with rice and spices). Sarmas being among my test dishes when I visit a new traditional restaurant, I would anytime recommend them at Caru’ cu Bere or Hanul Hangiței.

Apart from the sarma, Romania provides a wide variety of main dishes, some of which are not usually served in restaurants. Traditionally eaten on and after Easter, the stufat de miel (En. lamb roast with garlic leaf garnish) can be best found at one’s house. An originally Turkish dish, the ciulama is nothing but a fat chicken broth thickened with wheat flour and butter, then served with chicken scraps (ciulama de pui) or mushrooms (ciulama de ciuperci). Among other main dishes, I shall mention the ardei umpluți (peppers stuffed with a mixture of minced pork, rice and spices, then baked in tomato sauce) and the musaca de cartofi cu carne (alternative layers of potato slices and spiced, minced pork/mutton/beef or all of them mixed together, baked in lard, oil or butter); vegetarians can try the musaca de legume (vegetable musaca). As Oltenia (central Wallachia, with the capital in Craiova) is not that far away, you will next to always find the cârnăciori oltenești (smoked, spicy and dry sausages, fried or rarely grilled), best served with fasole bătută (mashed beans mixed with oil and fried onions) or iahnie (boiled beans). Most traditional restaurants will also serve the tochitură (a great mixture of pork sausages, organs, scraps, pieces of steak and smoked ham, baked in a spicy sauce, respectively served with polenta, fried eggs and salted cheese if you get the real, complete one). Other options could include the frigărui (scraps of meat and tomatoes, peppers and onions grilled on a spit), the mici (grilled minced pork, mutton and garlic mini sausages) and the filling pomana porcului (pork liver, pork skin, kidneys, ham and scraps, all of them fried in pork fat or oil, then mixed with white wine and garlic sauce). A heavy, but incredibly tasty dish (especially if joined by a glass of Dealurile Prahovei’s Fetească Neagră), the rață pe varză (En. duck roast on cabbage) can also be considered by real gourmands, but it is not usually served in restaurants. If inspiration fails facing a hunger crisis, kindly refer to the ciolan afumat cu fasole: a smoked pork knuckle boiled, then roasted in beans, all of it in Texas size a portion; have some pickles aside and consider a glass of Segarcea Pinot Noir to go with it.

Vegetarians but not only can try the delicious mâncare de urzici (En. only found in spring time: boiled fresh nettle dish usually served with polenta and fresh garlic sauce, but do ask that they do not serve it with a fried egg if you do not eat eggs: “fără ou”), ghiveci (a tasty all vegetable stew), pilaf de post (rice with vegetables), fasole de post (beans with onions and carrots), as well as the excellent mâncare de prune uscate (dried plum and fried onion dish) and mâncare de gutui (quince dish), both of them sweet, but not considered as dessert. Generally speaking, the “de post” will make them get it that you are an Orthodox fanatic and that you eat lent food year round, so they will serve no meat dishes. While, sorry folks, but for the finest tochitură in this country you have to go all the way to Câmpulung Moldovenesc’s Manoir Mignon and Mrs. Fota’s cooking, I would always give a thumb up to Bistro Athenaeum’s musaca or ghiveci călugăresc.

Salads could include salată verde (En. lettuce), salată de roșii (En. tomato salad), salată de sezon (En. season salad, usually fresh tomatoes, cucumbers and onions) or the salată de varză (En. minced cabbage salad). Restaurants usually provide aceto and olive oil, but sometimes they provide only some bland wine vinegar and rotten sunflower oil; if so, it is recommended to ask for the good ones. In summer, but not only, I would recommend the salată de ardei copți (En. baked peppers dipped in vinegar and oil, it can also go as a fine starter) and the great salată de murături asortate (En. mixed pickle salad, including pickled cucumbers, bell peppers, tomatoes and even melons sometimes); in winter, some restaurants will also have salată de varză murată (En. marinated cabbage salad). For more than a regular bite of vegetables to go with the main course, I would anytime recommend Galleron’s Millennium Salad (even though this is not a traditional venue). Winter and especially the holidays (the Christmas - New Year’s - January 7 / St. John period) see the omnipresent dressing salads, some of which also contain meat. Of these, the salată de boeuf rules. Its name would translate as ‘beef salad’, but it often comes without beef (which can be replaced with chicken breasts) and sometimes without any sort of meat; its close relative is the Russian salad. My recipe has boiled potatoes, carrots, celery and eggs cut in small pieces, mixed with peas, minced apples, sliced pickled cucumbers and bell peppers, olives and - of course - a soft boiled piece of tenderloin in small slices. One then mixes everything with care so that it does not turn into a porridge sort of thing. At the end, mayonnaise is added and the composition is once again slowly mixed together, it is then shaped like a cake, covered entirely with a thin layer of mayonnaise and decorated at will with pickles; it is always served cold and this is a de rigueur dish for the winter holidays, when one has guests for dinner. Unfortunately few restaurants serve it and the complete experience can only occur at a local home, as it requires the cook’s explanations and arguments while assuming that his / her salată de boeuf is, of course, the best around.

Five. Some fried dessert, anyone? Huh, and then desserts. In a restaurant you will usually find a few items on the desert list, such as the recommended papanași (great round donuts filled with sweet cheese, topped with sour cream and cherry or blueberry jam; this would be The Dessert), clătite cu dulceață (En. jam pancakes), clătite cu brânză și stafide (En. cheese and raisin-filled pancakes), tort (En. cake, and this depends on what they have, usually it contains chocolate of some sort), plăcintă (En. pie, usually filled with cheese, pumpkin or apples), budincă cu brânză și stafide (En. cheese and raisin pudding). However there are special places one can go for a cake, called cofetărie (En. confectionery shop), where you have much more options. Other sweet options include the pastry sold in the street (see my special post), from small patiserie or plăcintărie shops, and all the way to the chocolate shop of the Capșa or Leonidas (the latter standing however for an expensive, not so tasty import). As for restaurants, the Capșa serves the best papanași, while Rossetya - the finest plăcintă. Even though not a traditional restaurant, Silviu’s baked apples with walnuts and honey are outstanding.