Bulgarian food

Whether you're a newcomer or a veteran expat in Bulgaria, you'd have noticed it already – the local wining and dining scene, in the cities at least, is anything but short of places. Perhaps Bulgarians' die-hard habit of unwinding among friends, salads and rakiya has a lot to do with it. It also explains the huge numbers in restaurants on week nights. What Vagabond's group of diners outlined in 2008 was the diversity of choices on offer despite any expectations to the contrary.

I am sitting in the courtyard of the unnamed eatery in the village of Leshten, on the western slopes of the Rhodope. The view before me is magnificent – the sun is setting over the Pirin, and its last rays colour in dark red the nearby mud-and-wood houses. The home-made rakiya I've tasted is probably the best in southwestern Bulgaria, the shopska has been made with hand-picked pink tomatoes, and the white cheese is simply fabulous.

A man of perhaps 80 slowly comes up the path to the restaurant. “Hi,” he says.

I came to Bulgaria as a hospitality industry expert, and gastronomy is an important aspect of my work. People hire me to open their hotels, provide consultation for their tourism projects or simply for my opinion on various matters. Clients rely on my professional help, which is based on the international experience that I have gained working on many different projects and at my own restaurant in Switzerland (www.restaurantpalace.ch).

Everyone living and working in a multicultural environment is aware that each country has its own specifics as to the ways of communication, business practices and even leisure. In my years-long work at the German-Bulgarian Chamber of Industry and Commerce, I have had the opportunity to gain first-hand experience in this. My German partners make a distinct difference between the professional and the personal, whereas for Bulgarian business people this line is blurred and personal contacts are given somewhat greater weight.

The first time I came to Bulgaria, I entered via the dusty no-man's land between Giurgiu and Ruse. Standing all alone on the edge of Romania, I watched as shifty-eyed travellers shoved contraband cigarettes into their luggage and trekked down an unpaved road towards the border. From my vantage point, Bulgaria did not look terribly inviting.

Since then, my view of this country has changed dramatically. I've spent so much time here over the past three years that I now consider it my second home. And for me, feeling truly comfortable in a place involves eating like a local.

During my twenties, most of which I spent in Manhattan, eating out was as much a part of my lifestyle as riding the subway or paying rent that I could barely afford. To live amongst such an embarrassment of culinary riches and not take advantage would have been, well, embarrassing. I happily joined my fellow New Yorkers in waiting two hours for a table at a favourite brunch spot or being snubbed by a snooty waiter at a chic Soho bistro.

It's embarrassing now, but I, a Greek, confess that before coming here I enquired if Sofia had any “real” restaurants or “real” bars. Now, when visitors ask, I am appalled at their prejudice. But soon they realise there are plenty and all at good value for money.

Having now been an ambassador to Sofia for a couple of years, I am still surprised at the large and utterly varied choice of restaurants that you can find in this capital city. It is also continuously increasing. There are very nice places to be found for all tastes and budgets.

My wife is probably the best cook in Sofia! However, since my own access to it almost certainly depends on not extending an open invitation to everyone, I'll merely confine myself to my personal experiences of dining out in the capital.

When one Bulgarian housewife wants to insult another, she doesn't accuse her in public of neglecting her garden – Bulgarian gardens grow tomatoes, not honeysuckle. She simply calls her a zagoritendzhera, a “woman who has burned her pot”.

Diplomats' culinary discoveries are often restricted by the profession. Either I'm the host – and my Bulgarian and foreign guests expect to be taken to grand hotels or to a rather limited selection of restaurants – or I'm invited and the same applies to me. Consequently, magical opportunities to discover the joys of Bulgarian scenery and food arise only during free time. This is particularly frustrating as my hobby is cookery and I'm a member of two societies – Slow Food and Chaîne des Rôtisseurs – which should motivate me to explore Bulgaria's culinary world more seriously.

I was pleasantly surprised that I was able to understand many restaurant menus in Sofia without knowing much Bulgarian. Kyufte, kavarma, sarmi, shkembe and baklava were among the dishes familiar to me, coming from Turkey. But discovering new tastes in delightful Bulgarian cuisine proved to be equally pleasant. I knew from the very beginning that I was going to enjoy Bulgaria's food and so far I haven't been disappointed.

The fact that I have a rather large appetite and don't cook at home means that after 18 months in Sofia I have numerous dining spots and bars to share with you. I'll try to cover the best of the expensive as well as the more modestly priced eateries.

If you need information on Bulgaria, its culture and its people, then get yourself a good guide book. But if you want to find out if its views are realistic you can do no better than check out the places yourself. My husband and I have been in Sofia for about five months now and we've already discovered many fine places to wine and dine. And we have also learnt a lot about Bulgarians through our culinary expeditions.

Many years ago a Frenchman, dining in a restaurant in the Golden Sands resort, vociferously demanded that the waiter should take away, s'il vous plait, the cold soup that he had served for lunch - and heat it. The waiter tried to dissuade him. So did the chef. But the man insisted and finally received the soup as he wanted it - warm.

"Under new management". The inference intended in this sign is that the food, service and whole ambience will be better than whatever existed before, and the sign itself illustrates the impermanence of reputations in the restaurant business. However, the places mentioned below have stood my personal test of four or five years, and hopefully will continue za godini.

Take one Bulgarian domakinya, or housewife, a wooden table adorned with traditional red tablecloth, a plentiful green salad, rakiya on hand, (cigarettes close by, for most) and plenty of free time. Allow to mix for several hours, and enjoy.

Whether it be suckling pig in Kovachevitsa, caviar by the Black Sea, calf's head in Sofia, or chicken's bottoms in Kozloduy, Bulgaria has it all and more, as we discovered after more than two years of careful research in this country of far-flung culinary delights.

After 18 months of serious research, I do not think I have even scratched the surface of Bulgarian cuisine, but I have had some memorable meals along the way. It's tough, but someone's got to do it.

Every nation's folklore probably has a special section of proverbs relating to eating and drinking. The Bulgarians are no exception, though the essence of our wisdom throughout the centuries has given expression more to our problems than to our everyday pleasures. Anyway, let me try to take you on a culinary tour of this country with the help of some lesser known sayings from a "people's guidebook".

"When he goes out, the dogs will follow him to lick him"