What to eat when you come to Mongolia

It’s likely in the months, weeks, days, hours, or minutes before you enter the country, you will read some literature on things like customs, language, travel destinations, and accommodations. Don’t forget about the most basic of necessities, and I don’t mean the toilet, which is also important but a completely different topic (though somewhat related to the digestive process) – food.

Of course it is obvious that Mongolia food will be different than “traditional” American food. American food includes such delicacies as Big Macs, Whoppers, and Pizza Hut Meat Lover’s Pizza. Mongolia has none of the aforementioned, though I believe the Meat Lover’s Pizza would be a smashing success as meat is the only food group mentioned on the Mongolian Government’s Food “Pyramid”. Ok, I can’t fool you. It’s not really a pyramid if there’s only one food group. When I first came two years ago, I ate as much meat as I could to “become one” with the culture. Three sheep, two weeks, and one bowel movement later, we were at a restaurant that served “vegetable soup”. I was ecstatic because the only vegetable-like things I had seen were growing on or around cow pies (which is not a food group). After a millisecond of consideration, I ordered the vegetable soup. When it arrived, it had two large chunks of fat, some extra chewy sheep meat (commonly referred to as “mutton”, but not to be confused with “lamb”), a lot of grease, a potato the size of an eyeball (but there wasn’t an eyeball in it), and one of those baby carrots Americans are so fond of. Needless to say, the vegetable soup just meant it was the same sheep soup with a vegetable or two thrown in.

There are other traditional Mongolian meals to choose from if the vegetable soup doesn’t tickle your fancy. One such meal is buuz, or “dumplings”. These little guys are generally the size of a toddler’s fist, and nearly as tasty. The outside is “flour” (it’s sort of like dough, but in the end it’s steamed, so a different consistency than dough), stuffed inside is meat of some variety – mutton, beef, or horse. My personal favorite is, well, none of them. I will sample, and then pass them on to my Mongolian husband. If you don’t have a Mongolian husband, you may be in trouble. When you visit a family, whether in a ger or an apartment, they watch you like a hawk to see your reaction to their treats. It’s important to practice your poker face before going out. It’s truly an art. But about the buuz, if you are a big fan of dough, grease, meat, and fat, you’ll love this traditional food. If you like a little bit more grease than the typical buuz can offer, make sure you come in the summertime when the buuz is shaped differently and deep-fat-fried into a traditional food called huushuur.

Huushuur also contains the same meats that buuz does. Both of these meals are quite intricately made. On several occasions, I have “helped” make them (this means I watched). First the “flour” is rolled out (it’s more like a pie crust, however). They work it like you would work a pizza crust, then let it stand a while. While it stands, it’s important to prepare the “meat” (or entrails, or on some occasions -- believe it or not -- vegetables!). This involves one hunk (if you want to try the recipe, a hunk doesn’t equal Brad Pitt but rather one-fourth of a leg of sheep) of meat (your choice), onion, and about two pounds (that’s just a little short of one kilogram, if you’re reading this from somewhere other than the USA or Great Britain). While this is simmering (or burning) on the stove top, it’s time to roll out the flour. Roll, roll, roll away and then form it into something of a skinny log. If you have a little kid around, they seem to be the best at this as they have small hands. Your kiddo helper should slice off a piece about the size of an infant’s fist (there are no such thing as measuring cups here, that’s why I’m trying to wean you of exact measurements such as 1.2542 ounces of salt, etc.). He or she will then proceed to roll it out like a miniature pie crust. Place the meat on the pie crust. Next is the part that makes huushuur or buuz like an art – sealing up the dumpling. I suck at it. Mine turns out like a glob, but the Mongolian women can make it look as though it is actually stitched shut. They are quite beautiful, which is why I don’t like to eat them (that and the taste). Finally, after you have made about 3,405 (odd numbers are important) of them as they do around Tsagaan Sar (Lunar New Year, White Month, a whole ‘nother topic), you steam the buzz or deep-fat-fry the huushuur.

Now you have enough information to prepare a small Mongolian meal. If you have ever eaten at the restaurant called “The Mongolian Grill”, you will see what a huge farce that is. At no point in time while you are in Mongolia do you get to walk through a buffet line and select things like pineapple and shrimp and douse them in sweet’n’sour sauce and then cook them on a really cool grill. However, this restaurant does get one thing right. The gigantic grill did originate in Mongolia, as did many other modern miracles (yet another topic!). Chinggis Khaan (or Genghis Khan to the western world) ruled almost all of Asia and a good portion of Europe for some years. His men didn’t have a lot of time for buffet lines or McDonalds, so they would cook their food on their shields. If they didn’t have time for the grills, they would drink horse blood straight (in the 20th century the Russians brought vodka, which helped things considerably) carrying it in something like a canteen. I’ll get you the recipe for Mongolia’s finest horse blood… next time.