Essay
By Noam Backner
The King of Cuisines: Central Asian Plov
When the sun dips below the mountains and the cold begins to bite, nothing warms the soul like a steaming bowl of something rich and fatty.

At the end of the day, when the sun sinks below the mountains and frozen shadows creep into the crevices of one’s fingers, nothing warms the belly like a steaming bowl of something rich and fatty. If it is a lucky day and the mistress of the house has a bit of rice and a few pieces of meat to spare, the fire is lit under the kazan. Soon, the aroma of rendered fat, cumin, and fragrant rice carries for miles, tempting passersby from near and far. Today, plov is served.
Plov is the Russian name for the flagship of Central Asian cuisine. The word alone evokes deep, warm memories for anyone from the former Soviet Union. Versions of the dish are as numerous as the ethnic groups inhabiting the vast expanse between Western China and Anatolia, Moscow and Kabul.
Kabuli pulao, for instance, often features raisins and sometimes almonds, walnuts, or a few golden threads of saffron. Among the Tatars of Russia, beef is common. The Uyghurs of Xinjiang prepare a relatively simple poluo with thick chunks of yellow carrot, occasionally dressing it up with raisins or a few chickpeas.
While there are as many variations as there are peaks in Central Asia, the "standard" version—familiar in the cities of Fergana and across Uzbekistan and Tajikistan—is a wonderful rendition of lamb and plenty of onions and carrots, properly browned in fat and cottonseed oil and seasoned with cumin and coriander seeds.
Plov is thought to have originated in Iranian culture, where it is called polo, but its exact origins remain shrouded in mystery. It may have evolved from ancient Indian or Iranian dishes made with barley, millet, wheat, or other grains.
Rice likely originated from a single domestication event in China’s Yangtze Valley about ten thousand years ago, gradually spreading to the Indian subcontinent and then westward. It only became a common crop in Central Asia during the first centuries AD, though reports of its cultivation in Bactria and the edges of the Iranian plateau appear during the conquests of Alexander the Great. Alexander reportedly enjoyed a properly cooked dish of plov served to him after the conquest of Maracanda (modern-day Samarkand) in 329 BC.
Alternatively, the 7th-century Chinese pilgrim Xuanzang reported rice cultivation in the Fergana Valley. The valley, particularly the Uzgen region in modern-day Kyrgyzstan, remains a source of superior rice with a starch content perfect for a proper plov.
Following the Islamic conquest, rice became relatively common, and many recipes appear in Abbasid-era cookbooks written primarily in Baghdad. One of the famous men of letters to write about plov was the Persian scholar Ibn Sina (Avicenna, 980–1037). He specified preparation methods and ingredients remarkably similar to those used today; Tajiks consider him not only a father of the nation but the father of modern plov itself.
The remaining components are truly local. The onion, an ancient staple of Middle Eastern and Central Asian cultures, serves as the dish's sweet foundation, joined by carrots that caramelize to concentrate their sugars. Carrots themselves were first domesticated right here in the neighborhood, on the Iranian plateau and in western Afghanistan. Their original color was likely purple or dark red until the orange variety was developed around the ninth century.
A good plov requires plenty of fat. Traditionally, the best fat comes from the tail of the Dumba sheep, a breed unique to West and Central Asia known for storing significant fat reserves in its hindquarters.
A charming 15th-century anecdote describes the shock of Niccolao Manucci, a Venetian physician in the service of the Mughal Emperor Babur, upon witnessing the eating habits of the Uzbek nobility. He reported that they would smear leftover fat from their fingers onto their faces after eating, and even complained that the food in Hindustan was poor because it contained too little fat and too much clarified butter (ghee).
For those who share the Italian gentleman's shock, remember that the sun beating down over Central Asia constantly cracks the skin. Speaking from experience, a good smear of fat helps one cope with the intense radiation.
While Central Asian cuisine boasts many triumphs, there is still no better meal than one found at a roadside restaurant, reclining on a wide wooden topchan under the shade of a mulberry or apricot tree. There, one can feast on mounds of fragrant plov accompanied by a fresh vegetable salad and large glasses of sweet compote. A true celebration, however, is a wedding feast where the plov is cooked in a massive, special-purpose kazan—a role traditionally reserved for men—and distributed to hundreds of guests who devour it happily alongside plenty of vodka shots.
I received the following recipe for a basic plov from a dear Tajik friend. It can be upgraded with chickpeas and dried fruits like raisins, barberries, or almonds, or virtually any other ingredient you prefer.
Ingredients:
- 2 cups round rice, washed well; - 2 large white onions, thinly sliced; - 6 or 7 large carrots, cut into matchsticks; - 1 cup lamb meat; - approx. 1/2 cup lamb fat; - approx. 1/2 cup oil; - 1/4 teaspoon cumin seeds; - 1 teaspoon salt; - 3 cups hot water; - 1 head of garlic.
Preparation: 1. Fry the fat and meat in a kazan or a wide, heavy pot with the oil; remove once browned.
2. Add the onion to the pot and fry until golden. Add the carrots and continue frying, stirring every few minutes. Once the carrots are soft and beginning to melt, return the meat to the pot and stir. Add the whole head of garlic and the cumin seeds, stirring until the aroma rises.
3. Spread the rice in an even layer over the meat and vegetables. Pour in the water, add salt, and cover. Once the water level drops below the rice, lower the heat.
4. When the rice is half-cooked, poke "chimneys" into the rice with a spoon handle and lower the flame to the absolute minimum. Wait 20 minutes. Do not stir.
5. Once the rice is soft, remove from the heat. Arrange the rice in a beautiful mound on a large tray and pile the vegetables and meat on top. Garnish with chopped coriander or parsley if desired.
Best served with a fresh vegetable salad and green tea.
Bon appétit!




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