When I first stepped into the Tashkent Supermarket in Brighton Beach, I could barely get around. The store was bustling, packed with the familiar unsmiling faces of post-Soviet people eager to get their hands on foods like manty – intricately shaped dumplings filled with minced beef, onion and, depending on where you’re from, pumpkin for the subtle sweetness. Or chak-chak, a dessert made of small pieces of fried golden dough held together by honey syrup. Kompot, too, a drink made by simmering seasonal or dried fruits.
Growing up in Kazakhstan, these were staples in school cafeterias and at home. Manty was one of the first dishes my mom taught me to make – I thought she was a magician, the way she rolled the stretchy dough out so wide and thin, yet thick enough to hold the filling without tearing. I was rarely allowed to have soda or sugary drinks, but homemade kompot with fruits and berries from our garden was an exception. And though I never mastered chak-chak, the store-bought version was always a treat. As I got older and traveled across other former Soviet republics, I found comfort in knowing I would always find plov and samsas at eateries in Moscow, Baku and Tbilisi.
