Going North To Georgia

A few bites, and you'd swear you're dining at an eatery in one of Russia's neighboring lands

Story and photos by Benjamin Pomerance

From Plattsburgh, N.Y., you have to go north to reach Georgia. Not Georgia the state, land of humidity as heavy as an overcoat and peaches the size of softballs. Not Georgia the nation, either. Getting to the former Soviet Socialist Republic, located just west of the Russian Federation’s westernmost border, would require an airline ticket and probably a couple of lengthy layovers. Yet for someone around here hankering for a flavor of Georgia — the nation, not the state — without the urge to spend hours in the Moscow airport, an easier solution awaits. A drive north across the border into Montreal, over the Champlain Bridge and down the ever-congested Decarie Boulevard, will lead you Le Georgia, where a seat near the fire and a brimming bowl of borscht will have you feeling like you’re home again.

Or, in my case, home for the first time. My knowledge of Georgian culture is painfully limited; my knowledge of Georgian cuisine before dining at Le Georgia for the first time was absolutely nill. I recognized only two items on the menu — Chicken Kiev and Beef Stroganoff — and was told, after mentioning these two dishes to a very helpful waiter, that while these dishes were very good, they were the items that most Americans got because they had heard the names before. Guilty as charged.

Fearful of going down in history as “most Americans,” I ended up selecting neither the Chicken Kiev nor the Beef Stroganoff. Instead, my parents and I, dining at Le Georgia on a surprisingly chilly March evening, asked our waiter to recommend his favorite selections…which he proceeded to do in great and helpful detail. With a lineup of meals featuring names I couldn’t even pronounce, much less interpret, having such a helpful culinary tour guide proved to be an invaluable resource, one that led us to an excellent dinner.

Which, in a way, sums up the most important aspect of dining at Le Georgia: Don’t be afraid. You’re among friends in this tiny oak-paneled dining room, where every one of the five tables is close to the fireplace and the servers have to run up and down the stairs to transport meals from the kitchen to your place setting. Yes — the menu uses the traditional Russian and Georgian names, although they provide a brief description in English and French after each item, and (at least on the night we were there) most of the other guests converse in a language other than English, but it’s all an experience to be embraced, not shied away from. Enjoy the cozy atmosphere, let the waiter trick you into trying to pronounce some Georgian words (and laugh with him when you mangle them), and enjoy a mini-vacation to the Republic of Georgia for the night.

On this particular night, our meal began with khatchapouri, an appetizer served to the entire table. The concept is simple: melted cheese contained within a shell of crusty baked dough, served piping hot. Indeed, the name itself is translated loosely as “cheese bread.” Yet in my mind, this dish puts traditional American grilled cheese to shame. Made with a combination of feta cheese and a pickled Georgian cheese called “sulguni”, a cousin of mozzarella with a slightly sharper taste, the cheeses are grated and then mixed with eggs before being baked inside the crust. The result is a very gooey, very rich, very delicious concoction. We ordered only one, just to try it…and liked it so much that we ordered a second small khatchapouri for the table after taking just a couple of bites.

We also shared a plate of pelmeni — little dumplings filled with ground meat and herbs. The shells of these dumplings were doughy, but the filling was delicious, enhanced by a savory mixture of spices. Eaten with sour cream, these little finger foods were excellent. And my father had to try a bowl of borscht, the beet-based soup for which Russia and its neighboring countries have become famous. The borscht came in a bowl so large that my mother and I also had ample opportunity to sample the rich, steamy broth. My father, who had tried borscht at the renowned Russian Tea Room in New York City several years ago, stated that this version of the soup was considerably better than the borscht he tried in New York.

Our entrees arrived on plates containing flavors so savory, you could smell the food coming before our waiter even made it to the top step of the kitchen-to-dining room stairwell. Mom tried chanahk, a pork dish that our waiter had listed among his favorite Georgian specialties. After sampling it, I can certainly see why he had recommended this dish so highly. Cooked with eggplant and assortment of vegetables, the pork was flavored with a spice — I think it may have been sage — that greatly enhanced the taste of the tender meat.    

My father’s main course, kharcho, featured a slowly cooked lamb as the primary attraction. It was brought to the table in a little pot, still simmering in a spiced — but not spicy — sauce, and accompanied by little containers of grated carrots, raw onions, and baby gherkin pickles to eat along with the lamb. Once again, our waiter’s recommendation had steered us down the correct path.

As for me, I decided on an entrée of rainbow trout, brought to the table whole —head, tail, and all. After receiving some instructions on how to remove the head and tail, I found the fish succulent to the taste, pan-seared and served with sautéed red peppers and onions. Certainly an ample portion, the trout left me sufficiently full…but still with just enough room left for dessert.

And what an interesting dessert it was. We shared an order of the Russian specialty blintchiki, thin pancakes served warm with cheese and raisins contained inside. We also sampled a Georgian specialty called tchourtchkhela — which was where our waiter convinced me to try and pronounce the word before he told me how to say it properly — which loosely translates as something like “cigars”. Truthfully, I had no idea what to expect. Yet it was wonderful. Long, tubular molds of honey and grape jelly (hence the “cigars” image) containing nuts, this dessert was somewhat similar to Jell-O, only not served cold and containing far more flavor than the American gelatin product. Those who are intrigued by reading this should certainly try it for themselves. Chances are, you won’t be disappointed.

We left Le Georgia that night with our stomachs full, our minds enlightened, and our wallets not terribly lighter for the experience. Inside that small chamber on Decarie Boulevard is a culinary adventure waiting to be had, full of wonderful new flavors and —best of all — people who enjoy sharing the tastes of their home culture with neophytes like myself. For someone who enjoys the experience of traveling to a foreign land for a night without ever setting foot on a plane, I highly recommend taking the chance to go north to Georgia.

What are your favorite Georgian recipes?

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