Bulgaria - VelikoTarnovo, November 2007
dogrose

There is something to be said for being an out-of-season tourist. There are the occasional disadvantages, especially in places like Tunisia where you are the only target for persistent souvenir sellers, but most of the time it can be a wonderful experience.

Quite often you get considerably reduced rates at hotels which you normally couldn’t afford and where you don’t need to book in advance because you are possibly the only guests, you have the tourist attractions all to yourself and can wander around at your leisure in an often more comfortable climate and you also have the undivided attention of the locals who are usually friendlier than in the height of season and are willing to sit and chat about their lives and country.

This is what we found when we visited the beautiful mountain town of Veliko Tarnovo in Bulgaria and lunched at the oldest mehana in town.

We were making our way down some precipitous steps at the side of the building which over looks the Yantra valley when the owner appeared out of a gate with a largish chunk of wood in her arms.
She was obviously pleased to see tourists in November and greeted us with cries of “Welcome, Welcome, please come, come” and scuttled back up the steps beckoning us to follow. We presumed she was the owner of a souvenir shop and as we were more interested in filling our stomaches than our suitcases we kept climbing down the steep steps. She carried on calling her cries of welcome and not wanting to appear rude we decided to take a look at what she had to offer, hoping to have a quick look around and make our escape.

She led us, not into a souvenir shop like we imagined, but a wonderful rustic taverna with a log fire in the corner which she fed with the piece of wood she had been carrying.
It was a cosy room dotted around with old pieces of Bulgarian life and a huge painting of what may have been a scene in the taverna many years ago (obviously by a famous painter as she said his name with pride but which unfortunately I didn’t quite hear).
She gestured to a table by the fire and as we settled in the warmth she hurried off to get menus.

As we perused what was on offer she suggested a dish of pork and sauerkraut, which she informed us wasn’t on the menu, and homemade pumpkin pie to follow. We took her up on her offer of the stew but declined the pie and within a few minutes two bowls of food were on the table in front of us.
The stew was luke warm, which seems to be quite common in Bulgaria, but tasted so good that we couldn’t resist but try the pie as well. It was a delicious mixture of filo pasty, pumpkin, walnuts and cinnamon not too dissimilar to a tart tatin.

As we were the only people in the tavera she took great delight in chatting away to us and although her English was pretty limited (and our Bulgarian non-existent) she had a dictionary in hand to help with words that she didn’t know.
She told us that she was 62, worked the place on her own, that she was waitress, cook and cleaner and that someone named Chico - maybe her husband or son - made the Rakia that she had offered us with our meal and which we had declined - well it was only one pm in the afternoon and the thought of negotiating the steps out side the building slightly worse for wear didn’t bear thinking about.

She loved music especially Elton John and Boy George and made a limp wristed gesture that is obviously universal as she jiggled around the room laughing.
She took great pleasure in informing us that she had once served Edith Piaf although she didn’t say if she had dined on pork and sauerkraut and pumpkin pie. You don’t know what you might have missed Edith and, if still alive today, might have sung a different song “one, one regret - I only have one regret”!

After I’d explained to her that I was a cook too she led me to the kitchen where she explained to me how to make the pumpkin pie, bringing down the ingredients off the shelves for me to recognise and asking the names in English.

It was a lovely experience and a memorable meal which certainly could not have happened in the summer where she would have been rushed off her feet serving the hordes of tourist who want to eat in the oldest tavera in town.

The Starata Mehana can be found at Stefan Stambolov opposite the old post office in the old part of town (look out for a viewing platform of the valley between two Etched walls of buildings. The tavana is down the steps at the side of the platform). Enjoy!