A Craving for Kyrgyzstan
As I take another hesitant sip of the fermented mare’s milk, I concede with some regret that it is an acquired taste I am unlikely to acquire. Kumis, as this brew is called, is popular across Central Asia and regarded as a national drink in Kyrgyzstan. I had expected something similar to kefir or buttermilk. But no. Viscous, sour, and mildly alcoholic, kumis, to my taste buds at least, is like a fizzy liquid version of Poland’s pungent oscypek cheese — definitely not for the faint of palate.
It’s seven in the morning at our guesthouse in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan’s Soviet-built capital, on our first day in the country. That’s perhaps too early an hour for an introduction to kumis, but it doesn’t stop us from appreciating the first show of Kyrgyz hospitality that will accompany us for the rest of the trip. In the breakfast room, a brightly patterned tablecloth is piled with delectables: homemade preserves, cream, and honey in crystal bowls; a platter of juicy apricots and plums;; crepes and crispy blinis. Our hostess, a genial woman with little English but plenty of charm, plies us with black tea from a silvery samovar.
