In the latest issue of food mag Afisha Yeda, the indefatigable editor of culture magazine Bolshoi Gorod, Phillip Dzyadko, wrote a beautiful and stirring account of a visit to Georgia (the country). In a very adroit stylistic move, Dzyadko eschews a linear narrative in favor of list upon list of images: an unending parade of dishes that fill a banquet table; the pungent aromas of a market place (garlic, manure, tangerines, grass); an evening of toasts—to friends, to friends of friends, and to the friends of friends of friends. Together, the images paint an atavistically romantic portrait of the oft-eulogized Caucasus nation.
Many of the more conventional sequences are equally poignant. The author runs through the pouring rain along a stream lined with green stones, surrounded by hills and, in the distance, taller peaks. Before one of the epic meals he endures, he travels with the event’s host, a Georgian artist, to witness the slaughter of the lamb they will divide into kebabs and roasts for the meal. As he waits, Dzyadko hugs a quince tree, watching out of the corner of his eye as the butcher slits the animal’s throat, with, Dzyadko writes, a “biblical calm”.
Some may cringe rather than cry at the great swelling of emotion that carries the author through the trip. There are certainly moments that seem overwrought. I found myself on the verge of both reactions as I read, but because one is so rarely moved to tears when reading, by the end I felt admiration and a gently radiating rapture. Even though he gives little concrete information about the country (he doesn’t bother citing many place names and eats almost exclusively at private homes), the splendor of his descriptions evokes that ephemeral bliss, that feeling of fullness and connection to a place, that the best travels inspire.
For those who read Russian, you can check out the article here.
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