Writer Ed Placidi is always game for immersing himself into the authentic cuisine of the destinations he visits. He does what we all should when we visit someplace new – meet the locals, shop where they shop, eat where they eat, and take cooking classes whenever possible, learning what’s behind their local cuisine. This article is a perfect example, as Ed shares his experiences in Albania, thoroughly experiencing Albanian cuisine.

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The Experience of Albanian Cuisine:
I Ate my Way Across Fully Open Albania

 “Enjoy!” It was an exclamation I would hear countless times. “Even if we serve only a glass of water, we say enjoy,” my waiter explained “It’s our tradition in Albania, and our way of welcoming guests.”

After a lost year, I was finally on the road again ‒ eating my way across Albania! And it was especially delicious because the country is fully open: no Covid test to enter, no mask required.

A  communist dictatorship that endured half a century, the country completely closed during that time, finally collapsed in the early 1990s, followed by civil strife. In the 20+ years since, Albania has made great strides, becoming an exceptionally hospitable, safe and enjoyable destination with so much to see and do ‒ and eat!

Many Albanians told me how much better life is today, and particularly the abundance of food compared to 30 years ago. Indeed, good food is a highlight of visiting today’s Albania, including an array of tantalizing, indigenous dishes not found elsewhere. There is no gourmet pretense in Albania. Preparations are surprisingly simple, but food is tasty, enjoyable, satisfying, and at times mouth-watering because of the freshness and quality of the ingredients.

Restaurants serve dishes on platters, echoing Albania’s tradition of eating family style. The exceptions are arguably the favorite traditional meals: casseroles, brought steaming hot from the oven in individual ceramic dishes.

On the wood terrace of Taverna E Vjeter (Old Tavern) in Kruja, overlooking the wooden shops of the Old Bazaar and in the shadow of the famous castle where Albania’s national hero made a last stand against the invading Ottomans, I tried Speca Me Gjige. Just goat cheese, tomatoes and bell peppers, the casserole was deceptively simplistic, but it packed a big flavor with the bubbling, browned cheese on top pairing perfectly with the sweet vegetables.

Speca Me Gjige from the Taverna E Vjeter, Kruja.

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Other popular casseroles in Albanian cuisine also have just a few ingredients: Tave Dheu combines strips of beef, tomato sauce and the ubiquitous, salty feta-like white cheese (popular for breakfast, on salads, in fast-food, etc.) It was delicate and flavorful, with a salty blast. At Mapo Restaurant, in Gjirokastra, an UNESCO World Heritage site known as Albania’s “museum city,“ I sampled tave kosi, roasted lamb baked with eggs and yogurt. A little like a quiche, a little like a meat pie, a bit crusty like a well-done grilled cheese, it was savory, delicious and fun to eat. I also ordered grilled vegetables, a typical accompaniment to meats, that were dressed with just olive oil and a sweet vinegar. Then the proprietor did something common in Albania: brought a complimentary treat, a honeyed plum for dessert dripping with fruity sweetness. It was the perfect finish to a savory meal.

Tave Dheu from the Taverna E Vjeter in Kruja.

“We have a very simple kitchen in Albania using only a few herbs and spices and a small list of ingredients,” explained Arjita, the owner of Oda Restaurant in Tirana, the capital. “But our food is very flavorful because everything is so fresh and natural.” Oda is a small eatery in a back alley but with a big reputation for the quality of its traditional food because they do it the old fashioned way:  “We slow cook our food at Oda in a wood-burning oven, as was done before gas and electric stoves.”

The Palillxhan I Mbushur me Perime, eggplant stuffed with vegetables, at Oda was to die for. The intense, deep flavor is created by first slowly sautéing tomato, onion, eggplant, garlic, parsley and oregano in olive oil, then slow cooking for  about 1½ hours. Mish Qinqji në Sac was the ultimate in simplicity: rub the lamb with salt, cook in the wood oven up to four hours. The result: tender, succulent meat with unadulterated lamb flavor.

Palillxhan i Mbushur me Perime – vegetable stuffed eggplant.

At Mangalemi Restaurant, set in the remains of the palace of the Ottoman Pasha of Berati, another UNESCO World Heritage site, I dined on “meatballs.” That‘s the translation anyway on menus for an Albanian favorite, Had Qofte Ne Skarë: ground veal blended with garlic, oregano, chili pepper, salt and pepper. Flat and elliptical not spherical, cooked on a wood-fired grill, and served with potato slices caramelized in the oven, they were savory, umami joy. I paired the meatballs with Sallati Ulliri, olive salad, my favorite among the many salads on most menus: green and black olives, small pieces of tart lemon and sweet orange with the rind on, green onions, olive oil and vinegar – a synergy of deliciously contrasting flavors. Following dinner I joined the exuberant evening promenade along the river lined with intact 18th-century Turkish houses (the reason for Berati’s UNESCO  designation).

Qofte Me Skare, meatballs from the Restaurant Mangalemi in Berat.

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“We have never had so many American guests,” the owner of Mangalemi told me. “Probably because Albania is the only country in Europe completely open for tourism. Americans are number one at the moment.” Actually, we are always number one in one sense: when asked my nationality, my response always brought an outpouring of support and excitement. One gentleman clapped, another said “America is like our father.” One reason Americans are loved: the U.S. came to the rescue of their ethnic-Albanian brothers in Kosovo during the George W. Bush administration, and there are bakeries, ice cream shops and more named for him.

Albanians cherish their Qifqe rice balls, sometimes called risotto balls since they’re made with arboreal rice. At Taverna Tradicionale in Gjirokastra, Juliano, promoting their rating on Trip Advisor, talked me into sitting down at their modest family eatery for qifqe ‒ it’s “mama’s secret recipe,” he proclaimed. Juliano immediately set a  shot glass in front of me with a deep red liquid. It was intoxicating without being alcoholic, like drinking an old spice bazaar. He said it has cloves, cinnamon and sugar but the other ingredients are, of course, “mama’s secret recipe.” Served with a dipping sauce of homemade yogurt drizzled with olive oil,  the qifqe were crunchy, chewy and enjoyable but short of sensational. Then Juliano brought another complimentary treat: apple slices drenched with honey and cinnamon.

Qifqe Rice Balls from Taverna Tradicional.

No snapshot of the Albanian kitchen would be complete with mentioning the abundant seafood from nearly 300 miles of coastline on the Ionian and Adriatic seas. The abundance was on display at Rozaya Seafood in the castle-topped town of Shkodra. You are greeted by an array of fish and shellfish on ice, choose whatever whets your appetite and the chef prepares it  whichever way you want. I had a firm, flaky white fish ‒ reminded me of flounder, but I couldn’t find an English translation ‒ that was lightly breaded, perfectly grilled and splashed with lemon and olive oil (yes, super basic, but so fresh and delicious).

Taverna Kapedani, the Captain’s Tavern, at the beach resort of Saranda, is aptly named: “My father is the captain of our boat and we catch everything ourselves for the restaurant,” explained the son, Andi. “We want people to enjoy what we bring back from the sea every day,” he added, and apparently they do because the place was packed mid-week in low season. My fish fry was a dozen whole fish including cod, sole, and red bream, breaded, fried, and drizzled with olive oil and lemon (yes, preparations are repetitive). The fish soup starter was a plunge into the sea, combining a base of aromatics (carrot, celery, onion), fish stock, fish and shellfish pieces, and of course drizzled with olive oil.

A fish fry at Taverna Kapedani in Saranda.

The Italian influence on Albanian cuisine – at the narrowest point, just 45 miles of sea separate the two ‒ is most apparent on the coast. At Summer Restaurant on the Saranda boardwalk, the Linguine Frutti di Mare was bursting with flavor, with a basic sauce of fresh tomato, garlic, parsley and olive oil, perfectly al dente pasta, smothered with mussels, squid, octopus and shrimp, with heavenly crusty ciabatta and a glass of typically fizzy local wine. I ate  watching an absolutely spectacular sunset – and I’m still not sure which was better, the sunset or the pasta.

Albanian Linguine Frutti di Mare at the Summer Restaurant.

There are so many other treats to indulge in on the road in Albania including: byrek, baked phyllo dough stuffed with spinach and cheese; fergese, a casserole of sweet peppers, tomatoes, onions, cottage cheese and herbs; and zupa, a thick custard topped with chocolate and walnuts, with cinnamon biscuits on the bottom.

Byrek is phyllo dough stuffed with spinach and cheese. 

In between meals and sightseeing, do what the Albanians do: wile away the hours gabbing, people watching and relaxing in an outdoor café, sipping espresso.  Albania must have more outdoor cafes per capita than any other country; they are ever present, and often full. Albanians not only savor their indigenous food but also the slower pace of life.

BONUS:

The Experience of Albanian Cuisine: Cooking Class

A Nostalgic Taste of  Albania’s Traditional Kitchen

“I love Albania” is a rough translation of Edua, explained owner Manjola Shihaj. And the name says it all: the combination boutique, restaurant and cooking school truly encapsulates her dreams and love of Albanian cooking and family traditions.

Majola Shehaz serving Osa with Lamb in Gijrocaster.

“My desk job was not satisfying or rewarding,” recalled the former economist and bank manager. “I felt the need to go back to my roots…to honor and celebrate my famous hometown and my childhood days there with my grandmother, who would cook traditional Albanian casseroles for the family in large ceramic dishes brought directly from the oven to the table.”

Manjolo followed her heart, but didn’t forget her economist training: “I chose Gjirokastra for my business because new potential customers arrive daily, especially in summer.” The small city is an UNESCO World Heritage Site, celebrated for its Ottoman-era architecture, and one of the country’s most visited destinations.

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Edua sells a cornucopia of Albania’s traditional and best natural food and drink, sourcing from farmers in her hometown – the mountain village of Zagoria, known for producing exceptionally flavorful, high-quality ingredients ‒ as well as the Gjirokastra region and elsewhere in Albania. The packaging and décor, best described as sophisticated country chic, are unique in this tiny Balkan nation. On the shelves are  olive oils, dried fruits, marmalades, wines, pastas, teas, dried herbs, honeys and more ‒ plus of course raki, the wildly popular brandy that is homemade by numerous farmers as well as in many homes. Edua carries 15 varieties of the 38-40 proof beloved national beverage made with an array of fruits and herbs, including smooth juniper, sweet blackberry, baked (meaning distilled twice) honey and cinnamon, and fiery mountain tea raki.

Bags of herbs in a shop in Edua.

Upstairs, Edua Restaurant also breaks the mold: no menu, instead only several daily specials that are traditional dishes, using products from the store in combination with what is fresh and seasonal. And then there’s the cooking school, using the restaurant kitchen. Again, Manjola doesn’t follow the usual recipe: the class she was offering when I was there was preparing an almost lost dish, with only a fading oral record probably going back several centuries. Not only was it obscure, simplistic and labor intensive, but also very difficult to make back home – that is, without creating your own shoshi, an Albanian pasta-making tool.

Edua’s chef, Marietta Karagjozi, is from one of Gjirokastra’s oldest families – and among the few who remember the recipe for Osa me Mesh Qengji (osa pasta with lamb). Describing herself as a non-professional cook but passionate about Albanian culinary traditions and especially dishes served in homes and on farms, Marietta recalls when an entire village population would work together for days to make pasta for the entire year – including osa, the little pasta dots in this recipe.

Author Ed Placidi, right, with his cooking class instructor, Marietta Karagjozi, learning how to make Osa.

Osa is hard work: 15 minutes of combining, working, kneading the dough on a Qer, a wood board used only for making pasta. There are four ingredients ‒ flour, melted butter, eggs and salt ‒ plus one secret ingredient: ash water.  Ashes from a wood fire are boiled in water, and a few tablespoons added to the dough purportedly make it pliable and fluffy.

Cooking the Osa with sauteed onions, water, and lamb jus.

Once Marietta had confirmed the dough was adequately firm, the even harder work began: rubbing balls of the dough over a shoshi, a metal pan punched with rough holes. Ten minutes resulted in 100s of small pasta pieces, or osa.  We then sautéed chopped onions in olive oil, added the osa, several tablespoons of lamb jus and enough water to cover, and cooked for 10 minutes. Then, after nestling in several bone-in pieces of lamb, it went into the oven at 400◦ for 15 minutes. The lamb had to be prepared in advance because, in the traditional Albanian way, it’s simply rubbed with salt and slow cooked for four hours.

The finished dish, Osa Me Mish Qengi.

Manjola served the Osa me Mesh Qengji with: a refreshing salad of local seasonal greens topped with strawberries, figs, walnuts and a dressing of citrus juices and olive oil; a lip-smacking wild Elderflower tea from the hills of Gjirokastra with lemon and honey; plus shots of  strong but flavorful mountain tea and mulberry raki.

The lunch was served the traditional Albanian way on serving platters and you spoon a portion on your plate. The osa was delicious: chewy yet light and fluffy, redolent with lamb jus and freshened with a sprinkling of fresh dill. The lamb was perfectly cooked and savory, though also plain to a fault.

For a few wistful hours, I got a nostalgic taste of fading Albanian village life. Today’s Albanians can now buy osa in a package at Edua.

For more information about visiting Albania, here’s their website.

— Story and photos by Ed Placidi

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