MAKE PLOV, NOT WAR

BY ARI LEVAUX

Plov is a hearty and meaty ricebased meal from Central Asia. The dish is widely considered the progenitor of rice pilaf and a cousin to paella. Native to present-day Uzbekistan, plov has spread throughout the former Soviet republics, where it varies by region. Some renditions include chickpeas. Azerbaijani plov contains dried fruit. Ukrainian plov is often made with chicken. But every plov will include carrots, onions, garlic and some kind of meat. It’s traditionally prepared in a large, shallow pan called a kazan. A heavy wok, large frying pan or Dutch oven is probably the closest approximation that most of us have in the kitchen.

Legend has it that Alexander the Great commissioned the world’s first batch of plov as a way to feed his soldiers once in the morning and keep them nourished and strong all day. Like many myths, it contains elements of truth. Plov does fill you up and keep you satisfied and can be made in batches large enough to feed an army. But I believe plov has potential for peacemaking instead.

I first learned how to make plov at a dinner party hosted by a group of Uzbek businessmen who were visiting my hometown. They drank tea and murmured peacefully in the kitchen as they slowly prepared their dish, filling the house with the aroma of cumin, coriander, bay leaves, garlic and meat. It was a beautiful scene but sullied by the sexism attached to the dish. The plov-makers made it clear that its preparation is man’s work. I asked why women can’t make it.

“If a woman wants to eat plov,” one of then explained patiently, “she must order her husband or her brother to make it. That way, she can eat with pleasure. If you want to eat something that is prepared perfectly, you must have the master prepare it. Man is the master of plov.”

The party was full of nationals from many former Soviet countries with names ending in -stan, like Turkmenistan and Kyrgyzstan. These folks had strong opinions on plov. One guest from Tajikistan told me she thought women wouldn’t add enough meat if they were in charge of the plov.

If we are going to mess around with gender stereotypes, it’s worth pointing out that most wars are planned and orchestrated by men. Given that reality, getting the menfolk to drink tea and make plov, rather than war, might not be the worst idea. If only Russian and Ukrainian diplomats could hang out together around a simmering kazan of plov, talking quietly as the rice, meat and spices work their way toward a balance, they could find a way toward a peaceful end to their conflict. If men can make plov together, they can make peace together.