The first thing you notice in Uzbekistan is that the men do the cooking. After Russia, where the girls either can’t cook or won’t cook, it’s a welcome sign.

When you prepare food, your energy, your soul, goes into a meal. Your vibes are as pervasive as polonium in a sushi bar. So often in Russia a meal is prepared by a Babushka who’s been kicked into the kitchen. Which is why FSU food often tastes like a grudge against society.

Uzbek Plov, however, is a charge for chauvinistic chefs. It isn’t difficult, it’s a peasant dish. But you will need a good, heavy, thick-bottomed pan with a tight-fitting lid.

Tak, pashli. Chop a couple of onions. Slice a couple of carrots - diagonal strips are traditional. Then cube some meat - lamb, pork, chicken whatever. Count at least 100 grams per person.
Fry the meat, carrots and onions in lots of olive oil on a high heat. Then add a cup of stock with the herbs. In Russia you can buy a ready-mix pack of Plov seasoning. If you’re somewhere else, use garlic, a generous teaspoon of cumin and the same of turmeric. Yellow and fragrant rather than spicy is the keynote, though some people like to add a little curry or chili powder and dried apricots too. Whatever.

Keep all this bubbling on a high heat until almost all the stock has reduced. Then you are ready for the rice.

Now, you must use old-fashioned, sticky rice, not the wimpy Uncle Ben’s stuff. Uncle Ben’s rice is like beautiful women - just too fluffy and precious for serious applications. Pour in three cups of water - bring to the boil - then add one cup of sticky starchy rice.

Bring to the boil again, then put the lid on tight and turn the gas down as low as it will go and leave for 20 minutes, or longer until all the liquid has been absorbed.

This is the simplest way I know of making Plov. If you don’t have a heavy- bottomed Uzbek woman waiting in a tight-fitting lid, you can take your time and be more adventurous. There’s an advanced Plov course at Stalik’s Live Journal.