Ćevapi is a Yugoslavian dish, served from Belgrade to Split, but we've never seen it in such heavy quantities as we have here. In Travnik, a crowded alley of tables and sweating waiters is hung thick with smoke and the smell of charring meat. Ćevapi is like a skinless sausage, grilled and served in thick loaves of bouncy bread. It's mildly spicy, heavy with fat, a perfect combination of salt and heat. We were told repeatedly, by people in other towns, to go to Hari, a Travnik institution. The tables were full, the meat was good, the plates were garnished only with a pile of chopped onion. This is, in practice, the national dish.
At this cheese shop in Travnik, the smell of milk was overpowering. The white-coated proprietor gravely sliced and spooned and carved us tastes from his various wheels and tubs.
animals were stretched into gruesome lines; legs extended behind, skull pierced by metal, ribs tied shut around the pole. Beside water or in thick forest, with picnic tables or ironed linen, these jagnjetina restaurants all had something of the ancient about them, a primal treatment of meat.
This is how it arrives on the table at Vrelo Restoran, near Vlašic. The meat is saltier closer to the outside and untouched by seasoning or technique further in. It's a perfect way to cook lamb. The meat stays richly juicy and chewy. This isn't braised, fall apart, mushy meat that has been tamed in a pot - it requires a little tearing, a willingness to confront the beast itself.
Mozak, or fried veal brain, is one of the most common dishes on Bosnian menus. At Srebrna Školjka, a restaurant above the meat and cheese market in Sarajevo, I figured the brains would be the freshest. They arrived in two fatty lobes, lightly battered and piping hot. The mayonnaise was superfluous, as the tenor of the dish is already soft and oily. It needed only a squeeze of lemon and a firm commitment - after a few bites, my trepidation was gone.
There was no real need, but at Titanic restaurant I ate thick slices of veal liver beside the Lašva river. The portly waiter approved heartily, the meal was weighty and I left feeling that I'd had enough liver for a few months. I'll leave Bosnia feeling the same about meat in general, but that's fine.
as Rebecca has already written - are delicious, and (along with the plentiful wild mushrooms) have been a lifesaver for her in such seas of beef and lamb.
At Buregdžinica Sač, in Sarajevo's old town, the pita is cooked under a sač, a kind of coal-covered, iron cover. We ate a special type called tikvenica, filled with creamy pumpkin and cheese. The women there, standing in the sweltering heat near the ovens, cut big slices which they weighed on an old scale before wrapping in paper. It's greasy, it's filling, it's too hot to eat for several minutes, and it tastes like nothing else.
You have read this article Bosnia and Herzegovina / Food with the title Bosnian Food. You can bookmark this page URL http://africathoughts.blogspot.com/2012/08/bosnian-food.html. Thanks!