Tbilisi is a city of bread. This staple food has a permanent residency on every kitchen sideboard and a space on every modern table, and has been consumed in Georgia since the beginning of the 6th millennium BC. The demand for fresh bread has produced bakeries throughout the city; multiple in each area and sometimes as many as three along one street. A Tibilsian walking down the street carrying puri (bread) tucked under their arm should really be as emblematic as the baguette-bearing Parisian.

For a dish so ubiquitous, one would be forgiven to think there’s little to debate about Georgia’s national dumpling, the khinkali. But just as tastes vary, every Georgian has their own khinkali preferences and opinions. That’s certainly the case for chef Gela Arabuli, who believes khinkali has been gentrified and mass produced to a point where most people have forgotten the dumplings’ origins in the mountains and how they should really taste. “Real khinkali is from the high mountains. And there are no pigs in the mountains,” insists Gela, referring to the most popular and common filling of minced beef and pork in equal parts as kalakuri, or “city style,” khinkali.

January is a busy time in Georgia: following New Year’s Eve are two weeks of visits and celebrations with friends and family that culminate with what’s known as Old New Year on January 14. The Georgian Orthodox Church still uses the ancient Julian calendar, which sees Christmas falling on January 7th and New Year on January 14th, and while the Old New Year is now a smaller celebration than the one on December 31st, it still marks the end of the festive holiday period and is celebrated by feasting with loved ones. During the comings and goings in this period, sweet, diamond-shaped pieces of a walnut brittle called gozinaki are an obligatory part of the welcome for guests. “Gozinaki is so important to Georgian families for the New Year,” explains Irma Laghdaze, a cooking instructor in Tbilisi.

Salty, sticky, and above all pungent, dambalkhacho certainly isn’t for the fainthearted. But for iron-nostrilled khinkali-lovers, the soft, moldy cheese is one of the main attractions at Asi Khinkali, a cozy cellar restaurant in Tbilisi's Marjanishvili district. Made in the mountains, dambalkhacho is challenging to find in the city, but Asi Khinkali has it on the menu both fried and hidden inside their delicious khinkali. Friends Lasha Kozhrisvhili and Paata Jorjikia opened Asi Khinkali three years ago, right at the beginning of the Covid-19 pandemic. “At the start, we had a little space just for online takeaway orders and then we moved here two years ago,” explains manager, Levan Shadize.

From the bustling Melikishvili Avenue, we ascended a few steps to arrive at Praktika. The venue features three rooms adorned with white walls, well-worn parquet flooring, and standard-issue tables and chairs. Its resemblance to study rooms is no coincidence; Praktika is situated just a stone's throw away from Tbilisi State University, the city’s largest university, most of the customers are students, and the space is a former language school. The café’s humble appearance is not suprising. Praktika, which opened its doors in August 2022, owes its inception to a crowdfunding initiative led by the socialist movement Khma (meaning "voice" in Georgian). Its primary aim was to establish, as they put it, a “people’s café that will provide affordable and tasty food to students, workers, working students and everyone else in need.”

There’s no dish that signals in the arrival of spring and early summer in Georgia like the verdant tangy lamb stew called chakapuli. The spring dish, originally from the country’s wine growing eastern region of Kakheti, makes its seasonal debut at Orthodox Easter (or Paska) feasts that usually falls around mid-April. After a long, solemn period of reflection and penance when all meat (except the permissible fish) and pleasure are eschewed by the faithful, joyful cries of “Kristi Aghsdga!” or “Christ is Risen!” replaces standard greetings for a day of feasting and celebration. Families and friends (and lucky invited guests) gather around tables laden with all the classic staples of a Georgian supra, but the signature starter dish proffered is soup bowls of lamb (or veal) simmered in a rich white wine-based broth with fresh green tarragon, spring onions, green coriander, fresh young garlic bulbs and sour green plums called tkemali.

Gldani was built on the northern outskirts of Tbilisi during the 1970s and 1980s as a satellite city of well-ordered concrete towers for the working masses. Newer and pricier (though still uninspired) real estate developments are now challenging the Soviet blocks, but Gldani still remains predominantly a working-class district. Located around the last stop of Tbilisi's main metro line, Akhmeteli Theatre, Gldani’s center “is packed with local businesses like exchange kiosks, shopping malls, street vendors, casinos or cafes,” writes Tbilisi architecture biennale founder Tinatin Gurgenidze, before adding: “And the famous Gldani Shaurma is also nearby.”

Few locals, let alone tourists have reached the isolated mountain village of Ghebi in Georgia’s northern borderlands of Racha. However, many have passed through the doors of its namesake basement restaurant in the bustling left bank district of Marjanishvili in downtown Tbilisi. For more than a decade, the eatery has been steadily serving up comfort food from the region including lobio, the red bean stew with or without the aged Racha salted ham called lori, bean-stuffed pies called lobiani, and skhmeruli, the garlic saturated pan-roasted chicken dish. Located on Aghmashenebeli Avenue, which is more well known for its profusion of Turkish lokantasi diners with ready-made buffet spreads and Arab restaurants that attract many of the city’s foreign residents and visitors from South Asia and the Middle East, Ghebi remains a staunch local haunt frequented by tables of Georgian men toasting their chachas late into the evening over tables loaded with food.

Aghmashenebeli avenue – the main street on the left bank of the Mtkvari River – is well-known for its Turkish eateries and the presence of Barbarestan, a popular Georgian restaurant. But a handful of new food joints have opened recently, serving mainly Indian and Middle Eastern food, and sometimes a mix of both. One of these new spots is Beirut Saj, which opened in April 2022. The venue is easy to miss when walking along the never-ending Aghmashenebeli avenue – its entrance is discrete and you have to take a few steps down to enter. A hint that you’ve arrived at the right place is the sight of barber shops. A Turkish barber is located upstairs, and next door, in the basement, is a Lebanese barbershop called Miami.

Google khachapuri and the top images that pop up are that of the classic boat-shaped version, its golden orb of an egg yolk cracked in the center of melty cheese still bubbling fresh out of the oven. This classic recipe from the Black Sea coastal region of Adjara that gives it its name, Adjaruli khachapuri, is undeniably one of the most iconic visual representations of Georgian cuisine. While indeed an undeniably photogenic and enticingly seductive dish, the Adjaruli khachapuri’s domineering image often obscures the fact that there are dozens of different varieties of the khachapuri that exist around the country. Most restaurant menus options are also often reduced to just a handful of varieties, like the imeruli, with a single layer of cheese baked inside, the more opulent megruli, which adds a crust of cheese on top, and the all too ubiquitous Adjaruli.

For a while, French-Georgian fusion restaurant Métis, which opened in 2017, seemed to be the only place in town to get snails, served in their iconic snail khinkali. We took several trips to Akhaltsikhe and other areas of Samtskhe-Javakheti, asking for snails, and were always told the season was wrong or to look somewhere else. Then, in April 2021, Chef Guram Bagdoshvili added his riff on Meskhetian snails to the menu of his Georgian-Asian restaurant Chveni, and, with the recent addition of snail khinkali to their menu as well, today there are at least three snail dishes easily available to the avid Tbilisi gastropod consumer.

2022 was marked by the rebirth and reshuffle of the Tbilisi food scene, which was strongly impacted by almost two years of pandemic-related restrictions. In September, the reopening of the iconic Café Littera located in the Sololaki district was a sign that the lean days were over. Some other restaurants didn’t recover and closed for good but a bunch of new eateries sprang out across town. Quite surprisingly, the war in Ukraine has not affected the trend. In an unlikely turn of events, the influx of thousands of Russians, Belarusians and Ukrainians – many of whom are highly-skilled remote workers – have brought a new clientele to the local restaurants and bars.

If there were ever such a thing as an oracle for gentrification, Eka Janashia believes her father could qualify as one. We’re sitting in Eka’s chic café, Satatsuri, with its earthy brick walls and warm wood floors – a space that used to be the family head’s modest two-bedroom ground floor apartment in a rather rundown corner of Marjanishvili. The district was established in the early 17th century by German migrants who were invited  by Tsar Alexander I to settle in what was then part of the Russian Transcaucasian Empire. 

“Lobio saved Georgia in the nineties,” quips Aleko Sardanashvili as he plonks a round clay pot of the simmering red bean stew in the middle of a loaded table of food. It groans under the weight of an assortment of Georgian feasting staples - khachapuri, lobiani, tomato and cucumber salad, sauteed potatoes garnished with greens, jonjoli salad, pickled chilies, fried chicken, tkemali plum sauce and more. We’re at Aleko’s marani (or wine cellar) in Racha – one of Georgia’s most sparsely populated regions, located in its northwestern frontier. It used to be a six-hour long circuitous route by car to get here from Tbilisi until a spanking new road launched last year cut travel time to Racha by 1.5 hours. Since then, visitor numbers have sharply increased to Georgia’s smallest wine region, a place that offers the ability to dip into family wineries in vineyards slung along the slopes of its lower valleys and drive up to high ridges for magnificent views of the snowcapped peaks of the Greater Caucasus massif, all in one afternoon – although the reverse order is more advisable, for obvious reasons.

When it first opened in 2017, Hualing Tbilisi Sea Plaza was supposed to be the largest shopping mall in the South Caucasus. But all signs suggest that the gigantic commercial center has yet to live up to its great expectations, with one journalist noting that at times “shoppers were outnumbered by shops.” The mall was one of the flashy elements of a $170 million investment by the Chinese Hualing Group that went into transforming 420 hectares of a desolate eastern Tbilisi suburb called Varketili into Hualing Tbilisi Sea New City, with developments that included a colossal glass-shrouded 5-star hotel, rows of 10-story residential complexes and expansive avenues that abruptly adjoin wiggly side streets at the borders of the project site.