“The future is in water and grain,” says Natia Kalandarishvili. She is the co-founder of Graminea, a minimalist but inviting shop in Sololaki whose mission goes beyond just selling the best sourdough in town. The bakery uses endemic Georgian wheat for their bread flour in an effort to support rebalancing the national wheat market – an unusual approach in a bread-heavy cuisine which relies primarily on imported wheat. Natia and her friend Salome Zakaraia started Graminea in February 2023. Now head baker, Salome was previously a makeup artist by profession, working on film sets. But like many others during the Covid-19 pandemic, she started baking sourdough while she was stuck at home.

Just a few blocks away from Tbilisi's busy central railway station and its spaceship-like architecture, the area where Constitution and Ninoshvili streets meet was, until recently, an overlooked residential corner of the Georgian capital. But its centrality and the presence of several large unused historical and industrial buildings dating back to the 19th and early 20th centuries meant that the arrival of investors and new businesses was only a matter of time. The neighborhood has indeed been changing fast during the past few years. Part of a huge parking lot used for driving lessons is now home to outdoor courts for games of paddle (similar to pickleball), while the remaining space will be transformed soon into a brand-new park. Several of the area’s old buildings, meanwhile, now are home to some of Tbilisi’s more interesting new culinary enterprises, making the crossroads Constitution and Ninoshvili one of the city’s emerging neighborhoods to explore.

In Georgia, there are certain dishes that everyone associates with Orthodox Easter: paska, a sweet panettone-like bread and chakapuli, a lamb stew. However, there is another Georgian Easter tradition, one often overlooked: nazuki. Beautifully glazed and filled with raisins and spices, in recent years these fluffy sweet breads have become associated almost exclusively with the village of Surami in the Kartli region. In this small settlement between Tbilisi and Kutaisi in the West, huts line the side of the highway, each with a tone (a cylindrical traditional oven), a baker and a family nazuki recipe.

When Ethiopian national Mimi Alemu Desta was proposed Georgia as a temporary place of refuge by to help her escape her war-torn country in 2021, she assumed it was the state in the U.S. Little did she imagine she would end up in the South Caucasus republic she didn’t even know existed till then, let alone that she’d be the first person to introduce the spice-and flavor-infused cuisine of her home country to residents of Tbilisi.

The Vera district of Tbilisi is bursting with tempting food options, from traditional Georgian feasts to cinnamon rolls and pizza. But there is nowhere like Tamtaki in the neighborhood – or anywhere else in Tbilisi, for that matter. Founded by chef Tamta Kikaleishvili and her mother, Katya Gegia, in 2020, the origin of the name comes from the chef’s first name, Tamta, and Ki, the first two letters of her last name, Kikaleishvili. And it's not just the name of the restaurant. “There is no Georgian synonym for the word sandwich, so we decided to introduce this word,” says Katya. “Because all our dishes, the ‘tamtakis,’ are served atop bread – ingredients, sauces, ‘sides.’”

Last summer, when we first saw handmade posters on the street written in English and Georgian announcing the opening of a Japanese bakery, we were both bewildered and excited. On top of many local tone (traditional ovens), Tbilisi had French, German, Turkish and Lithuanian bakeries but Japanese bread and pastries were unheard of. We finally visited the new spot in question, Pancholi-na, around 10:30 a.m. one winter morning. Ayako Matsumoto, one of the owners, had already baked a dozen triangular old-fashioned doughnuts, some plain and some with cacao baked in.

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.

After two years marked by significant changes and challenges, 2023 has emerged as a year of stability and consolidation for Tbilisi's dining scene. While there may not be any groundbreaking revolutions, the city, true to its dynamic nature, has still experienced a noteworthy turnover of venues, with new establishments opening as others closing. In the heart of the Sololaki district, the cherished Ezo sadly closed its doors in late October. Translating to "courtyard" in Georgian, Ezo was more than just a restaurant; it was a sanctuary where patrons sought solace while indulging in delicious dishes. Since its establishment in 2015, Ezo had been a trailblazer, introducing a fresh perspective to the local food scene.

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.”

Tbilisi’s Lilo district is the place to go to find just about anything at a more affordable price; it's not only the largest market in the city but also in the entire country of Georgia. However, the downside is its location, situated about 12 miles away from the city center. A few months ago, a friend recommended that we explore a Thai restaurant located in a village close to the market. Although he hadn't tried it himself, it was said to be well worth the trip. He pointed out the spot on Google Maps, which goes by the name “Thai Restaurant Cooking Home and Farm Vegetable.”

Up above Freedom Square where the Sololaki and Mtatsminda neighborhoods blend together, there is a 100-year-old building with an apartment five steps below the sidewalk. It’s a warm, intimate space, part living room, part museum. A massive collection of wine glasses hang from the ceiling, 19th-century framed portraits of Georgians decorate one wall above a piano, while opposite are glass cases displaying antique ceramic pitchers and elegant, polished drinking horns called kantsi. There are also two vintage silver vessels – exquisite ashtray-sized pans with long stylized handles used in days of old for drinking wine to special toasts. This cup is called an azarphesha, and this entire collection (and the walls containing it) belong to Luarsab Togonidze, a folklorist, author, entrepreneur and co-owner of this welcoming restaurant, also called Azarphesha.

Someone once said that humanitarian workers are like mercenaries, missionaries or madmen. It is a description we have also applied to expats who end up in far-flung places like Georgia. Like the foreigner out in the secluded Kakhetian village of Argokhi, between the Alazani River and the Caucasus Mountains, who has forged his life growing a nearly extinct variety of native wheat and baking it into bread; but he is no madman. He’s a Frenchman. We had first heard about Jean-Jacques Jacob some years ago while visiting the Alaverdi Monastery in Kakheti, when a friend pointed north of the giant cathedral and told us of a Frenchman who had started a farm in the middle of nowhere.