One day in 2013, I accidentally found myself homeless. Realizing I didn't need to return to one place, I embarked on a journey to discover truly delicious food. These delicious foods scattered around the world must have some secret secret beyond the skill of the maker. I wanted to share these delicious experiences with my friends. It was through this unexpected event that "YOU BOX" was born. Looking back at my recent YOU BOX experiences, I discovered "deliciousness packed with wisdom" in Sri Lanka, where I visited to try the green porridge people drink in the morning, and Ayurveda and other such practices. In Micronesia, where I visited in search of Kosrae soup and primarily learned how to make a fire, I experienced "primitive deliciousness." And in Spain, where I encountered truly dedicated producers and products that everyone would agree were delicious, I experienced "refined deliciousness." So, what delicious things will I discover this time? My destination this time was Georgia, because a person who has traveled extensively and eaten delicious food there had said, "Georgian food is simply delicious," and because I recently had an intriguing amber-colored Georgian wine. As usual, I left two weeks after deciding on the country, starting my 10-day trip with no plan.

By the way, when I start a YOU BOX trip, I always leave Japan with only my round-trip airfare and first-night accommodations booked. I prefer to research the history of a place after returning from a trip, so as not to let my knowledge filter my thoughts. My first stop was the capital, Tbilisi. Surrounded by the scent of a safe city, I felt an unexpected sense of security. However, it had been a long time since I'd been in a situation where I couldn't predict the language at all, so I naturally felt a little anxious, thinking, "Oh, I see, I don't understand the language."

My first night's accommodation was with Eka and Lila, a mother and daughter who started Tbilisi's first vegetarian food delivery service. Their house, built around a small garden, seems to have been a place where many people have stayed since the grandmother's generation. Artists have left paintings on the walls and there are lovely handmade souvenirs. The history of human interaction is alive and warm. We learn how to make green borsch, a common dish, and a vegetarian version of kharcho, a beef stock soup, while pondering where to go next.

First, let's head east!

So, where should we go next? Apparently, the eastern Kakheti region is famous for its wine, so I head east. After some complicated money negotiations with the taxi driver, I continued my conversation, likely without understanding him, when trucks and cars loaded with grapes began to appear. It seemed we were approaching the grape town. As the area started to look a little lively, the driver stopped the car, gesturing as if to say, "Let's go for lunch!" I wondered what I'd do if I was dropped off in a strange spot, but it turned out to be the grape harvest festival! Everyone was eating, drinking, singing, and dancing. I happened to look next to me and, for some reason, saw the driver's family there, and we decided to join in the festivities.
Checking Google Maps, I confirmed that this was my destination, Signagi. My lodging for the night was the home of Susanna, an artist and doctor. I was touched by her 12-year-old daughter's tireless efforts to translate her mother's words, who only speaks Russian, into English, as we enjoyed a "Welcome to her Home BBQ."



The next morning, the weather is so clear you'll want to go for a run. I immediately go for a walk and greet her with my newly learned greeting, "Germarchyova!" (hello), and an incredibly photogenic grandmother beams and beckons me into her house. We communicate with incomprehensible gestures and voice, and in the end she hands me an endless supply of grapes. Nearby, two grandmothers are making chuchera, a specialty Georgian sweet. Roasted walnuts and hazelnuts are threaded and soaked in a thickened dough made from a mixture of reduced grape juice and flour, then dried in the shade for six days. It is said that there are over 500 varieties of grapes in Georgia, and the color changes depending on the type of grape, and the taste and final result also change depending on the flour ratio and how much the juice is reduced. After this, we visited a grandmother who makes several sweets, and the ones these two make are exquisitely sweet, with a low proportion of flour, allowing the rich flavor of the original ingredients to shine through. But how creative is it to use so much food to make sweets, and to make them in the shape of caterpillars? (It's not a look that would be popular in Japan, lol)



In the afternoon, Susanna and I went to a cute bakery run by a loving couple in the neighborhood, a wonderful restaurant that serves their own natural wine, and a home that uses the oldest winemaking method, fermenting wine in jars (qvevri) buried in the ground, a method recently registered as a World Heritage Site. We were treated to a young wine that had only been made about two weeks ago (it had a delicious, concentrated flavor of grapes bathed in plenty of sun!).

I looked forward to eating the "mazzoni" (slightly more sour than plain yogurt in Japan) that everyone makes at home every morning. But I was curious about where the bacteria comes from and how it's made, and we were talking about visiting a farm. One night, Susanna called and said, "There's a woman who bought a cow. Let's go there!" She jokingly replied, "Usually it's fine, but for some reason I haven't seen the cow in a while." I called again 30 minutes later, and then an hour later, but the cow still seemed lost. We made an appointment to go back the next morning, but the next morning, no one showed up as if nothing had happened, which was somehow within my expectations (lol). Susanna's father showed up shortly thereafter, patted me on the shoulder, smiled and said, "Let's go together the day after tomorrow." I never had one, but there's absolutely no point in making "plans," and it's better to just assume things will go as planned! I gave up on Mazzoni and decided to head north into the mountains to Kazbegi with some Russian girls my age that I met in Signagi.

To be continued in part 2.