 At Balkan dinners, Bey's Soup is often the star attraction. “Bey’s Soup is the ultimate comfort food of the Balkans,” Dalida told me, as she began chopping onions. “We eat it in every season, at the holidays, for special occasions — all the time really.” “Who is Bey?” I asked. “Ah, that would be Gazi Hüsrev Bey,” she said, smiling the way you do when someone mentions your absolutely most favorite uncle. “Bey was his title; it means governor. Gazi Hüsrev Bey was the great benefactor of Sarajevo.” You can’t spend more than a few hours in Sarajevo, capital of Bosnia and Herzegovina, without hearing about this man. His name is still, respectfully, on the tip of every tongue — which is not bad considering he lived 500 years ago, in the dark ages before social media. Hüsrev came from money and power, grandson to one sultan, and after a string of successes on the battlefield, chosen by another — Suleiman the Magnificent — to govern Bosnia for the Ottoman Empire. As fans of Game of Thrones know only too well, wealthy titled grandsons and war heroes don’t always make the best rulers. But to this day, Gazi Hüsrev Bey is generally viewed as a mix of Santa Claus, Jack Bauer, and the prime minister played by Hugh Grant in Love Actually. In other words, exactly the right person for the job. On Hüsrev’s watch, Sarajevo became known as “a flower among cities.”  Art on the wall of the school commissioned by Gazi Hüsrev Bey in Sarajevo Walking around the city this past week, I have been astonished at the scope of the Bey’s projects. He not only built a gorgeous mosque but helped finance the Old Orthodox Church and a Franciscan monastery. Rich and I visited the school he founded (originally for boys, although later open to all) with plenty of scholarships and an emphasis on “the rational and traditional sciences.” Nearby we saw the Bey’s library, housing the most important collection of manuscripts in the country, many from Hüsrev’s personal collection. He built public bath houses, drinking fountains, parks, and a caravansary where visitors to the city could stay for several days for free; sadly this last is no longer in operation and Rich and I had to pay for an Airbnb. I was staggered to discover that the public toilet he’d had installed in 1530 is still in operation, and I felt I owed it to my readers to pop in for a look around so I could report on its condition. You’ll be glad to know that the plumbing has been upgraded since the Bey’s day. There are stalls, clean ceramic squat toilets, modern sinks, and an optional donation tin.  The sign explains the WC was built in 1530, destroyed in 1992 [first year of the Siege of Sarajevo], and rebuilt in 2001. The Bey also fed his people. “He opened a soup kitchen, a free place to eat,” Dalida told me, as she finished chopping the vegetables and brought out a large soup pot. “It was meant for the poor, but the food was so good everyone went. They say even Gazi Hüsrev Bey himself ate there.” Dalida and I were in the kitchen of her friend and employer, Uliana, co-founder of Balkantina, a small company organizing food tours and cooking classes out of a gourmet shop behind the Sacred Heart Cathedral in Sarajevo. Rich and I had dropped by the shop one day, and when Uliana heard about our Mediterranean Comfort Food Tour, she invited us to her home to see Begova Čorba (Bey’s Soup) prepared as part of a traditional Bosnian dinner. When we arrived at her apartment, Uliana welcomed us with a platter of cheese, tomatoes, paper-thin ham, olive oil, and honey. “We always begin with a meze plate,” she explained. “And of course, rakija.” The traditional tiny servings of high-octane, homemade fruit brandy were poured and we toasted the occasion. After we’d nibbled our honey-dipped cheese, sipped our rakija, and been introduced to Uliana’s enormous Maine coon cat, Max, Dalida showed me the first, most characteristic ingredient in Bey’s Soup: a long string of dried okra. Now, I’ve had okra dishes that I loved, but I’ve run across a few that, as one writer so delicately expressed it, had the consistency of snot. Not to worry, it turns out that dried okra, commonly sold hereabouts on a string, eliminates sliminess, leaving a delicious vegetable bursting with vitamins and minerals. (If you’re pregnant or have asthma, high cholesterol, diabetes, or a compromised immune system, check out the medical benefits of okra.) No dried okra in your supermarket? Here’s how to dry it in your home oven.  In the Balkans, okra is usually dried and sold on a string about a meter long . Bey’s Soup likes to simmer as long as possible, an hour and a half at least. While Dalida’s pot bubbled away on the stove, filing the air with the scent of onion, chicken, okra, and lemon, she whipped up a batch of dolmas (grape leaves and small yellow peppers stuffed with ground beef and rice). Then she tossed together a salad of tomatoes, cucumbers, and sour cream. By this time the soup had simmered sufficiently, and she removed the chicken from the bone and thickened the broth with a roux. Dinner was ready. The results were marvelous, a thick, delicious chicken soup for the body and soul. Just the sort of food to nourish a weary traveler newly arrived in the city, yet fit for any special occasion, such as getting to know new friends. Did Gazi Hüsrev Bey ever actually eat this soup? Who knows? But like the city of Sarajevo itself, Bey’s Soup will forever stand as a testimony to his generosity. And I like to think he would have enjoyed knowing that. One year into his reign, he set up a vakuf (endowment) to make sure the city would have the policies and funds it needed to keep his legacy going. Part of that document says: "Good deeds cause evil to flee, and the loftiest of all good deeds is charity. The loftiest of all charities is the one that lasts forever, while the most beautiful of all good deeds is the one that keeps on giving.... The efficacy of the vakuf will persist for as long as this world exists, and its work will continue until Judgment Day.” Not all the Bey’s good works are intact; the bath house and free lodgings closed long ago, and the school and library have relocated to larger quarters. But it’s pretty clear that if anything can survive until Judgement Day, it’s the pleasure of sitting down to a nice warm bowl of Bey’s Soup. Want to try this at home? Get Bey's Soup Recipe here. YOU MIGHT ALSO ENJOY SOME OF MY OTHER FAVORITE COMFORT FOODS AND THESE STORIES ABOUT REMARKABLE PEOPLE Trying to recall exactly where Sarajevo is?  See all posts about the Mediterranean Comfort Food Tour. See all recipes and videos. Don't miss a single loony adventure or the next mouthwatering recipe. Sign up below for updates. Thanks for joining us on the journey.
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 The Bosnian Pyramids: sensational find or shameless hoax?  Sam Osmanagich, a Bosnian businessman based in Houston since 1992 and dressing as Indian Jones since becoming an amateur archaeologist in 2005. Growing up in California, I was steeped in the culture of goofy roadside attractions involving ghosts, aliens, Bigfoot, and ancient, unfathomable mysteries recently invented by hucksters who’d like to sell you a ticket and a t-shirt. So you can imagine how my internal radar pinged the moment I first beheld a lurid color poster promoting the Bosnian Pyramids. I could hardly wait to Google them. “They’re supposedly much bigger and way older than Egypt’s pyramids,” I told Rich. “Apparently they are energy amplifiers that can heal your body, your chakras, and your aura.” The Bosnian Pyramids were “discovered” (naysayers claim invented) in 2005 by Sam Osmanagich, a Bosnian business man who declared the cluster of pointy hills near Sarajevo "the greatest pyramidal complex ever built on the face of the earth." His announcement caused a sensation, providing a huge boost to national pride — and tourism — in the aftermath of the devastating Bosnian War of 1992-1995. Supporting Osmanagich’s claims became a litmus test of patriotism in many circles. Just last night a local man told me the pyramids were a national treasure and the first thing we should visit in the region. He takes his little daughter there every year for a general cleansing. The scientific community has spent years vigorously protesting that Osmanagich is perpetrating "a cruel hoax on an unsuspecting public." As Boston University archaeologist Curtis Runnels put it, “All of the ‘finds’ being made by Osmanagich are either natural features like rocks, or the result of long occupation in these valleys by people since the Greco-Roman period. As for the supernatural powers he claims for these ‘pyramids,’ one only has to note that Mr. Osmanagich published a book claiming the Maya came from the Pleiades constellation.” Nevertheless, tourists happily continue to flock to the site, and Osmanagich happily continues to collect the entrance fees, sell them t-shirts, and assure them their auras have never looked better.  As you can see from this picture, not all auras are created equal. But not to worry, the Bosnian Pyramids can (allegedly) upgrade yours. Important tip: according to the Ancient Origins website, you won't get the full boost if you're a skeptic or wear artificial fibers in your clothing. “We should go to the pyramids,” I said to Rich. “Maybe we’ll be the first to see Bigfoot there.” But before organizing an expedition to the pyramids, I thought it would be fun to research roadside attractions right here in Sarajevo. And it turns out the town has some doozies. The ICAR Canned Beef Monument stands as an ironic tribute to the horrendous food sent over as humanitarian aid during the Siege of Sarajevo, which lasted three years, ten months, three weeks, and three days. Yes, the UN meant well. But they delivered rations left over from the Vietnam conflict that were 20 years past their expiration date. They shipped in tins of pork, which couldn’t be eaten by the Muslim half of the population. And then there were the cans of something called ICAR beef, reportedly so foul even starving dogs wouldn’t touch it. One blogger 's grandfather told him, “If there is another siege, I would rather die than eat ICAR.” After the war, the “grateful citizens of Sarajevo” put up this monument, a meter-high replica of the ICAR beef can, which sadly, or perhaps appropriately, has fallen into a dreadful state of disrepair.  The base says, "Monument to the International Community."  Amanpour in 1992 Less than a block away stands another icon of the war, the former Holiday Inn. Situated on “Sniper Alley,” one of the most dangerous roads in the besieged city, the hotel was home base for many war correspondents, including CNN’s Christiane Amanpour. "Many times it was shot by artillery fire, mortars were fired that landed on or near it, windows were broken regularly,” she said. “I remember the coffee bar, which had a canopy on top of it, in the atrium lobby was hit and caught fire." Despite the risks, and often the lack of hot water or electricity, it was the most stable factor in their lives at the time. “We considered the Holiday Inn our recreation, our home. It was where we woke up, where we went to sleep, where we visited each other, sometimes in each others' rooms. It was where love affairs blossomed, it was where we worked, it was where we escaped death. It was really everything to many of us." The Holiday Inn was considerably less exciting in 2005 when Rich and I first visited it en route to a volunteer work project. We arrived late at night by taxi, staring about us at all the bombed-out, bullet-riddled buildings — never a reassuring sight. We spent the night half-expecting the sound of artillery fire (none came), had coffee under the refurbished canopy in the atrium lobby, and departed for another city to do our work. Since then, the city of Sarajevo has been busy patching the bullet holes, rebuilding its infrastructure, and enticing tourists from around the world to enjoy its rich East-meets-West culture. The hotel's post-war recovery has been a bit more haphazard, culminating in losing its Holiday Inn branding and eventually being shut down by Bosnia's State Investigation and Protection Agency for reasons I probably don’t want to know about. We revisited a few days ago to find it in fine condition, fully restored and renamed Hotel Holiday, allowing them to capitalize on its fame without technically violating laws pertaining to terminated franchise agreements. For another blast from the past, Rich and I stopped for coffee at the Caffe Tito, a tongue-in-cheek tribute to the former Yugoslavian dictator. For an authoritarian ruler, President for Life Josip Broz Tito was surprisingly popular, a strongman who united former enemies and forged them into a socialist state with a market economy. “Yes, Tito was a dictator,” said Adis, our guide on the free walking tour the day before. “And yes, he imprisoned people and had his political enemies killed. But sometimes that’s necessary to keep a country together.” Yikes! I guess that’s one perspective. “Now that Tito’s gone, I hear there’s a lot of corruption,” someone said. Adis grinned. “You call it corruption, we call it a free market.” Caffe Tito sits by a park and playground, where we spent a few heartwarming moments watching little children climb around on old tanks and artillery weapons. Inside was a wealth of memorabilia honoring the man and his era, from his leadership of the Partisans during WWII until his death in 1980. Cult-like portraits of Tito, camouflage fabrics, and vintage weaponry rubbed shoulders with dial telephones, mid-century radios, and vinyl record albums. It was at the Caffe Tito that Rich and I took a hard look at the proposed expedition to the Bosnian Pyramids. It was 90 degrees, with humidity somewhere around 60 percent, and I was holding a glass of cold water to my forehead, wishing I had the nerve to dump it over my head right there at the table. Maybe if I slipped off behind one of the armored tanks… “Do you remember what I wrote last week about the wisdom of not climbing to high castles in hot weather? “ I said. “I’m thinking that might apply to pyramids too.” Abandoning the Bosnian Pyramid expedition was clearly the smart move. Oh sure, I had been looking forward to having my aura cleansed; it was feeling a bit grubby after all the bus rides and sweaty weather. And I was sorry now that I’d wasted minutes viewing the intro to the surprisingly dull video Bosnian pyramid SHOCK: Ancient Civilization Received Knowledge from SPACE.” Perhaps I’ll never discover the “truth” about how aliens figure into the story. But I know one thing for sure: for every once-in-a-lifetime-marvel that I skip, there are at least a dozen other, equally outlandish sites out there, just waiting for me to stumble upon them. I’m saving my strength, trusting my aura will somehow recuperate without paranormal assistance, and keeping my eyes open for signs pointing to the next offbeat roadside attraction, wherever it may be. YOU MIGHT ALSO ENOY THE OFFBEAT ROADSIDE ATTRACTIONS OF This Adventure is Just One Stop on OUR MEDITERRANEAN COMFORT FOOD TOUR Days on the road: 102 Current location: Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina Traditional recipes posted: 15  See all posts about the Mediterranean Comfort Food Tour. See all recipes and videos. 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Karen McCann
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