What to Eat in Samarkand: Food From a Silk Road City

Samarkand sits in Uzbekistan’s Zeravshan Valley, where hot, dry summers and cold winters shape daily cooking. Markets reflect wheat, mutton, and irrigated produce. Meals are communal and unhurried, with tea guiding conversation at home and in neighborhood teahouses.

Centuries of Silk Road exchange brought grains, spices, and techniques while preserving restrained, ingredient-forward flavors. Bread and rice anchor the table, and the qozon, a deep cauldron, concentrates heat for stews and pilafs well suited to the climate and pace of life.

Samarkand’s plov centers on a zirvak of lamb or beef browned with onions in a heavy qozon, then enriched with yellow carrots, cumin (zira), pepper, and whole garlic heads. Water forms a broth, after which rinsed rice is heaped over the sauce in a distinct layer. The cook avoids stirring, allowing rice to steam until the grains separate, glossy and intact, while meat and carrots remain beneath. The result is aromatic and balanced: savory lamb, gentle sweetness from carrots, and a warm cumin finish, with tender meat contrasting the firm rice.

Historically cooked for weddings, community gatherings, and morning osh events, plov marks hospitality and abundance across the city. The Samarkand layering method, widely noted in Uzbekistan, keeps flavors defined and the rice drier than mixed pilafs. It is commonly served as the midday main meal or on festive mornings, portioned from a single qozon into wide platters for sharing. At home and in neighborhood oshkhanas, it signals ceremony yet remains an everyday favorite.

Tandir non is made from wheat flour, water, salt, and yeast or sourdough, formed into a round with a thick rim and a dimpled, stamped center. Bakers use a chekich stamp to keep the middle thin, sometimes sprinkling sesame or nigella seeds before baking. The dough disc is slapped onto the hot wall of a clay tandir fired with wood or fruit pits, where it bakes quickly to a glossy, lightly smoky crust. The rim is chewy, the center crisp, and the crumb holds moisture well, helping the loaf travel and store.

Bread anchors every meal and carries deep etiquette in Samarkand: it is shared by hand, cherished, and never placed upside down. The city’s non is historically prized for durability, a practical legacy of caravan trade. Families buy it early in the day, then pair it with soups, kebabs, and stews or use it to scoop sauces. It is equally at home on festive tables and in everyday lunch baskets.

Somsa in Samarkand relies on an unleavened dough, often laminated with oil or rendered tail fat for flake, and a filling of minced lamb or beef mixed with chopped onions, cumin, salt, and pepper. Seasonal versions use pumpkin or potato, but the classic is meat-forward and juicy. Cooks fold the dough into tight triangles or half-moons, seal the edges, and stick them directly to the inner wall of a blazing tandir. In minutes, the pastry blisters, the fat renders, and the interior steams, yielding a crisp, layered shell around a succulent, aromatic center.

The flavor is concentrated: onion sweetness, a gentle cumin aroma, and rich meat juices that soak into the flaky layers. Somsa is a practical street food shaped by the city’s fast-paced markets and cool evenings, eaten hot out of the oven as breakfast, a midday snack, or an easy supper. It travels well, making it popular for picnics and road journeys. Home cooks and neighborhood bakeries alike keep it in steady rotation.

Shurpa is a clear, aromatic soup built from mutton or lamb on the bone, simmered with onions, carrots, and potatoes, sometimes with tomatoes or chickpeas added. Spiced modestly with cumin and coriander and finished with dill or parsley, it can be made two ways: kaynatma shurpa, where ingredients are gently boiled, and qovurma (kaurma) shurpa, where the meat and onions are first seared for deeper flavor. Long, steady cooking yields a broth that is lightly fatty yet clean-tasting, with vegetables that hold their shape. The meat softens to a tender bite, while herbs provide freshness.

Shurpa is a cornerstone of hospitality, often served to guests and valued in winter when the continental chill settles over the valley. Its balance suits everyday dining: soothing yet substantial, fragrant without heavy spice. Families eat it at home for lunch, and teahouses ladle generous bowls throughout the day. Paired with non, it becomes a complete, warming meal.

Qozon kabob begins with lamb or beef pieces salted, peppered, and briefly marinated with sliced onions, then seared in hot oil in a deep cauldron until browned. The meat is lifted out while thick-cut potatoes are fried, after which the two are layered back in the qozon with onions and a pinch of cumin. The pot is covered so the ingredients steam in their own juices, delivering a crust on the exterior and a soft, infused center. When finished, the potatoes glisten with rendered fat and meat drippings, and the meat offers a crisp edge and tender interior.

The dish speaks to Samarkand’s taste for texture and efficiency, using one vessel to achieve both frying and braising. It is common at weekend gatherings and family celebrations, filling the role of a hearty centerpiece when plov is not on the menu. Served with non and raw onion rings, it suits cool evenings and the city’s substantial midday meals alike. The straightforward seasoning lets quality meat and high heat do the work.

Samarkand’s cuisine balances wheat breads and rice, qozon-fired technique, and restrained spicing that highlights quality meat and seasonal produce. The dishes fit the valley’s hot summers and cold winters, offering durability, warmth, and shareable abundance. Explore more food traditions and weather-ready travel ideas on Sunheron.com.