Churchkhela

What churchkhela actually is

Churchkhela is walnuts threaded onto a length of cotton and dipped, over and over, into grape must thickened with flour, then hung in the air until the coating sets. The result looks like a fat brown candle, which is why the strings hang from every market awning in the country and why almost everyone photographs them before working out what they are.

There are two ingredients. At harvest the pressed juice is boiled down to a syrup called badagi, wheat or corn flour is whisked in until it thickens into tatara, and the nut strings go through it. Each pass adds a layer a millimetre thick; a good string has had four or five, with drying in between. No sugar, no gelatine, no colouring.

The taste does not match the shape. The sweetness is grape sweetness rather than sugar sweetness, with a tannic edge from skins and pips, and the texture is chewy and slightly resistant — a fruit leather wrapped round a nut rather than anything from a confectioner. Dark Kakhetian strings taste of raisin and tea; the paler western ones are gentler.

One thing to say plainly: this is dense food. Churchkhela was made to be carried — by shepherds, into the field at harvest, and famously to war — and a single string holds the sugar of a good handful of grapes plus the fat of a dozen walnuts. Two centimetres with black tea is a portion. A whole string at once is a mistake we have made.

Kakheti in autumn: the vineyards whose pressed must becomes the coating.

How badagi and tatara are made

Everything is decided in the two or three weeks of rtveli, because that is the only time the raw material exists. Must does not keep. Once the presses stop, whatever badagi a family has boiled down is what it will be dipping for the rest of the year.

You can watch the whole sequence in Kakhetian yards through late September and October, and nobody minds being watched.

The must Grapes pressed, juice set aside. Red Saperavi gives the dark strings, white Rkatsiteli the amber ones. Boiling down Hours over a fire until the juice is clear and syrupy. This reduction is badagi. The flour Wheat or corn flour whisked in cold, then cooked slowly until it coats a spoon. Now it is tatara. Threading Shelled walnut halves on cotton thread with a needle, about a metre a string, loop at the top. Dipping In and out of the hot tatara, hung to dry, then back in. Four or five passes build the thickness. Curing Two to three weeks in dry shade. The surface dulls to matte; the inside stays soft. Sun and rain both ruin it.

Regional shapes and their names

The strings are not the same across the country, and knowing which one is in your hand explains most of the differences in colour and sweetness.

Kakheti The classic: walnut halves, dark red-brown Saperavi coating, long and slender. The version that travels. Kartli Similar but often thicker-coated and a shade paler, since the must is frequently from white grapes. Imereti and Racha Amber to tan, white must, sometimes hazelnuts alongside walnuts. Softer and more floral. Guria and Samegrelo Ask for janjukha here and you will be understood. Stubbier shape, thicker coating. Tatara and pelamushi The same paste eaten with a spoon — pelamushi set in bowls with corn flour. Same stalls in autumn. Other fillings Hazelnut, occasionally dried fruit or seeds. All legitimate; none better than a walnut string done well.

How to buy a good one

This is the part worth reading twice, because a fresh string and a year-old string are usually on sale within a hundred metres of each other. Handle the thing before you pay; at a market stall the seller is often the maker and is used to it.

Squeeze it Fresh churchkhela gives under a thumb and springs back. Rigid means old, and chewing rather than eating. Look at the finish Matte, faintly floury, dull. A glossy plastic sheen usually means glaze, sugar or age. Judge the colour Deep brown, brick red or honey amber. Bright pink, orange and green are dyed and taste of it. Check the coating Even and unbroken. Cracks let air in and the walnuts underneath go rancid. Ask the date In autumn ask when it was dipped. Last week is the answer you want, and it is given plainly. Buy where there is turnover A busy bazaar sells this month's strings. A quiet gift shop in July sells last September's.

When to buy, and what hangs there in July

Churchkhela is made once a year and sold all year, and those two facts explain nearly everything about the quality you meet. A string is at its best from about three weeks after dipping until roughly the new year.

Nothing about this is a secret. Ask at a stall in April whether the strings are fresh and you will usually get an honest shrug.

Late Sep – Oct Rtveli. Strings dipped in the villages and sold within days. The best of it, and the cheapest. Nov – Dec Cured and at their peak: soft inside, matte outside, still market prices. Jan – Mar Still good from bazaars with turnover, but firming. Squeeze before you pay. Apr – Aug Out of season. Market strings can be fine; souvenir strings are usually a year old. Best places City bazaars, village markets, roadside stands. Cheaper and fresher than gift shops, always. Worst places Airport, hotel lobby, tourist-street display racks. Triple price, rarely this year's.

The summer strings are last year's The dusty rows hanging in souvenir shops and along tourist streets through June, July and August were almost all dipped the previous autumn. They are not dangerous, simply hard, dark and tired — and they are the reason a great many visitors decide they dislike churchkhela. Buy at a working market, or wait for October.

What it costs

Prices move with the size of the string, the nut and where you happen to be standing, but the spread between a bazaar and a tourist street is large and consistent.

A market string Roughly 5-12 GEL (2025) at a Tbilisi bazaar; often less in Kakheti villages. Roadside stalls Around 5-15 GEL on the pass roads, sold beside honey and dried fruit. Gift shops 15-30 GEL for the same string, usually older. Airports higher again. By weight Some sellers weigh: roughly 20-40 GEL a kilo at markets. A string runs 100-200 g. Haggling Very little room. Prices are near-fixed and low; buy three and a fourth may appear.

The stalls, and where they are

In Tbilisi the two places with real turnover are the Dezerter Bazaar behind the central station and the cluster of stalls around Didube, where the marshrutkas leave. Both are working markets rather than attractions, both are loud, and both sell this month's strings at this month's prices.

In Kakheti the markets at Telavi and Sighnaghi do the same job on a smaller scale, and through autumn half the villages between them put a table at the gate. Roadside stands on the Gombori Pass and along the Jvari Pass sell churchkhela beside honey, usually made by whoever is sitting behind the table.

The mechanics are simple: cash, small notes, no bag offered. Point, squeeze, pay, and carry it away wrapped in newspaper. If you are buying several as gifts, buy them on the last day rather than the first, and buy them at a market rather than at the airport.

Tbilisi old town: a short walk from the bazaars where the strings actually turn over.

Eating it, keeping it, taking it home

It is not eaten in bites off the string, whatever the market photographs suggest. Slice it, share it, and treat it as something between a snack and a small dessert.

How to cut it Diagonal slices about a centimetre thick with a serrated knife. Pull the thread out as you go. What goes with it Unsweetened black tea first. Dry red wine works; sweet wine does not. Salty cheese is a good neighbour. Portion Two or three slices. A whole string is roughly a meal's worth of sugar and fat. Keeping Cool, dry, wrapped in paper or cloth. Two to three months easily, longer if you accept it firm. Never plastic A sealed bag makes it sweat; the coating goes tacky and the nuts turn. Flying with it Solid, dry and not a liquid for security. Check your destination's rules on nuts and produce.

The harvest behind it

Churchkhela belongs to rtveli, the grape harvest, which runs through late September and October and takes over eastern Georgia completely. Families pick, press, fill the qvevri, and then boil down whatever must is left over. The sweet is a by-product of the wine year, which is why it tastes of wine grapes rather than of sugar.

If you want to see it made, a village guesthouse in Kakheti in October will show you the cauldron and probably hand you a threading needle. Be a little wary of packaged harvest days sold by the coachload: the same vines get picked twice for photographs, and the churchkhela on the table was dipped elsewhere last week.

In Tbilisi the season arrives as Tbilisoba in autumn, when strings hang in rows along the old streets and tatara is stirred in public. Festival prices apply, but it is the week when the whole business is visible in the capital without leaving town.

Sighnaghi above the Alazani valley: churchkhela country, and busiest in October.

The five mistakes

Four of the five we have made ourselves, and the first is why so many people leave Georgia thinking they dislike churchkhela.

Buying it in July A souvenir rack in summer is selling last autumn's string at triple the price. Find a bazaar. Choosing the brightest Neon pink and green mean dye, not flavour. The good ones are dull brown, red or amber. Eating it like candy It is dense, tannic energy food. A few slices with tea, not a whole string in one sitting. Sealing it in plastic It sweats, the coating turns tacky and the nuts spoil. Paper or cloth, somewhere cool. Not squeezing first Ten seconds of handling separates a soft fresh string from a year-old one. Sellers expect it.

The questions that always come

These six reach us every autumn, and none needs a long answer.

What is actually in it? Grape must, flour and nuts, and in a properly made string nothing else — no added sugar, no gelatine, no dairy, so it is vegan by default. Industrial versions can carry sugar syrup, starch and colouring, and you taste the difference at once. Why is mine rock hard? Age. A string stays soft for two or three months and then slowly sets. It is still perfectly edible; slice it thinner and drink tea with it. Rigidity at the point of purchase means you were sold last year's. Are the bright pink and green ones real? The shape is, the colour is dye. Traditional coatings run from honey amber through brick red to nearly black, depending on the grape. Anything fluorescent has been coloured for the shelf and tastes of it. How long does it keep, and can I fly with it? Two to three months wrapped in paper somewhere cool, and it travels well — solid, dry, and not a liquid for security. Rules on importing nuts and fruit products vary, so check your destination before buying six. Is there added sugar? In a village string, no. All the sweetness is the grape's, concentrated by hours of boiling, which is why it tastes tannic rather than clean-sweet. The sugar content is high all the same. Where do I buy it in Tbilisi? The Dezerter Bazaar behind the central station and the stalls around Didube are the two with real turnover. Roughly 5-12 GEL a string (2025) there, against 15-30 on the tourist streets for something older.

In short Buy it where it is made, in the month it is made One soft matte string from a bazaar with turnover, sliced thin alongside black tea, and the summer souvenir racks stop being tempting for good. All things to do Kakheti