Yerevan: Eating and Drinking

Yerevan I liked.  Any city with a suburb called Massive Norks gets my vote.  Buildings were a mix of Soviet grandeur, huge squares, like Opera Square, and Parisian looking tenements, all railings and roof gardens.  Being March, and Armenia being south of Carlisle, I had expected balmy spring evenings but it was decidely parky, snow on the ground and a fierce wind blasting straight through us.

Unfortunately, the heavy cloud meant no sighting of Mount Ararat, Armenia's spiritual home, now in Turkey.  We were also to miss pretty much all of Yerevan's main sights, the Genocide Memorial, museums, as it was too cold and snowing too much to wander around outside. 

Setting off from the bar under the hotel, one of those almost austere eastern European bars, other drinking establishments were not easy to find.  We passed an hour or two in a pizza place on the way to the Cascades, watching the world go by, before going further up the hill, where we got in from the cold and into a decent German bar.  The Armenian style is for meals to take as long as the time available, multiple courses and plenty of drinking.  Some men, all in leather jackets, with one rotund fellow clearly the main man sat at a table nearby.  Others were coming and going, but all going to him before anyone else, kissing both cheeks, paying homage.  Tony Sopranonian.  We saw a couple of groups like this, with  black Range Rovers parked outside bars, driver keeping guard.

People watching

We realised later that bars were mostly in basements.  The trick to drinking in Yerevan was to look down.  In restaurants, there would be a staircase leading to a basement with a bar, and straight from the street, you just had to look for beer signs, though at ground level.   

 Bars were interesting, dark, with lots of nooks and crannies.  The closest we came to a pub, other than the German bar, was a fishy themed bar which sadly was quite empty.  I constantly got the feeling we were missing the point, that somewhere out there, there were lively bars jumping with Armenian music and food, and we were wandering around, oblivious.  Having said that, it was a Monday night.  Early or late summer would be the time to go, when the Cascades is full of open air bars and barbecues, locally known as khoravats, grilled pork, lamb or chicken.

The week following our visit was the Iranian version of New Year with 70,000 Iranians expected in Yerevan for a day or two of a massive, frantic bevvy session, their one chance of the year.  We were speculating on how messy that could actually get, all starting out nicely and ending up, "Leave it, he's not worth it", being screeched all round the city as the lack of alcoholic opportunity takes its' toll.  Apparently, they run the risk of being arrested if the police smell alcohol on their breath when they return. 

Food, however, was magnificent !  So many different influences, Persian, Turkish, Georgian to the north.  On Khorenatsi Street, we found With Artush, and getting in out of the cold, were presented with a large vodka each to set us up.  Bit early, so I stuck to a few beers.  A wide selection of wildlife was behind glass, evidence of Armenia's hunting culture, everything from birds of prey to a bear.  Food was Armenian, highlight being a bean soup, with fresh, local bread but the whole menu was superb.

Better yet was the Afrikyanneri Pandok, rustic, and again, nooks and crannies, with heavy wooden tables and seats.  The menu was broader than With Artush, not only Armenian but Georgian, too.  We had a huge selection, lamb, pork, another great range of breads, and, being a part Georgian menu, a return to lobio, happy memories of Georgia five years before, well, unless you are Dave.  Needless to say, all washed down by a decent few beers.  £20 in total for the three of us.  This was followed up by a wander round to a pizza place, nearest thing we could find to a bar, for a few more.

A couple of bars later and it was into a downstairs restaurant, few more beers, I squeezed a quick plate of something in, in time for a brilliant violinist to start up.

John Doc "Can you play, "Far, far away ?"

"Right then, bog off".

Old jokes number 142, courtesy of Colin of the Chuckle Brothers.  Actually, the violin bloke was way above that and would never have deserved such an insult.