What to Eat in Tashkent

Tashkent, Uzbekistan’s largest city, sits at a Silk Road crossroads where a continental climate shapes the table. Summers are hot and dry, winters brisk, so food leans hearty and efficient. Bazaars supply grains, lamb, and herbs, while fruit seasons bring melons and grapes. The qozon cauldron and tandoor oven remain everyday tools.

Meals are communal: bread is broken first, tea poured often, and the midday spread tends to be the most substantial. Halal practices guide cuts and methods, with modest chili heat but generous aroma from cumin, coriander seed, and dill. Influences from Tajik and Uyghur communities appear in noodles and soups, yet the city’s cooking keeps a distinctive urban rhythm.

Plov in Tashkent is built in a cast-iron qozon: cottonseed oil or rendered lamb fat is heated, fatty lamb or beef and onions are browned, then carrots—often yellow as well as orange—go in with cumin (zira), black pepper, and sometimes barberries or a few chickpeas to form the zirvak. Devzira rice, prized for its sturdy, fragrant grains, is spread on top, water is added, and the pot is steamed until each grain separates, often finished with whole garlic heads. The result is fluffy rice lightly slicked with fat, tender meat, and a sweet-savory balance from carrots, with a warm cumin perfume. Culturally it anchors Friday lunches and celebrations; master cooks (oshpaz) are known for feeding crowds from a single cauldron. In the city it is most identified with a hearty midday meal, typically accompanied by tea and a simple tomato-onion salad.

Somsa are robust, tandoor-baked pastries whose dough is rolled and sometimes laminated with tail fat or oil, then filled with hand-chopped lamb or beef and a heavy dose of onion, seasoned with zira, pepper, and salt. Triangular or half-moon packets are pressed shut, brushed, sprinkled with sesame or nigella seeds, and slapped onto the hot clay wall to bake; the crust blisters and turns deep gold while the filling steams in its own juices. Expect a crisp shell and a juicy, aromatic interior with a whisper of smoke from the tandoor. In Tashkent they are bought early in the morning and late afternoon as a portable breakfast or snack, with pumpkin versions appearing in autumn and herb-filled variations in spring. Many locals enjoy them with hot tea and raw onion rings as a quick, satisfying bite between work and home.

Lagman reflects Uyghur noodle craft practiced widely in Tashkent: a supple dough is rested, oiled, and repeatedly stretched and pulled into long strands, then boiled to a chewy finish. The sauce—sometimes ladled as a soupier version—starts with seared lamb or beef, onions, and garlic, then adds tomatoes, bell peppers, carrot, and sometimes radish or potato, seasoned with cumin, paprika, and black pepper before being brightened with fresh dill and cilantro. The bowl brings bouncy noodles, a savory, lightly spicy gravy, and tender vegetables that retain bite, with optional vinegar or chili at the table. Historically carried by merchants and migrant cooks, it has become a weeknight staple and a common order in teahouses. Tashkent families often serve it for lunch or dinner when a one-bowl, vegetable-rich meal is desired, especially in cooler months.

Norin is a winter-leaning specialty that showcases precise knife work: thin dough sheets are steamed, brushed with oil, stacked, cooled, and then cut into hair-thin noodles. Separately, horsemeat and the firm, aromatic sausage kazy are simmered until tender and sliced very thin; the noodles and meat are combined and seasoned simply with black pepper and a hint of zira, sometimes finished with raw onion. Served cool or at room temperature, norin tastes clean, meaty, and peppery, with silky noodles and pleasantly chewy slices of horsemeat. In Tashkent it is associated with holidays and family gatherings, and specialists are known for exceptionally fine cuts. Many people buy it in the morning from market vendors to serve at home for lunch, particularly in colder months when rich, high-protein dishes are favored.

Qozon kabob layers meat and potatoes in a single vessel for maximum flavor: chunks of lamb or beef are salted, seasoned with cumin and pepper, and seared in oil or rendered fat until browned. Whole or halved potatoes and thick onion slices are added, the pot is covered, and the contents cook in their own steam, with minimal liquid, until the meat is tender and the potatoes develop crisp edges and a creamy interior; garlic and bay leaf often perfume the finish. The dish offers caramelized, meaty flavors and potatoes saturated with savory fat, a satisfying contrast of crust and softness. In Tashkent it’s a lunchtime favorite and especially popular in cool weather, when sizable qozons appear outdoors and portions are served straight from the pot. It pairs well with pickles and flatbread and is eaten fresh, while the top layer still crackles.

Tashkent cuisine balances urban efficiency with deep craft: cauldrons feed crowds, tandoors bake quickly, and noodle skills travel from market to home kitchen. The climate encourages robust plates in winter and produce-forward touches in summer, with spice used for aroma more than heat. To keep exploring regional food traditions and plan tastings around weather, browse more guides on Sunheron.com.