Uzbekistan

Lamb infuses soups like the kharcho, which is also filled with rice. It comes braised on the shank to a burnished tenderness alongside a tasty mound of fresh cottage fries.

Lamb also perfumes the cumin-flecked pilaf known as plov, the Uzbek national dish, which comes studded with meltingly tender morsels of the meat and a heady shine of molten lamb grease that glistens from every grain of rice. The menu's standard Samarkand plov ($5.99) was so addictively good, I'd definitely consider returning with a group of 10 for the advance-order Chaihana plov ($80), the restaurant's signature dish, which comes with whole heads of garlic inside and "lots of other meats," says Romanov. Lamb testicles, he said proudly, are also available for aficionados by special order.

The menu's standard lamb kebabs were good enough for me. Marinated with pureed onion, paprika and cumin, the tender chops ("chalahach") and morsels of leg were memorably tasty. I even came to appreciate the scrawny lamb ribs. They lack much meat, but were intriguing to gnaw on, because they left an intense imprint of the heat-charred savor and smoke on my lips - one that lasted well beyond the pot of black tea and densely chewy honey cake we devoured for dessert.

As we left Uzbekistan's parking lot and drove back through the rainy Northeast, I turned south on I-95 and licked my lips. The skyline of home was rising in the distance, but the flavors of this journey would last well into the night.