You’ll step into Bee’s family ger outside Ulaanbaatar for a hands-on Mongolian cooking class with homemade noodle soup and dumplings, share stories over nettle tea, then laugh your way through shagai games with the kids before heading back to your hotel — maybe still smelling like woodsmoke.
It's about 5 km from the city center of Ulaanbaatar.
You may prepare handmade noodle soup, steamed dumplings (buuz), carrot salad, and rice with raisins.
Yes, round-trip transfers from your hotel in Ulaanbaatar are included.
Yes, vegetarian options are available if requested at booking.
Your hosts are Begzsuren (Bee) and his wife Mungunsoyombo (Soy), along with their children.
A ger is a traditional round tent covered with felt used as a dwelling by nomadic families in Mongolia.
Yes, you'll also learn shagai, a traditional Mongolian knuckle bone game played by the family.
This is a private experience for your party only.
Your day includes private transportation with pickup and drop-off at your hotel in Ulaanbaatar, all ingredients for cooking classic Mongolian dishes together in Bee's family ger home, plenty of hot herbal tea or coffee as you settle in, hands-on help from your hosts throughout the meal prep (and fixes if you mess up folding dumplings), plus time after lunch to try shagai before heading back into town.
I’ll never forget how quiet it got just outside Ulaanbaatar — five minutes ago we’d been dodging traffic, then suddenly there was only the crunch of gravel under Bee’s car and the wind flicking at the felt walls of his family’s ger. I could smell smoke from the stove before we even stepped inside. Bee’s wife, Soy, handed me a mug of nettle tea (I tried to say “bayarlalaa,” but she laughed and repeated it back — I’m pretty sure my accent was hopeless). Their kids peeked around the stove, curious but shy. The air inside was warm and carried this mix of mutton and herbs that made me instantly hungry.
We started on buuz — those steamed dumplings you see everywhere here. Soy showed me how to pinch them closed; mine looked lopsided but she just grinned and fixed one when I wasn’t looking. Bee talked about how his parents used to make these during Tsagaan Sar, Mongolia’s new year, and somehow I felt like I was getting let in on something more than just a recipe. There was carrot salad too, bright orange against their simple tablecloth, and noodle soup bubbling away. Honestly, kneading dough with hands still cold from outside is oddly satisfying.
Lunch was loud in that comfortable way families are — people talking over each other about who folded which dumpling best (not me), the kids arguing about shagai rules. That game is trickier than it looks; you flick sheep knuckle bones across the floor and try not to look too competitive about it. When we left later that afternoon, my coat smelled faintly of woodsmoke and mutton fat. It stuck with me longer than I expected — so did that feeling of being welcomed somewhere real, even if just for an afternoon.

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