In her tiny kitchen in Vladikavkaz, Medina Salbiyev stood at the table kneading a large lump of dough.

As she pressed and squeezed the floury mix, Medina remained completely silent.

Standing in the corner, husband Tamir was doing all the talking.

"Only a woman has the privilege of making Ossetian pies," he lectured, "this isn't a man's work. And when the woman cooks, she's not allowed to talk."

In the Caucasus mountains, Ossetian women have been making their silent pies for thousands of years - large circular creations filled often with cheese, sometimes potato or even beetroot leaves.

For Ossetians the pies are more than just a food - they are an act of faith.

"Through these pies," Tamir explained, "we are making a sacrifice to God, and seeking His blessing."

He went on to tell me that when Ossetians have something to celebrate - a religious holiday, perhaps, or a wedding - they always bake three pies.

One represents the heaven, one the earth and the last pie, the underworld.

By partaking of all three, Ossetians try to re-enact the creation of the universe and give thanks to God. But when there is misfortune, tragedy or death, only two pies are baked and put on the table.

"Two is an unstable number," Tamir told me. "Two is a sign that we've lost a connection with loved ones who have passed into the next life, into another world."

Just 20 minutes' drive from Tamir and Medina's flat in Vladikavkaz is the town of Beslan - scene of that horrific school siege in 2004, which ended in bombs, bullets and unbelievable bloodshed - more than 330 parents, teachers and children lost their lives.

I'll never forget the day that Beslan began burying its dead.

The whole town echoed to the sound of wailing and uncontrollable hysteria and walking around Beslan that morning, there seemed to be a coffin and a wake in every yard.

And where grieving families had set out food on tables, there, too, were the Ossetian pies - just two pies per plate, of course, a numerical reminder of Beslan's loss.

There were so many scenes of suffering that day, but just catching sight of two pies on a plate really brought home to me how much our lives hang by a thread.

Three pies for happiness, two for woe: just one pie separating joy from tragedy.