My recent trip to Moscow left a few distinct impressions on me.
The city is quite beautiful but most importantly filled with terrific food. The beauty however, is more of the "rough around the edges" variety, and hid behind a fair bit of grit and grime. Basically, like the copious amounts of potatoes they use in their food, the city could do with a good scrubbing.
In Moscow, the people aren’t particularly friendly at first, but the vodka makes up for it in the end. More shocking than the burning sensation of home-made vodka scorching my throat was just how expensive everything was. Never-ever did I think London would be a pauper cousin to another metropolis. Low and behold – here was Moscow, strutting her stuff and waving her big chops around. They say ignorance was bliss, and when I wasn’t converting my purchases I was AOK. However, it wasn’t until KC and I were walking down the street with a green tea and cappuccino in hand that the internal calculator turned on. I’m hoping our drinks were brewed in gold and dusted with magical powers because I realised that the two drinks had just cost us $26.00. And no, my nose is not growing.
Traveling to Moscow was the first time I’d really had an opportunity to eat Russian and Ukrainian food in excess. It was also the first time I was as close as I’d ever come to some of the traditional foods I’d grown up with. I’d always just thought of them as family recipes - typical “Jewish” foods – but I realised they were less about being “Jewish” (as the pork in a few dishes should have hinted at) and more eastern European – Russian influenced. I mentioned to a few people that I loved the food in Moscow and more than a fair few were quite surprised. Maybe it’s the ¼ Ukrainian in me that made it come out – but KC loved it too. And her heritage is of a random variety of Western European countries. And she's from Texas to boot - so I doubt it.
The city is quite beautiful but most importantly filled with terrific food. The beauty however, is more of the "rough around the edges" variety, and hid behind a fair bit of grit and grime. Basically, like the copious amounts of potatoes they use in their food, the city could do with a good scrubbing.
In Moscow, the people aren’t particularly friendly at first, but the vodka makes up for it in the end. More shocking than the burning sensation of home-made vodka scorching my throat was just how expensive everything was. Never-ever did I think London would be a pauper cousin to another metropolis. Low and behold – here was Moscow, strutting her stuff and waving her big chops around. They say ignorance was bliss, and when I wasn’t converting my purchases I was AOK. However, it wasn’t until KC and I were walking down the street with a green tea and cappuccino in hand that the internal calculator turned on. I’m hoping our drinks were brewed in gold and dusted with magical powers because I realised that the two drinks had just cost us $26.00. And no, my nose is not growing.
Traveling to Moscow was the first time I’d really had an opportunity to eat Russian and Ukrainian food in excess. It was also the first time I was as close as I’d ever come to some of the traditional foods I’d grown up with. I’d always just thought of them as family recipes - typical “Jewish” foods – but I realised they were less about being “Jewish” (as the pork in a few dishes should have hinted at) and more eastern European – Russian influenced. I mentioned to a few people that I loved the food in Moscow and more than a fair few were quite surprised. Maybe it’s the ¼ Ukrainian in me that made it come out – but KC loved it too. And her heritage is of a random variety of Western European countries. And she's from Texas to boot - so I doubt it.
Still, the connection was made for a few reasons:
Dill - My mother, grandmother before her, and now me has had a love affair with dill all of our lives. It makes its way into many home-made soups and salads that have been made countless times over the years.
Potatoes – The body is approximately 60% water, I think the rest of mine is made up of mashed potatoes. I’m addicted to them and must eat them in some capacity nearly every day. These little diamonds make their way into nearly all old-school family recipes in some way, shape, or form. Even when you don’t expect potato (e.g. Meat Knishes) it’s hidden in there unexpectedly (in the case of the said Knishes, in the dough).
Vodka – I love it. My mom loves it. My grandmother, bless her, was known to take a sip or two on occasion.
Over my 4 days in Moscow I had two favourite foodie delights. The first was the Russian tradition of chasing vodka shots with dill pickles. Never in my life have I found a more perfect match. People talk about meeting their perfect match, their “soul mate” – I think it’s really all about meeting your “dill pickle.” On so many different levels that just sounds wrong - I know, but honestly – it’s just so right.
My second favourite is the infamous beetroot soup, borscht. When I was younger borscht didn’t materialise too often because my father is a Borscht hater. However, my mom would still make it for herself on occasion. In my youthful ignorance the only bright-pink items I’d let near me were hair scrunchies, bonnie-bell watermelon lip gloss, or my lee press on nails in “bubblegum.” Borscht was totally bogus, man.
Living in London one can get some fancy delancy beetroot based soups, but funnily enough it’s never actually called Borscht (case in point my refrigerator currently contains a lovely container of “Duchy Originals Organic Fresh Beetroot Soup with Dill”) and hence I was still living in the dark thinking I was a borscht hater. This trip to Moscow showed me the light. I, Dana E. B. am the biggest borscht-lover ever. The sweetness of the beets, mixed with the smokiness of a bit of pork, and a big ol’ dollop of sour cream is...well…as Belinda Carlisle once sang, “heaven is a place on earth.” For me, it resides in a big old bowl of Borscht soup.
