Lost in Translation

Some things are just lost in translation.

For example, my babushka will likely never understand my love of Nelly, to whom she hears me shaking my tailfeather through my bedroom wall a little too often.

She will probably never comprehend my b’dazzled style or my general refusal to wear pants after May 1–she thinks that my not wearing tights with skirts makes me a Woman Of The Night and at this point I think I am okay with it.

My babushka doesn’t get why No Brush Russia is a thing (5 months of tangled mane and going strong) and tells me that knotted hair is no way for a young woman to find herself a husband. Au contraire, dear grandma, au contraire.

There are a lot of things the two of us have come across in my time here but one we’ve spent a lot of time dancing around is my veganism (and not in the Nelly way). My babushka has been great since I’ve lived with her- she makes soup (and more soup) and really just lots o’ dishes vegan-ized for me, which I appreciate immensely. I’ve tried out some classic Russian stuff and tried not to let my vegan lifestyle hold me back from experiencing the culture of this country. All of that said, vegetarianism remains a острый (sharp, spicy) topic around 4th Sovietskaya Street.

The other day I was making an anatomy model of my body and asking my babushka the names of various bones. After explaining the clavicle (the word is like “key” cuz the bone moves in the shoulder socket like a key in a lock!) she told me that you need several servings of tvorog every day for bone strength. “And you, of course, do not eat any milk products. Just don’t complain to me when your bones break.”

Now, I know better than to launch into a vegan rant with anyone, and especially not with her. I have my reasons for being vegan and I believe in them but I’m not tryna get sass-ma-frassed by a 75-year-old wearing tinted glasses with a high enough prescription to make eyes look terrifying, a shoulder-padded dress last sported on Dynasty and fuzzy leopard print slippers. The reality is that we are women of different generations, different cultures. I came to Russia to learn the language and experience life with a family and I didn’t expect it to be butterflies and rainbows (both of those things were banned when the USSR collapsed anyhow).

I guess that what I’m saying it that even after 5+ months here I’m still mastering the give and take necessary in a relationship which crosses so many unconventional boundaries. Last week was my American friend Sasha’s birthday and my babushka wasted no time in telling me that the inside-joke present I’d put together was weird and un-present-like. “Why don’t you just get her a book?”

I’m still learning a lot of Russian (yesterday my babushka’s great-granddaughter taught me how to say boogers) but my education in Russia is wound in a different, maybe even more complex scheme of how to interact with people. My babushka and I may never see eye to eye on veganism but we had a pretty great moment a few days ago when I explained quinoa to her. Quinoa is not sold in Russia but I brought a package back with me from the States and showed it to the Bab. She tasted it and decided that this kasha (universal term for porridge) looked like the corn kasha I often eat for breakfast. “But more bitter.” I laughed and said I didn’t really like the taste when I’d first tried it but I’d gotten used to it. She laughed and said that the first five times she ate olives she hated them but the sixth she decided they were her favorite food.

Tonight I came home late from a ballet. I texted my babushka on the way home so that she wouldn’t worry or stay up like she usually does when I’m out late and don’t call. I shuffled in wearing my fancy shoes and went into the kitchen for some water. In the dark I noticed a pot on the stove. My babushka had made my breakfast:

We’re getting there.

My Babushka’s Borscht

Some things are inevitable.

It is inevitable that when I buy a new item of white clothing it will be dirty within four minutes of purchase.

It is inevitable that I will spill many a tear on my tacky 80’s pillow when in Russia because I miss kale and nutritional yeast.

It is inevitable that when I go to a club in a back alley in Russia by the name of “Jesus” I will dance with a guy and he will spin me over his shoulder (can someone please explain to me why this keeps happening?).

Most inevitable of all (inevitable-est) is the fact that I am posting a borscht recipe straight from my babushka’s top-secret old Russian woman vault.

Before I left for Russia I made my own borscht, which I liked but knew was far from authentic. My heart skipped a beet (punzzz) the day I came to the kitchen table and my Bab set a bowl of steamy hot borscht down at my place. Cabbage, beets, and the possibility of pink pee? Nothing better. Besides, her borscht is absolutely delicious. Can’t be beet. Alright, I’m done.

I finally got her to spill the juicy details of how to make this soup so damn good. I offered (begged) to help prepare it once but she promptly declined and demoted me to photographer/kitchen stalker while she sliced and diced her way to the masterpiece. My babushka believes her kitchen is her kingdom and my trying to help will cramp her style. We talk a lot about the importance of food as a means of bringing people together and how sitting around enjoying a meal is a tradition which we need to fiercely protect. I still haven’t gotten her to agree to let me help her but her resistance is futile. We will be the greatest cooking team there ever was. It’s inevitable.

My Babushka’s Borscht 

The taste of Russia in your mouth. 

• 1/2 head large cabbage, sliced thinly
• 1 large carrot, grated
• 1 small onion, chopped more finely than you think possible
• 3 potatoes, boiled, peeled, and sliced more finely than you think possible
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 5-6 cups water or vegetable stock
• 3 beets, boiled and shredded (pickled work best!)
• 3 teaspoons salt, or to taste
• 1 Tablespoon fresh dill
• 1 Tablespoon fresh parsley
• chopped green onion to garnish

1. Do all of the chopping. Combine cabbage, carrot, onion, potatoes, garlic, salt and water in a large pot. Bring to a boil then reduce to a simmer and cook for 25-30 minutes. Note: use pre-boiled potatoes and beets or the time will be a bunch longer and much redder.

2. About halfway through add the fresh herbs and shredded beets. Salt to taste. If not using pickled beets and want it to be bitter (the Russian way!), add the juice of 1/2 a lemon.

3. Garnish with green onion and fresh dill. Enjoy the feeling of real Russianness.

My Babushka’s Veggie Fried Rice

In our household, things run like clockwork. No, hold on, I said that wrong. Rather, clocks run like things in our household. There’s no joking around here on 4th Soviet Street, never, no way. [Particularly not when I wear my sparkly kitty sweater].

I come into the kitchen for breakfast sharply at 8:30. Breakfast table conversation can range from my dreams to whatever news is broadcasting on the TV to the weather. Yesterday we talked about her theory that aliens exist and are undoubtedly going to smite earth soon because humans suck (really). I leave for class at 9:00 and if I’m not ready my babushka stands outside my door and waits. If I can’t zip the janky zipper on my boots fast enough she hikes up her bathrobe, bends at the hips, squats on her 74 year old knees and does it for me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I come home between 18:00 and 18:30 (that’s 6:00 and 6:30 PM, noobs) and within two minutes a pot of soup is on the stove heating up. I put on my slippers, wash my hands, and take my place at the table. My babushka commands information out of me regarding my day, which can vary from the weather to my classes to recounting my misadventures dealing with people in public. Yesterday she told me that women lose their ability to have babies after 25. By the time my soup is hot I have been thoroughly quizzed and am thrilled to have something to put in my mouth to turn it from a two-sided conversation to a monologue (hers).

Dinner in Russia a two-part ordeal. After soup there is always a second course. This is one of the most simple and delicious ones my Bab makes. No joking around.

My Babushka’s Veggie Fried Rice

• 1 large onion, chopped very finely
• 1 carrot, shredded
• 2-3 cloves garlic, chopped very finely
• 3 cups cold prepared rice (brown, white, wild)
• 2 Tablespoons sunflower or vegetable oil
• salt and ground black pepper to taste
• fresh dill and green onion to garnish! (optional)

As with all of my babushka’s recipes, everything is done by taste. If she knew how the internet worked and were writing this herself she would stress the importance of doing things “по вкусу.” Nothing should be rigid, you should add as much salt as you like (if you are her, this is a lot). That being said;

1. Heat a skillet over a medium-low flame. Add 1 Tablespoon oil + chopped onion and garlic. Sauté until the onions are lightly browned and smell delicious (~8 mins). Push this to the side of the skillet.

2. Add grated carrot and add a bit more oil to the skillet. Cook 5 minutes or so, stirring occasionally until lightly brown and wilted. Push to the side.

3. Add cooked rice and 1 Tablespoon oil or enough to lightly coat the rice. Cook 5 minutes, mixing occasionally, then mix to combine with the vegetables on the side of the skillet. Cook the rice and veggies all together another 5-10 minutes until lightly browned and smelling delish.

Garnish with fresh herbs and agree with your Babushka that aliens definitely exist.

My Babushka’s Split Pea Soup

You guys know that my babushka is my BFF.

You’ve heard she’s bossy and understand that she’s full of bizarre homeopathic Russian remedies. But did you know she’s an amazing vegan cook? Before I got here I don’t think she knew either.

From time to time she makes fun of me for my bizarre tastes (I brought a smuggled bag of chia seeds out the other day and she had to get on a ladder and tear her raised eyebrows down from the ceiling), but on the whole she’s great at adapting her favorite traditional Russian recipes to my vegan guidelines. Split pea soup (Гороховой суп) is a Russki classic typically chock full of ham and served topped with enough dill to feed a Red Army. Fortunately for me, my babushka’s variation includes only the latter (dill is the new parsley, haven’t your heard?) and is DELICIOUS.

She uses onions and garlic from her husband Igor Konstantinovich’s granddaughter’s dacha (cottage) garden in the country and chops it up so fine it blows my mind. I always tell her my soups never turn out as well because I’m too impatient in my chopping and she looks and me with her glasses on the bridge of her nose and says “well, be more patient.”

That’s the trick to this and all of my Bab’s dishes: patience. I’m learning quickly that the most delicious things in life take time and the best recipes on this blog will never be quick-fixes. She told me earlier this week that she talks to all of her plants so they feel love and don’t get lonely. She cited an incident with a certain aloe plant where she overwatered it then repented for weeks with many a monologue. The point is that she brings care and attention to her food and everything in her life. Tonight I went to her great-grandson Danya’s violin concert with her. Danya is 13 and has a few concerts a month and my babushka doesn’t miss a single one. She takes two buses to get there (about 45 minutes of transit with the waits) and sits through an hour of other kids’ pieces for about 6 minutes of Danya fame. Her patience and willingness to put in time continue to impress me and I’m sure I’ll think back on her fondly some day when I’m eating raw oats with a spoon because I’m too lazy to even microwave them.

My Babushka’s Split Pea Soup

Fresh herbs and patience make this soup. The ingredient list is short so it’s worth investing in both.

• 2 cups dried split peas (горох)
• 2 medium potatoes, diced finely (картошка)
• 2 medium carrots, grated (марков)
• 2 small onions, diced finely (лук)
• a few cloves garlic, minced (чеснок)
• 1-2 teaspoons fresh dill, chopped (укроп)
• 1-2 teaspoons fresh celery, chopped (петрушка)
• 1-2 teaspoons fresh sorrel, chopped (щавель)
• 2 bay leaves (лавровые листи)
• 2-3 teaspoons salt, or to taste (соль)
• black pepper to taste (черный перец)

1. Pour the dried peas in a medium pot and cover with about two times as much water. Place over a medium flame, bring to a boil, then allow to simmer 30-40 minutes, stirring often to avoid burning.

2. Add the potatoes, grated carrot, onions, garlic, and herbs. Add another 2-3 cups water and bring to a boil once again. Boil 10-15 minutes or until potatoes are soft. Soup can be served at this stage but I recommend letting it simmer another 30 minutes or so on a low flame. Once the soup cools it thickens and has the greatest texture. Add water and stir as necessary to avoid burning.

Garnish with more dill (you’re Russian, after all) and devour at least 3 bowls a day. Your babushka would want you to.

Пышки

When I shuffled my dirty purple slippers into the kitchen this morning my babushka greeted me cheerily with a “с днем числа пи.” At first I had no idea what this meant and blinked at her while my пшенная каша (millet porridge) got cold. She tried again. “Числа пи! Числа пи.” She tried harder. “You know, like in math. Didn’t you ever study math?” I thought for a second. “Число” means number or quantity and “пи” is the pronunciation of the cyrillic letter “p” or “п.” PI DAY. TODAY IS PI DAY. MY BABUSHKA KNOWS PI DAY. Never has the sensation for me to hug her been so strong so I proclaimed da and started reciting digits for her. She got bored after 15 (I have memorized up to 60) and offered me some tea. I explained to her the pie/pi thing and told her how I usually bake apple or pumpkin ones on this day.

Well the closest we got this particular Pi Day were пышки (pyshki) – simple but tasty sugar–dusted donuts sold in funny little shops around the city. I’ll have to make them from scratch some time (they’re vegan by nature!) but for now here’s a picture to give you the idea. I enjoyed these little nuggets tonight with my Bab, her daughter, her granddaughter, and her two great-granddaughters. They ain’t no pie but it’s nothing to be irrational about.

New Words

It was bound to happen eventually.

This love affair of metro rides, 30 ruble beers, snowdrifts and sunflower seed halva I’ve been having lately with St. Petersburg has just been too sweet. (Seriously, have you ever tried halva? It’s what 6 future cavities taste like in the present).

Walking on the frozen Neva, ballet, cheap elektrichka rides up north to see the Bay of Finland – none of it seems entirely real and pretty much all of it seems too sophisticated and classy for my “laps are as good as napkins” self. Everything is exploding with beautiful and when free time rolls around I’m always a little flustered about what to visit. Recently I’ve been to Peter the Great’s “Cabinet of Curiosities” at Kunstkamera (proving, once again, Russia is normal and not creepy), the northern town of Vyborg, ice skating in the park at Pavlovsk, and jumping around at a ramble-rousin’ Maslenitsa celebration by Tsarskoe Selo in Pushkin.

When I said “it was bound to happen” I meant get sick. The water in St. Petersburg is notoriously bad (my host grandparents have this funky system where they collect drops from the bathroom faucet with a funnel, pour it through a filter, then boil it). I woke up this morning, downed my normal kasha* with banana and tea and hopped on the trolleybus to school. Five minutes into my first class I felt the wrath of 100,000 angry gremlins punching at my stomach and knew I wasn’t going to last there. I ended up getting sick and went home. Today I learned that “меня рвало”/”menya rvalo” means I puked! See how much I’m getting out of this experience? (Additionally “я блюю” means something a bit more crude like I’m yuking and is pronounced “ya blew-you.” Thanks, Mom and Dad for these education dollaz.

Anyway, I’m feeling a lot better and am taking this time at home to sleep and catch up on things like bloggin’. I’ve downed some crackers and am waiting for my babushka to come home from her weekly outing to feed me potions from a cauldron or rub mustard on me or something. Apparently that’s a thing.

With love and crackers crumbs,

Izzy

PS. I now have a flickr for loads more Mothaland shots!

*I am planning to do a post entirely devoted to kasha (porridge). Try to contain your excitement.

My Babushka’s Vegan Blini (Russian Pancakes! Happy Maslenitsa!)

Living with my Babushka, Marina Nikolaevna, has been замечательно so far. (Awesome). I have woken up on more than one occasion to her watching Russia’s answer to the Home Shopping Network and yelling at the TV whether she thought the prices were fair. From what I’ve gathered, they really aren’t.

Aside from being a highly opinionated shopper, my Bab is a great cook. She has exhibited every day since my arrival in the ice box we call Russia a characteristic which I value above all else in the kitchen: flexibility. Russia, as I have said before, is not a country for vegetarians. I’m fairly sure that smetana (sour cream) courses through Russians’ veins instead of blood (either that or vodka). My babushka has made delicious vegan meals for me day after day, noting what she leaves out from their meaty/eggy/cottage cheese-y equivalents. Still, when Maslenitsa arrived on the horizon she looked at me skeptically. You see, Maslenitsa is a week-long folk carnival with pagan/Orthodox roots that revolves mainly around eating these skinny pancakes called blini. Blini resemble French crêpes and are typically made with milk and eggs. When I assured her that it could be done my babushka gave me this look usually reserved for when I try to leave the house without a hat but agreed to try it out.

The result? Amazing. I had seven of them tonight and plan on having at least another dozen tomorrow morning. The secrets to the perfect blini are as follows:

• a very hot skillet. Cast iron. Small if you have/can find one! My babushka has one she uses exclusively for blini. Heat until it starts to smoke
• a very thin layer of oil. She uses sunflower and I recommend it, though coconut would probably be delicious too
• a thin, flat knife for flipping. I have attempted similar endeavors with a spatula and it will. not. work.
• take a small ladle and spoon it onto the skillet. Pick the skillet up and swivel your wrist to spread a thin layer all over the base. Don’t worry if they’re not perfectly round but aim to reach the edges
• patience! the first one will always suck. The second one will almost always suck. The third one will be a little burnt but good. By the end they’ll be perfect and golden like sunshine.

My Babushka’s Blini

She refuses to give me measurements for anything so this is from observing. Basically you want to achieve a loose batter which is much more watery than that of “pancakes” but has some girth to it when you pick it up with a spoon. Add flour and water as necessary plus salt/sugar to taste.

• 4 cups water
• 2 cups wheat flour
• 3 Tablespoons sugar
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 2 Tablespoons sunflower oil, plus more for the pan

1. Combine all of the ingredients in a large bowl and use a handheld mixer to stir. I would say just use a spoon but you reallllly want it to be smooth so borrow one from a friend or your grandma. Mix until all ingredients are incorporated.

2. Heat a small skillet over medium heat. Once it starts to smoke reduce to a low flame. Add a bit of oil to your skillet. Holding the pan in your hand, spoon in a medium ladle’s worth of batter and swivel with your wrist to spread the batter over the base. Cook until the center solidifies and bubbles a bit, 3-4 minutes or longer. Pop any large bubbles with a knife.

3. Flip! Use your flat knife to loosen the edges then lift from the center. As my Bab said infinity times “the second side cooks quickly!” so you’ll only need to cook it another minute or so.

Enjoy with: jam, fruit, vegan nutella, nut butters, maple syrup, chocolate, whatever! They’re also amazing with savory so take that wherever your heart desires. As long as you’re wearing your hat.