LOLobio (Georgian Herbed Beans)

Sorry for the long-time-no-post, my friends! I’ve been rather busy lately with a wide variety of activities such as trying to understand Russian fashion, watching penguincam, hanging out with Russian children because they’re the only ones who understand my speech, getting gum stuck in my hair, and not doing my laundry. #YOLO!

Last week, however, I had the opportunity to visit my babushka’s dacha (dah-cha: Russian word for small summer homes or shacks in the far, rural outskirts of cities). My bab and I giggled and braided each others hair while her daughter, granddaughter and great-granddaughter made us food and fetched water from the well. Still a thing. #whoknew?

One of the dishes my babushka’s daughter, Nina, made us was this BOMB Georgian (think Soviet Union, not peaches) dish called Lobio. It’s basically kidney beans with minced herbs and is the food equivalent of Beyoncé in that it makes me want to dance and I love it. Here’s the recipe!

Lobio (Georgian Herbed Bean Dish)

• 1 cup dried kidney beans, soaked & boiled (OR 2-3 cups canned)
• 1/4 cup olive oil
• 1/4 cup red wine vinegar (or to taste)
• 1/2 small onion, very finely chopped (optional)
• 1-2 cloves garlic, finely minced
• 1 small tomato, very finely chopped
• 1/3 cup finely chopped fresh cilantro
• 1/4 cup finely chopped fresh parsley
• 1/4 cup finely chopped fresh dill
• salt and fresh ground pepper to taste

1. Soak the kidney beans overnight. Pour into a large pot and cover with water by 2 inches. Place on a medium flame, add a bit of salt, bring to boil, then simmer on low until the beans are soft but not mushy-about 1 hour. If using canned, skip step 1!
2. Once the beans are ready, drain and set to cool. Once cooled, add the oil, vinegar, onion, garlic, tomato, fresh herbs, salt and pepper.
3. Serve! This dish is great because you can pretty much do whatever you want with it. Traditionally it is sometimes topped with chopped walnuts, includes fresh mint or even plums. Go wild! Live the dream!

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.

Crazy/Busy

Hello friends.

It’s been a while since we’ve talked. I’m currently so unabashedly watching the finale of Dancing with the Stars with my mom double fisting blueberries and granola #thingsIcan’tdoinRussia? All I’m sayin is if Donald Driver doesn’t win heads are gonna roll at ABC. Anyway, the last few weeks have been Crazy/Busy (I write it like that, of course, in the format of the second best Kirsten Dunst movie of all time after Bring It On, the classic piece of cinematography Crazy/Beautiful). To give you an idea, in the days of late I have:

• been on a roll of going into stores, painting my nails then leaving

• awkwardly walked in on my babushka deeply involved in conversation with her plants on more than one occasion
• celebrated Victory Day/День победы (one of the largest holidays in Russia) with fireworks and stoop beers

• passed my final exams, fingers crossed (jk mom and dad! definitely passed!!!)
• went to my first Russian doctor’s appointment where I was, upon arrival, promptly asked to remove my shirt (I had a cold.)
• said so long see ya later to Russian friends
• and said so long see ya later to Russia

• travelled on three planes for 25 glorious, sleepless hours

• came home. ate kale.

• went and celebrated my cuz’n Lucas graduating collegio in style

• aaaaaaaand obviously made some bomb new foods. After a serious lack of cooking in Russia I’ve been more productive lately than a newly married Mormon couple. I have three new recipes for you! I will post them one at a time but here’s a sneak peek…

[chickpea quinoa falafel]

[BBQ grilled tofu and portobellos with homemade BBQ sauce]

[no-bake chocolate chip cookies]

Now that’s Crazy/Beautiful.

Trip of Steppic Proportions

You know how when people talk about travel they always say stuff like “destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things,” or “experience, travel – these are as education in themselves” or “a ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for”? Well when I say “people” I mean  “no one”, and when I say “stuff” I mean “things I would actually say only after I’d Google image searched ‘larvae’ and plucked every hair from my head,” but I digress.

Last week I took a nine day trip to the south of Russia with the group of American students studying at my university. We took a 30 hour train ride south to Rostov-on-Don, where I took the opportunity to wade in the Don River and sing the classic Sisqo hit “The Don Song” (let me see that Don-da-don-don-don).

We drove around for about 5 more days in a ghetto bus with a velour interior and outer space-themed curtains. We went camping on the Steppe (I took this opportunity to make a million “Steppe” puns- lemme see you one, two Steppe), went to the largest Buddhist temple in Europe, spit off a bridge which unites Europe and Asia (my saliva was forever lost in the continental divide), visited a place called “Chess City,” and ate delicious Armenian food.

Traveling as a vegan can be a hit-or-miss experience, depending how flexible you’re willing to be. I prepared before we left (lugged instant oats, almond butter and dried apricots around a good portion of southwestern Russia) and every time we were near a store I stopped in to stock up on whatever fresh/dried fruit, fresh/canned veg, nuts, canned beans, bread, or dark chocolate I could find. I was lucky in that I was largely in control of my meals and unlucky in that I explored the frightening world of Russian preserved vegetables. FYI, pickled cauliflower is only OK.

On the other side of this trip I can say a few things about travel.

1) Preparation is key but you can’t anticipate everything (flat tires in the middle of absolute nowhere, nothing vegan except pickles and vodka for meals, etc). Flexibility is always a good thing but especially on the high open seas

2) Unexpected friends from random places are the best friends. I met some unlikely characters along the way (re: friends who make balloon animals together on a 40 hour train ride stay together). When we were at a stop along the way in a town called Voronezh I befriended a toothless woman who felt a Christmas sweater was appropriate for the 80 degree weather and gave me a free ice cream. When she found out I was from the US she petted my dirty train hair and cooed “Amehhhhhdeeka, Amehhhhdeeka!” and told me how she had a feeling she’d see me again on the television one day.

3) Steppe softly and carry a big stick.

*Almost all of these pictures were taken by my talented friend Sashinka (known to the rest of the world as Alex Bird). GIRL GOT SKILL.

How to Build a Cheese Pyramid

Nothing in Russia is a medium-sized deal.

The options are twofold:

• huge, glitzy and over-the-top
• bare-bones, dirty and offensively underwhelming

For example, it’s perfectly acceptable to walk on the street in 8 inch platform rhinestone stilettos and a mini dress when it’s snowing. Preferred, even. This last week alone I saw a Bentley stretch limo, a neon orange Cadillac Escalade and a sleek matte-textured Jaguar. Today I saw a lady at the gym wiping her butt sweat with a Louis Vuitton towel. There’s a chance that once a tiny child next to me on the bus had a grill, though it could have been something else, it all happened very fast.

I’ve been told that the average Russian would choose a nice car and a crappy apartment over the reverse any day of the week. I would not say that Russians are materialistic outright (okay, maybe) but rather they really really appreciate the aesthetic. That’s why I was only moderately surprised when the Russian Orthodox Easter rolled around this year and people went ape wild for beautiful food preparation, eccentric egg dying and very public Jesus lovin’. I was touched when my babushka offered (forced) me to help make (singlehandedly make) the “paskha”— literally an enormous pyramid of cream cheese, butter, sugar, and raisins. Well sure, I said! Since those are my favorite foods and I eat them all the time.

Before I came to Russia I made a deal with myself that if quintessential Russian cultural experiences came up I would consider trying non-vegan foods. In almost 2.5 years of veganism I haven’t broken it for anything so I was kind of nervous at the prospect (re: nervous for my bowels [re: this is my blog and I don’t care if everyone is grossed out at me talking about my bowels]) of trying something so rich. In the end I tried enough to taste the flavors (rich and sweet) and to not offend my babushka. She clearly took this as an opportunity to hint at eating dairy full time (cuz I will not be able to birth children if I stay vegan, or something), but at the end of the day seemed pretty pleased I was part of the tradition.

So I know this is a vegan blog. But it’s called VeganIZZM which in this case means this is a little more about my life and all of the ridiculous things it involves. If you’re interested in learned a bit about Russia or want to create a really Egyptian looking pile of cheese read further.

My Babushka’s Paskha

If you can find a way to veganize this and make it not disgusting I will be impressed.

• 5 cups tvorog (Russian cottage/cream cheese, available in Russian stores)
• 1 cup butter, softened
• 1 cup sugar
• 1/2 cup raisins (soaked overnight to soften)
• 1/4 cup chopped apricots
• zest of 1 lemon

1. Push the tvorog through a sieve with the back of the spoon. This will take forever and make you very cynical about the whole experience.

2. Mix it up real good with softened butter, fruits and sugar. Pour into a cheese cloth-lined mould* and place in the fridge overnight.

*your mould should be pyramid shaped, made of cardboard, held together by string and at least 25 years old.

In the mean time, dye eggs. If you’re vegan don’t eat them.

3. On the day of your celebration carefully flip and remove from the mould.

Enjoy with a lovely Easter spread (those cakes are called “kulich” and they’re basically like spongey bread/challah with dried fruits inside.

Like I said. When Russians do it up, they do it right.

On Cabbage Soup and Bun-fights

Here’s a piece of advice for you:

When your parents travel 4,000 miles to visit you in a foreign city and are on their way to meet your host parents please, for the love of kale, do not lose them.

It may be tempting to watch them teeter through the crowds of slick metrosexual men and fur-clad, stiletto-sporting gazelles but I’m telling you it’s no good. If and when you accidentally get on different busses in downtown St. Petersburg you will go through a set of emotions something like this: scared, amused, annoyed, confused, amused, scared, bored, nervous, hungry, scared and then you’ll realize you’re never going to see your parents again. Soon enough a random woman named Olga will be calling you to tell you she found some people who claim to know you and you will reconsider your belief in God. More likely than not you’ll hear your mom shrieking in the background “ISABELLE! HER NAME IS ISABELLE!”

Like I said, that’s no good. As you’ve guessed by now said situation happened to me last week when my parents came to St. Petersburg. We eventually made it to my apartment where my babushka had cleaned everything until it freakin’ sparkled. Russian women do not kid around about impressing guests. We walked in and despite the fact that I come into our three room apartment every day I was struck by how much everything looked like heaven. My babushka had bullied me into cleaning my room for weeks and I gotta say it paid off. We shall ignore the pile of gum, dirty bras, grammar assignments and chia seeds occupying my floor at the current moment.

The royal We plus my mom, dad, babushka and dedushka [grandpa] had what is called a чаепитие “chaepitie,” which I would translate as a tea party but Google Translate prefers “bun-fight.” Alright then.

This meeting was one of those things that I knew before during and after I would want to remember forever. Like, if you knew this cast of characters you’d understand that it was 100% guaranteed ridiculousness. I served as the translator and knowingly chuckled to myself the entire time while all parties smiled shifty grins and laughed uneasily at each other. Highlights: Igor Konstantinovich offering my dad vodka shots with a flick of the throat—universal Russian sign for let’s get drunk, babushka repeatedly telling my parents to eat more, my parents looking terrified, my babushka saying that she thinks of me as a granddaughter, my mom getting very emotional about it all, my mom crying, me telling my babushka “my mom’s very emotional,” my mom telling me “tell her I’m emotional!,” a huge plate of VEGAN BLINI, and, most importantly, so many people I love in one tiny, food-filled Russian kitchen. When I came to Russia I was nervous about a lot of things but finding a new family was definitely at the top of the list. Living with the Bab and the Ded has given me a new sense of family (a traditional, bossy, Soviet-style family, but family nonetheless) which I would not trade for any other family in any other city in any other part of the world.

Witnessing the fear on my parents’ faces when posed with the challenging of eating their weight in blini brought joy to my heart. The fact that my Russian grandparents were able to meet two of the people I love and admire most in the world was very special. As I like to say, this is a vegan blog so I’ll keep it from getting super cheesy but this is definitely going in my lifetime experience hall of fame along with that time I had a “Soviet Bloc out with your Cock Out” party and served only vodka and no chasers. I’ll tell you about it later.

Anyway, there’s nothing like family on family on family to make you feel loved. Speaking of love, my dad is newly in love with shchi, Russia’s second favorite soup after borscht. By coincidence my Bab made it this week so here is a recipe for y’all:

My Babushka’s Cabbage Soup (Shchi)

Don’t skimp on good quality vegetables. They’re worth it.

• 1 onion, minced
• 2-3 Tablespoons oil (sunflower or olive)
• 1/2 large head fresh cabbage, chopped
• 1 carrot, shredded
• 5-6 cups water or vegetable stock
• 2-3 small potatoes, boiled, peeled, sliced
• 2-3 Tablespoons chopped parsley
• 2 bay leaves
• 2-3 teaspoons salt, or to taste
• sugar to taste (Russian trick)
• black pepper to taste

1. Heat a frying pan and add 2 Tbs oil, onion, cabbage, and carrot. Sauté “to preparedness” (Russians love this phrase) over a medium flame, ~7-10 minutes. Add salt to taste.

2. Transfer the sautéed vegetables to a pot. Fill halfway with water/veg stock and bring to a boil. Add chopped parsley and bay leaves. Bring to a boil then remove the foam on top and reduce flame to minimum.

3. Add the chopped potatoes and garlic. Add salt and sugar to taste. (While sugar may seem strange in a savory dish it actually makes the flavors pop and even a teaspoon or two can work well). Cover and simmer on a low flame 10-15 minutes. 5 minutes before it’s ready add black pepper to taste.

Serve hot with some good black bread. Make it for your family, whoever that may be.

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.