Russian and Soviet Cuisine - Part One

Today, we start a two-part series about the incredible cuisines of Russia and the Soviet Union. 

Transcript

Episode 288 – Russian and Soviet Cuisine – Part One

Last time, we covered the Soviet-Afghanistan War. Today, we change gears and try a more lighthearted and tasty topic: Russian and Soviet Cuisine. When I first came up with this idea, I expected a single episode. After gathering my resources, that thought would have been shameful as Russian and even Soviet cuisine deserves much, much more.

My resources included The Food and Cooking of Russia by Elena Makhonko, Russian Cookbook by Kira Pertrovskaya, The Russian Heritage Cookbook by Lynn Visson, Beyond the North Wind by Darra Goldstein, CCCP Cookbook: True Stories of Soviet Cuisine and Mastering the Art of Soviet Cooking by Anya Von Bremzen.

Today, I’m hoping to take you on a mouth-watering tour of my favorite Russian dishes, as well as talk about the struggles that Soviet cooks had with all of the shortages that they endured between 1917 and 1991. While the Soviet era was fraught with tough times, there are some real gems to discuss and, hopefully, enjoy.

I will admit right from the start that some of what I will be describing as traditional Russian dishes may cause a great deal of controversy amongst those with Russian, Ukrainian, or other Slavic ancestry. There are so many ways of making each dish that there is no real right way, just the one you like the most. If you want to discuss your version, please go to the Facebook Russian Rulers History group and share your thoughts.

I thought long and hard about how I would lay out the story of Russian and Soviet cuisine, but it came down to my memories and stories that surrounded my childhood and all of the wonderful meals that accompanied it. Additionally, I'll give a bit of history to some of the dishes and how they became part of the everyday life of the people of Russia and those who emigrated to other countries.

Russian cuisine, according to some historians, is divided into four distinct eras: Old Russian cuisine, which covered the ninth to the sixteenth century; Old Moscow cuisine, found in the seventeenth century, the cuisine was introduced during the reigns of Peter and Catherine the Great, and finally, Petersburg cuisine also thought of as the French era, which took place from the end of the eighteenth century to the 1860s.

Research I've uncovered indicated that there were many reasons for the types of cooking done in the first two eras because of the types of ovens found in Russia. In the pre-Petrine time, most of the ovens, known as masonry stoves, were open and would start off blazing hot, which was conducive to making breads and pies. The main food groups cooked when the oven was hot were bread, grains, and other foods containing starch. As the ovens began to cool, they would make other foods like porridge, fish, and the occasional meats that required less heat. At the lowest temperatures, they would braise vegetables and other slow-cooked dishes.

With the reforms of Peter the Great came a new type of stove known as the Dutch range. This was more like what we are used to today as it would cook the foods in pots and pans on top instead of inside an oven. This would lead to more complex dishes with greater variety. 

This would change with the reign of Peter the Great as he introduced Western means of cooking, including stovetop methods. Soups and the use of minced meats would become popular. In the last era, the introduction of French, German, and Italian foods would enter Russian cuisine. 

Of course, there was a significant disparity between what was available to the peasants versus the wealthier Russians. This would be more apparent due to the harsh conditions caused by the long and brutal winters. This would lead to many of the famines that would plague Russian history. Crop failures would hit the poorest members of society far more than the more affluent people. 

The most influential part of Russian society regarding food was, of course, the Orthodox Church. They split the year between feasts and fasts, with the latter accounting for approximately ½ of the days of the year. I remember how strict my mother was about keeping the fasts, especially the major ones, like the six weeks before Easter. 

Now that we're done with the history of Russian cuisine let's get into the actual dishes that make it so unique. While there are literally hundreds of foods that define Russian cuisine, I will be talking about those I have the most connections to, which is extensive.

My first is one I will prepare this weekend with my wife. We have made this time and time again during our 28-year marriage as she and the rest of my family would crave it. The dish is known as pelmeni. 

When you make pelmeni, you don't make a few; you make hundreds, or in the case of my mother's church, they would make thousands to sell, raising money for the church. While researching this quintessential Russian dish, I actually came upon the pelmeni.com website. Here is what they said about this scrumptious meal, "Pelmeni forms the heart of Russian cuisine and culture. It is served in every Russian restaurant and cooked in homes across the country, and every family likes to think it has its own special recipe.

So what is pelmeni? A type of dumpling consisting of a particular filling wrapped in thin, uneven dough usually accompanied with plenty of sour cream. The fillings can vary but essentially are minced meat (pork, beef or sometimes lamb), fish or mushrooms. They can be very spicy depending on the amount of herbs, onions, and black pepper used in the seasoning.”

What I remember growing up as a kid was my mom making the fillings on whatever we had available. If it was fish or beef, she would add finely chopped onions and parsley. She would roll out the dough very thin and lay the small clumps of filing on the dough. She would then roll them into the little dumplings that would be frozen and stored to use in the future when we needed to when things were financially tight. Of course, she would make a batch for dinner that night, which always excited me, except when it was a fish pelmeni. That was never my favorite, but it wasn't bad enough not to eat. 

It is often served in a bit of broth, followed by a dollop of smetana. Smetana is the name for the types of sour cream traditionally found in Central, Eastern, and Southeastern Europe. It is a dairy product produced by souring heavy cream. It is similar to crème fraîche, which is 28% fat, but nowadays, it is mainly sold with 9% to 42% milkfat content, depending on the country.

Next up is another of my personal favorites, a soup known as shchi or cabbage soup. When sauerkraut is used instead, the soup is called sour shchi, while soups based on sorrel, spinach, nettle, and similar plants are called green shchi. My mom and grandmother used to call this a version of borscht, which is technically accurate. Interestingly, when I brought my wife-to-be to my parent's house, my mother called me to tell me she was making borscht for her. I thought this would be the cabbage soup I was so used to. No, it was borscht with beets, a vegetable my wife does not like in the least bit. She did eat it, but that was the very last time.

Shchi can be made in so many ways that it is truly versatile, which perfectly lends itself to the many scarcities that Russian families endured over the centuries. The history of shchi goes back to Kievan Rus after the Byzantines introduced cabbage to their northern neighbors. There were three main reasons why this dish became so important and beloved: It was simple to make. Second, meat could be added when available, even fish. Thirdly, you could easily freeze it and take it with you to warm up when needed.

Our third dish is also a soup and the most famous of all, borscht. While typically it has a base of beets that make it red, there are many other varieties, such as sorrel-based green borscht, rye-based white borscht, and the aforementioned cabbage borscht. It is typically made by combining meat or bone stock with sautéed vegetables, which – as well as beetroots – usually include cabbage, carrots, onions, potatoes, and tomatoes. Depending on the recipe, borscht may include meat or fish or be purely vegetarian; it may be served either hot or cold. This is another example of the versatility that represents Russian cuisine. 

Borscht is an ancient food that pre-dates Kievan Rus and is found predominantly in Eastern Slavic communities. Over the years, it has evolved into so many staples in almost every Slavic country, from Ukraine, where it started, to Armenia, Iran, Czech, Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia, and even as far east as China. 

Within Russian cuisine, a popular version was with sausage, something that was promoted during Soviet times by Anastas Mikoyan. Others include Siberian style borscht, characterized by meatballs; Pskov borscht with dried smelt from the local lakes; monastic Lenten borscht with marinated kelp instead of cabbage; and the Russian Navy borscht (flotsky borshch), whose defining characteristic is that the vegetables are cut into square or diamond-shaped chunks rather than julienned.

Porridge is considered one of the most essential dishes in Russian cuisine. Although many purists might disagree, Kasha is pretty much any grain cooked together to form a porridge. In the last episode, I mentioned how I had a humorous story about Kasha. About fifteen years ago, I headed back to New York City to teach a class that allowed me to meet with one of my old high school buddies, Wayne. He suggested we try a Russian restaurant on the east side of Manhattan. 

The décor and ambiance were classic Russian, with rugs on the walls and semi-dark lighting. The waiter asked what we wanted to drink, and we both responded with a shot of vodka. The waiter thought it was a wise choice, especially after we asked for it to be cold. After we had our drink, we placed our food order. I asked for some pirozhki, which I'll discuss in a while, with some beef stroganoff, another dish I'll discuss. He asked if I wanted it with noodles, potatoes, or kasha. I, being adventurous, replied that I'd take it with kasha. He gasped and said, and I quote, "Kasha? You want kasha? Nobody likes kasha." Both Wayne and I laughed, and the waiter tried to convince me to change my order, to no avail. While it wasn't the finest choice I have ever made in a restaurant, it wasn’t half bad.

Kasha is genuinely an adaptable meal with so many types of grains that can be incorporated into it. The most popular buckwheat, millet, semolina, oats, barley, and even rice. Sometimes, they are cooked in milk, other times in a broth. For those better off during the pre-Soviet times, it was typically eaten as a side dish with various meats and fish served as the main course. 

Now, we head over to the appetizer side of Russian cuisine with one of my favorites, pirozhki. Pirozhki, a diminutive of pirogi, is a baked doughy comfort food made of yeast-leavened dough, with filling wholly enclosed. The filings could be ground meat, mashed potato, mushrooms, boiled egg with scallions, or cabbage; I've had them all and then some. You could also make a sweet version using fruits like apples, cherries, apricots, lemons, jam, or tvorog, which is a kind of white fermented cheese.

Blini was something I remembered from my childhood that my mother or grandmother would make for brunch after church services on Sunday. They are thin griddle cakes similar to crepes, traditionally made with buckwheat flour and yeasted batter. It would be topped or filled with butter, smetana, fruit preserves, or caviar. I absolutely loved the fruit version, although the caviar topping with smetana is one of my favorites as an adult. Blin, the singular name for the dish, pre-dates Kievan Rus and has been a staple for millennium. 

One of my favorite memories of the time of Easter Lent was two dishes that were made towards the end, preparing for the breaking of the fast: kulich and paskha. Kulich is baked in tall, cylindrical tins; my mother and grandmother made them in old coffee cans, which they saved throughout the year. When cooled, it is decorated with white icing, which slightly drizzles down the sides, and colorful flowers or, in my family's case, sweet sprinkles. The smell in our kitchen was absolutely divine, but we were not allowed to try any of it until after the Easter Sunday service. The torture was sublime.

Typically, kulich was served with paskha, that sweet, soft dessert made from tvorog, or cottage cheese, which is white, symbolizing the purity of Christ, the Paschal Lamb, and the joy of the Resurrection. It is made in a triangular mold with the letters XB inside, which would show up on the paskha when finished and unveiled. The XB translates to Christ is Risen or Christos Vos Cracy. This is the greeting you would give to a fellow Russian Orthodox Christian for the six weeks following Easter Sunday, with the proper response being Vyistinoo Vos Cracy or He is Risen Indeed. 

Aside from the tvorog, additional ingredients, such as butter, eggs, smetana, raisins, almonds, vanilla, spices, and candied fruits, can be used. Typically, the paskha is cooked and then cooled slowly. Afterward, it is placed in a traditional wooden mold assembly called a pasochnitsa, with a layer of cheesecloth protecting the mold. Then, it would be kept in a cold but not freezing environment like a refrigerator or a cold cellar. I have to tell you, my whole family would be drooling over the thought of having some paskha and kulich after Easter.

Fish was one of the most important of the proteins that many Russians and, in particular, peasants would eat, especially during Lent, when other forms of meat were forbidden. There were numerous freshwater varieties, such as carp, sturgeon, salmon, pike, pike, and trout. They would be preserved via salting, smoking, or pickling. To this day, I love my pickled herring and smoked salmon for breakfast, much to my family's disdain.

Another staple in the Russian cuisine is kotlety. Think Salsbury Steak. It is minced meat, typically beef or pork, and in more modern times, chicken, although fish can also be used. You would bring ground meat, pork, onions, and bread together in a bowl and mix thoroughly until you have a firm consistency. Some would coat it with breadcrumbs, while others, including my family, would leave that out and deep fry them until golden brown. My family would top the kotlety with a creamy mushroom sauce along with the all-important, smetana. 

One dish I rarely was able to chow down in my youth is known as aspic, jellied meat known in Russian as kholodets. It is jellied chopped pieces of pork or veal meat with some spices, as well as some chopped-up pieces of carrots and other vegetables. Thankfully, it wasn't a staple in the Schauss house; otherwise, there might have been a significant revolt amongst the men of the family.

One of the things I learned about Russian cuisine, especially regarding meat, is that nothing, and I mean nothing, is left behind. All of the animal is used as it was considered disrespectful of the animal to leave anything unused. The liver, tongue, and several sweetbreads like the thymus and pancreas would be prepared in various ways. Typically, in old Russia, the peasants would be allowed to use those parts of the cow or lamb that the nobility would think were beneath them. It would lead to all sorts of novel and unusual means of preparation, many of which I will avoid recounting today as they can be pretty bizarre based on our present-day palates. 

Our last Russian classic is the one that is likely to be the best-known in the world, and that would be Beef Stroganoff. This is the one thing my mother could make, as well as anything else. It would only be for those special occasions when good friends would come to our little apartment in New York City. Everyone wanted to be invited as the meal was so special, so delicious that it would make your mouth water for the week leading up to the Saturday evening feast.

Legend suggests that its invention comes from French chefs working for the Stroganoff family, but others point out that the recipe is a refined version of older Russian dishes. The use of noodles as the base of the dish is likely the more elegant version as there are others who use thinly sliced fried potatoes while, as I mentioned earlier, kasha could be substituted.

Whatever the truth, the dish is basically thinly sliced pieces of beef, beef, or veal broth along with onions, mushrooms, and dill with copious quantities of smetana mixed in and topping the meal as well. Other versions, those I prefer when making it myself, include both mustard and tomato paste, which helps to richen the sauce and adds depth of flavor.

The last class of dishes we will talk about today is what is known as zakuski. It is akin to appetizers but so much more as it is a part of an authentic Russian dining experience. In his work The Siren, Anton Chekhov wrote, "The best zakuska, if you want to know, is herring. You eat a piece of it with a little onion and with mustard sauce, right away. While you still feel the sparks in your stomach, eat caviar, plain or, if you wish, with a bit of lemon, then a bit of salted radish, then again some radish, then again with some herring, but best of all… saffron milk-cap mushrooms – if you chop them up as fine as caviar, and see, eat them with onion, with olive oil… What a feast!

Two of the more popular zakuski’s are open-faced sandwiches, often made with either pumpernickel or rye bread. They usually only have two or three ingredients, often chosen for contrasting flavors, color, and texture. Fish, caviar, ham, and eggs are commonly used along with butter, horseradish, lemon juice, and mustard. The other is stuffed eggs. The eggs are hardboiled, with the yolk being removed and combined with all sorts of ingredients. Cooked and minced chicken liver, ham, sardines, or anchovies, along with the identical additions as with the open-faced sandwiches. 

Well, I hope you enjoyed today’s episode. Join me next time when we continue our journey into Russian and Soviet cuisine. We will enter the world of soups, salads, fish, and drinks. 

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