The Soviet Diet Cookbook: exploring life, culture and history – one recipe at a time. Anna Kharzeeva
grams beef or lamb filet
3 medium-sized onions
3 bulbs garlic
100 grams chickpeas
Handful of raisins
1 Tbsp cumin
100—125 mL oil
Salt to taste
A day before cooking the plov, cook the chickpeas, or buy pre-cooked canned chickpeas and rinse them.
Put the raisins into some warm water in a separate bowl when you start cooking.
1.Pour oil into the pan and heat it until it is very hot.
2.Cut up the meat into either small pieces or into 3—4 big ones. Put the meat into the pan and fry until it has a red crust; don’t stir it much.
3.Add onions, cut into rings or half rings. Fry until the onion gets red.
4.Add carrots, cut into strips. Don’t reduce the heat, fry until the carrots get softer.
5.Add cold water and put in chickpeas and whole garlic bulbs. Leave it for 30min without stirring; reduce the heat when the water boils.
6.Add salt, cumin, raisins and rice in one layer. There should be an inch of water on top of the rice, if there is not enough, add more water.
7. Make sure the rice cooks equally. Rotate the pot if you’re cooking on an electric stove. Move rice around with a big spoon, but don’t touch the meat and vegetables on the bottom.
8. Serve on a big plate with garlic and meat on top, add some spring onions.
8. A necessity for the Russian cook. Sour cabbage
When I started this project, I was prepared for a few errors along the way, and sour cabbage was the first serious one. This local take on sauerkraut is a suitable addition to any lunch or dinner. It is made throughout Russia mostly by older women who share their recipes as though they were the most exciting story ever. They belong to a kind of “cabbage club,” and I’ve witnessed a few of the meetings.
I had to stop my grandmother from using the exciting opportunity to tell me her version of the gripping tale. I have to follow the recipe in the Book, I told her. Much to her delight, I failed miserably. She laughed and told me to throw my cabbage out.
Now that the crisis is over I have to analyze where I went wrong. First, I couldn’t find a glass jar in any of the shops nearby. However, the Book says you can use a clay pot, and I had one at home. The recipe said to put pressure on the pot, so I got a jar of pickled ginger and put it on some little wooden slats to weigh it down. Then there was the birch stake I was supposed to impale the cabbage with – not one of the selection I had worked to stab the cabbage effectively. Granny said I had cut the cabbage too thickly, didn’t squeeze it enough, used too small a pot and didn’t have nearly enough pressure on top. She once again offered her own recipe. I promised to think about it.
I seem to be the first female in my family who can’t make sour cabbage. My great-grandmother apparently made it all the time. I remembered the story she told me about one occasion in her late teens:
“During the civil war, which lasted several years after the revolution, we lived in Kiev and the government changed eight times in a very short space of time. My family [parents and 6 siblings] had guests over – imagine how many people there were with each of us bringing a friend or two! We were playing games and missed the curfew, which meant everyone had to stay overnight. My mother was terrified as there was no food in the house. So my friend and I went to the basement and got some potatoes, some sour cabbage, pickles and pickled tomatoes out of wooden barrels, and set a beautiful table with just the four types of food. We still had beautiful plates and cutlery, so it looked very formal. I went into the living room and said ‘I’d like to invite everyone to the dining room.’ My mother looked terrified, as she knew there was no food in the house. Everyone was stunned at the dinner we’d scraped together.”
My great-grandmother would tell that story at almost every dinner. I always liked the idea of a fun atmosphere of so many young people playing games together, eating a simple dinner, then playing again until the curfew was lifted in the morning and they could go home. Pickled vegetables really can make any meal better, even during a civil war.
I was determined to get better at this, so I asked Granny for her recipe after all.
Recipe:
Sour cabbage can be made in wooden tubs. A small amount (5—10kg) can be pickled in glass jars or clay pots. Choose good heads of cabbage without green leaves, cut the heads into strips and mix with salt (250g of salt for 10kg of cabbage).
Cover the bottom of the cleaned tub with a tiny layer of rye flour, cover it with cabbage leaves and then put as many cabbage strips inside as possible. Cover the top with cabbage leaves. To add flavor and aroma, you can add carrots cut into circles, apples (the antonovka kind), cowberries and cranberries. Put a wooden circle on top of the tub and weigh it down with a clean stone. After several days, the cabbage will start to sour and a layer of foam will appear on the top.
The amount of foam will first increase and then disappear. When the foam is gone, the cabbage is ready.
During the souring process, poke the cabbage frequently with a clean birch stake to release gas. If it happens, that means that the cabbage is sour and ready. If mold or crystals appear on the top during the process, remove it carefully and continue souring.
Granny’s recipe:
3 kg cabbage
1 carrot
2 tablespoons rock salt
2 tablespoons sugar
6—7 liter enamel saucepan
Take the top leaves off the cabbage. Put some at the bottom of a saucepan and leave some to put on top. Slice up the rest of the cabbage leaves into fine strips, add the salt and sugar. Squeeze the cabbage, add it to the saucepan and push it down.
Cover with the remaining whole leaves, put a flat plate on the cabbage, and set a 3-liter glass jar of water on top of the plate. Add enough water into the cabbage to cover the plate.
After 24 hours, take the jar and plate off and poke through the cabbage with a knife to let the air out. Leave it open for 60—90 minutes. Replace the plate and jar. Continue this process once a day for 2 days. After 3 days, put the cabbage into smaller jars, close tightly and store in the refrigerator.
9. A circle of sunshine for a gray day. Pancakes with pumpkin puree
November was well and truly settling in when I made this recipe. It’s not the best time of year in Moscow – gray, cold, rainy, and the days get very short. For those affected by it, SAD (seasonal affective disorder) has spread its wings by now. SAD must be a recent phenomenon, because when someone is down, Granny says: “He/she has… it’s called… dep-res-sion!” Her look implies that Soviets only learned the term to talk about modern-day “softies” and certainly never had time for it themselves.
In Russian, the words for “recipe” and “prescription” are the same: “retsept.” Luckily there’s a pumpkin pancake recipe in the Book – in the “old recipes” section – as a prescription to cure that “softie” SADness. It looks like the perfect comfort food. It grabbed me when I saw it in summer, but I patiently waited till it was autumn and I could justify making a pumpkin recipe.
Pancakes have been around for a long time in Russia. Round, hot and golden, they remind us of the sun, and are therefore baked during Maslenitsa – the pagan holiday of welcoming spring, during which pancakes are consumed non-stop for a week. I get very keen