The Pickle Project

New Year's Recipes

2012-01-27T21:00:00.000-08:00

In a previous post, Barb Wieser shared the preparations for a New Year's Eve dinner in Crimea. Her friend Lenura is a marvelous cook, who is so instinctive that she usually works without recipes. But Barb took careful notes on the feast's preparation, so we're happy to share the delicious recipes with our readers. Thanks again, Barb and Lenura, for all your efforts!

New Year’s Dinner Menu

Stuffed Fish

Dolmades (stuffed peppers)

Oven baked beef the “French way”

Olivie Salad

Shuba Salad

Pomegranate Bracelet Salad

Side plates: Sliced bread with butter and red caviar; blackolives; orange and kiwi slices

Recipes

Stuffed Fish:

1. Gut a large fish and peel off the skin, leaving itintact. Cut off head and save.

2. Chop up the fish meat and add a few chunks of beef andsalo. Run through a grinder along with two heads of garlic cloves.

3. Mix the ground meat and garlic with 2 eggs, mayonnaise, flour,salt and pepper.

4. Stuff mixture into the fish skin and sew up. Arrange fishon a cooking platter with head.

5. Bake for about one hour at medium heat. Slice and serve.

Dolmades (stuffed peppers):

1. Grindup 1 kg. of meat (mutton or beef) to make farsh (ground meat). Mix with ½ kg.chopped onions and 1 cup rice, rinsed.

2. Whentomatoes are in season, chop up tomatoes and add to mixture.

3. Stuffmixture into peppers which have been deseeded and tops cut off. We used peppersLenura had frozen from earlier in the year. Worked well except our fingersfroze stuffing the peppers.

4. Packtightly upright in a large soup pot. Cover with salted water and cook untildone. Serve with sour cream.

Oven baked beef the “French way”

1. Thinlyslice beef, salt and put in covered bowl in refrigerator for several hours.

2. Slice4 large onions and layer on large baking pan.

3. Layermeat on top on the onions. Sprinkle with a package of spices for meat (not surewhat they were, but you could use anything that works for beef).

4. Peeland thinly slice two potatoes and layer on top of the meat.

5. Layer400 g. mushrooms on top—use very small mushrooms so they can be left whole, orslice if needed.

6. Adda layer of cheese and bake until done.

Olivie Salad

Chop finely cooked carrots and potatoes. Mix with choppedhard boiled eggs, some kind of meat—usually ham or sausage, but we usedchicken--, chopped pickles, a can of peas, and mayonnaise and salt and pepper.

Shuba Salad: (also called Fish under a Fur coat)

1. Boil2 beets, 2 potatoes, 1 carrot; cool and peel.

2. Gutand chop up one salted raw fish (herring)

3. Layerto make salad—Grated potatoes, mayonnaise, fish, mayonnaise, grated carrots,mayonnaise, grated beets, and top with layer of mayonnaise. Decorate withmustard.

Pomegranate Bracelet Salad:

1. Finelychop up 2 onions and ½ kg. mushrooms. Saute in butter.

2. Boil2 skinless chicken breasts and cool and shred meat.

3. Grateand peel 4-6 beets. Mix with 6 minced garlic cloves, a handful of finelychopped black prunes, mayonnaise.

4. Tomake the salad, put an overturned glass into the center of a large plate tocreate the ring. Layer shredded chicken, mushrooms and onion mixture,mayonnaise, the beet mixture.

5. Coverthe ring with 2 cups finely chopped walnuts and pomegranate seeds (one wholepomegranate).

The Yogurt Vessels of Yore

2012-01-20T04:49:00.000-08:00

I have been waiting to see the Antiquities from Ukraine: Golden Treasures and Lost Civilizations exhibit at the Museum of Russian Art in Minneapolis since it arrived in October. The exhibit features loaned objects that are a part of the larger, privately owned collection known as PLATAR, assembled by a pair of Ukrainian industrialists, Serhiy Platonov and Serhiy Taruta. I only thought to snap one photo with my phone but wanted to share a few thoughts about the exhibit nonetheless.

The exhibit features objects from ancient cultures that lived in and around the Black Sea region. These include the Tripilians, the Scythians, the Cimmerians and, finally, Kyivan Rus.

The pieces presented in the exhibit are truly interesting and provide an account of the region over time, as well as its importance as a center of trade and hub in the ancient Silk Road. In addition to being beautiful, many of the artifacts also offer glimpses into the food practices of these early cultures, which are among the oldest known civilizations.

The Trypilian artifacts, dating back 5 to 7 thousand years, were characterized by pottery with swirling designs and interesting forms, including giant bulbous pots, mysterious binocular-shaped vessels and even toys. According to our guide, the Tripilians were a matriarchal culture, where women served as the central figures in society. They were an agrarian people that kept livestock and grew crops including lentils and peas.

There was an interesting scale model of an earthen Tripilian home on stubby stilts. This, we were told, was an architectural form much like the much more recent barn homes of central Europe, where the animals live below and their heat rises to warm the people in the story above.

One of my favorite pieces was the bovine-shaped vessel above. Although it looks more ornamental than practical to me, the plaque suggested, it was used by the ancient Trypilians for storing milk, yogurts and fresh cheeses.

Moving onto the Bronze Age, the exhibit features glimmering tokens of war and prestige. In addition to some weaponry and lavish jewelry, from the nomadic Scythians, there were golden bowls and vessels. There was a stunning drinking horn shaped like a ram. I would totally quaff from it, if given the opportunity. As I perused the Kyivan Rus section, I noticed a dazzling set of golden calf earrings, eluding to the importance of livestock in these societies. Many of the artifacts here reflect the influence of Greek travelers in this part of the Black Sea region, something we have also found in contemporary foodways and local cultures of the Crimea, as well as the Dombass and Mariupol regions.

The exhibit visited museums in Omaha and Houston before coming to Minneapolis, the last stop in its US tour. The exhibit is a bit controversial because the origins of the artifacts are largely unknown. The objects were obtained “on the open market” and do raise questions about acquisitions. Ukraine's archaeological heritage has often fallen victim to looters and remains a source of concern for many n the archaeological community.

Antiquities from Ukraine: Golden Treasures and Lost Civilizations will be at the Museum of Russian Art in Minneapolis until February 14, 2012. Be sure to check out the Museum's website to view a slideshow of selected artifacts.

A New Year's Feast from Crimea

2012-01-08T09:28:00.000-08:00

Barb Wieser, our favorite Crimean correspondent, shares a great New Year's meal that exemplifies the diversity of foodways in Ukraine where home cooks mix and mingle influences from around the world to create delicious meals. Thanks Barb and Lenura (above), a fabulous cook! Look for recipes and more photos in a following post.

Take the Christmastree, presents, lights and all the general hoopla of American Christmas andcombine them with the fireworks and partying of New Year’s and what do youhave? New Year’s Eve in Ukraine. For the seventy years of the Soviet Union, religiousholidays were banned. Not to be deterred from celebrating, the Soviet peopletook those Christmas traditions and morphed them into one big celebration on NewYear’s Eve. In present day Ukraine, Christmas is once again celebrated (EasternOrthodox Christmas is on January 7), but it is a fairly low keyaffair and focused around the church. New Year’s Eve continues to be the bigholiday of the season, and much of it is focused on food.

The food preparationfor the New Year’s Eve family dinner typically begins with a trip a week earlierto the local bazaar to stock up on all the products necessary for the NewYear’s cooking and celebrations. In my Crimean Tatar family, this consisted of largebags of onions, carrots, potatoes, beets; the fruits of the season--oranges,apples, pomegranates, kiwis, mandarins; various candies; sausages and cheeses;sacks of walnuts; champagne, vodka, sodas and fruit juices, and of course, avery large quantity of mayonnaise. Closer to the 31st the meats werepurchased—salted herring, a large whole freshwater fish commonly found aroundhere, chicken, and beef to be baked whole and also ground into farsh. Wechecked to make sure the staples were stocked up—flour, sugar, eggs, rice, saltand pepper—and the preparations were ready to get underway.

All of December, themother of the Crimean Tatar family I live with, Lenura, mused about what tomake for New Year’s, soliciting opinions from the family. She slowly puttogether a menu, making adjustments even on the last day (like deciding whatkind of cake to make). Unlike our American Thanksgiving, there are not many“traditional” New Year’s foods in Ukraine, and menus seem to vary with thewhims of who is doing the cooking and different cultural traditions, though allthe menus lean heavily to some kind of meat and mayonnaise based salads. But thereare two traditional salads that are found on all New Year’s menus acrossUkraine and Russia—Olivie Salad and Shuba or “Fish under a Fur Coat.”

Olivie Salad is amixture of finely chopped carrots, hardboiled eggs, pickles, sausage (or ham orchicken), combined with canned peas and lots of mayonnaise. According tointernet sources (and affirmed by the people I asked), Olivie Salad was namedafter a French chef who first created it in a restaurant in Moscow in the1860’s. Shuba is a layer of chopped herring, covered by the “fur coat”--layersof grated potatoes, carrots, and beets, interspersed with layers of mayonnaise.

We also prepared a saladcalled Pomegranate Bracelet which involved a ring salad (created by placing an overturnedglass in the middle of a plate) and consisted of a layer of chicken and mushroomscovered with shredded beets mixed with, you guessed it, mayonnaise, and toppedwith walnuts and pomegranate seeds.

Every dish we cooked includedsome quantity of mayonnaise. Ukrainians consume large amounts of mayonnaise onevery possible food, even pizza! Ihave asked several friends why mayonnaise is so popular and this is the typicalanswer: “During the Soviet period it was impossible to purchase mayonnaise and itonly became available near the end of the Soviet era. Once mayonnaise startedappearing in stores, it was rapidly snatched up and became an ingredient inmany dishes, especially salads.” However, the Crimean Tatars (the Muslim ethnicpeople in Ukraine that I live and work with) have their own distinct ethnicfoods and rarely use mayonnaise and talk with disdain about the Ukrainian foodand “all that mayonnaise.” However, we mostly we did not make Crimean Tatardishes for New Year’s Eve, but theone we dish we did make—peppers stuffed with rice and ground meat calledDolmades—sure enough, did not have any mayonnaise. But this was the New Year’s Evedinner, after all, and somehow it had to include large quantities ofmayonnaise—so much so that we twice ran out and had to send one of the kids tothe neighborhood store for more.

Besides all thosemayonnaise salads, the dinner menu also included a stuffed fish, ameat/potatoes/mushroom/cheese dish (which Lenura called beef baked “the FrenchWay”), the meat and rice stuffed peppers, and a delicious lemon cake with Lenuraseemed to just create out of whatever she had on hand.

Though everything wasvery tasty (especially when washed down with the continual New Year’s toasts), Ithought the real masterpiece of the dinner was the stuffed fish. I had beenserved it once before at a New Year’s dinner at their house, but it definitelyis not a traditional New Year’s dish at anyone else’s house. I asked Lenura ifshe had learned it from her mother, but she said, “No, it is just something Imade up.” Basically the dish consists of first gutting a fish and peeling offits skin intact. The fish meat is then run through a grinder along with junksof beef and salo (the Ukrainian national food of cured slabs of pork fat) and alot of garlic. The ground meat is then mixed with eggs, a little flour, andyes, a little mayonnaise, and stuffed back into the fish, and baked. Served ona bed of lettuce with a hardboiled egg “flower hat”, it was an elegant centerpieceof our Ukrainian/Crimean Tatar New Year’s Dinner. С НовымГодом!

Will 2012 Be the Year of the Pickle? Only with Your Help!

2011-12-29T11:05:00.000-08:00

It's official, James Oseland of Saveur Magazine has named pickles as one of his top food trends for 2012. We're happy to be ahead of the curve as 2011 was a pretty amazing year for the Pickle Project and we hope 2012 will be more of the same.

A year ago, we were deep into our Kickstarter fundraising efforts. We still can't say enough about the support we received. From across the world--including Sweden, Japan, Ukraine, Canada and the United States--dozens of you pitched in to help make our effort to document and share Ukrainian food traditions a reality. We truly felt buoyed by all of your good wishes when we returned to Ukraine.

Our two Pickle Project trips this year were each very different, but both were distinguished by the warmth and hospitality of Ukrainian friends and colleagues. Our three weeks in high summer were full of berries, of home-cooked meals, of walks in hills of Crimea and the Carpathians, and of long conversation-filled train rides for the two of us. This fall, returning with Caleb Zigas and Rueben Nilsson, our four Pickle Project Conversations cemented our friendships with great organizational partners the Bulgakov Museum, Eko Art, PIC NGO and the Centre for Cultural Management. We ate, we drank, we found ourselves in conversations that ranged from what we eat for dinner to how to support small farmers. Thanks to the Trust for Mutual Understanding and Shelburne Farms for making this possible.

Back in the US, I had the chance to share the work of the Pickle Project in five different presentations at locations ranging from a Catskills community roundtable to an American Association of Museums presentation in Texas. Lively questions always ensued.

But what will 2012 hold? And how can you help?
We continue to be inspired and driven by the interests, questions and comments from our Kickstarter backers, our readers and the people we engage through the Pickle Project, in Ukraine, the US and elsewhere.

We're working on a number of different ideas--ranging from promoting further exchange, to exhibitions, to projects with young people. We'd love to find ways to bring the Pickle Project conversations to different countries, to learn and share perspectives.

We've got a long list of blog posts from our 2011 visits to keep you up on--everything from Greek food in eastern Ukraine and manti making in Crimea to making currant wine in L'viv-- and the debut of some video interviews. Stay tuned.

But about you--if you're in Ukraine, we'd love your help. We've greatly appreciated our guest bloggers and hope that more of you will consider joining in and sharing family stories, traditions, or what you've learned about village and urban foodways. In particular, Peace Corps volunteers, we'd love to hear from you.

And if you have ideas about what's next for us--let us know. Thanks to all of you for making 2011 an incredible year for the Pickle Project!

Lviving On A Jet Plane

2011-12-21T09:23:00.000-08:00

A final guest post from Caleb Zigas, traveling companion for our October Conversations.

So after four conversations, three train rides, at least 2pounds of salo consumed and countless liters of vodka (the best was thehomemade kind) what are the takeaways?

In writing about travel, and writing about it in the firstperson no less, and in a format like a blog even more, I think it’s importantto recognize that one most likely learns far more about one’s self throughtravel than one possibly can about one place. Place is too nebulous. Too large.Too all-consuming. I didn’t eat enough, or from everywhere. I didn’t eat inanyone’s home, share a meal with a person who cooked it, or stumble into anexpected delight enough times to give a sense of place. But I did eat wonderfulfood, much of it home-cooked, and I did listen and talk quite a bit about notonly the food but also the act of cooking and consuming it.

When I left the States I felt, as I often feel, conflictedabout the work that I do. Without boring you too much with insights into my ownpersonal struggles, it’s enough to know that I do what I do because I believethe world can be a better place. I often think that one of the main factors inpreventing such betterment is the dominance of capitalism, yet what I do simplyaspires to make poor people better capitalists. But what of this thought in apost-Communist society?

The irony, or really it’s not irony but the realization, isthat small business can be powerful. In the many conversations we had, meals weshared and foods we tried, the idea of small business was rarely on theforefront of anyone’s minds. The questions I ended my discussion with (Whatfoods do you think you could sell, for instance) often led to blank stares andboring conversation. The explanations provided were often that government regulation,corruption and taxation were too daunting of tasks for small business to haveany traction in this place. And so small business begins to feel powerful.

I imagine a group of piroshky selling women banding togetherwith a solid brand and making a living for themselves. Or the subsistencefarmers creating value-added products with regional variations in order tomaintain the life style that their sons and daughters are abandoning. Whiletheir sons and daughters work in cities and earn money in order to purchase thefoods they miss from the village. And while our conversations seemed to statethat this was not, yet, a reality, some part of me feels that we simply didn’tfind the right places to have that conversation.

If there was no belief in that kind of opportunity therewould be no Pizzata Hata and no Kompot. There would be no informal vending, nofunnel-cake hot dogs, no coffee shops and no tandoori-like fired breads. By the endof this trip I’ve come to believe, again, in the power of small business, or atleast the ideal of it, the notion, to provide some kind of opportunity foreconomic freedom. It’s a concept that is utterly complicated by the ripplingimpact of collectivism plus oligarchy, but, perhaps for the first time in along time, it often feels like a solution.

Given the pace of capitalism that we experienced, I’m notsure that Ukrainian capitalism currently looks any different than the maliciousbrand of American capitalism, rife with income inequality and lack of opportunity,that we are so quick to export. But I’m also not sure that has to be the case.

In our last conversation in Lviv, a young woman was asked ifshe still cooked, and she answered (like nearly everyone else we asked in thetime I was there) that she did. But, she was quick to point out, instead ofspending Sunday making vareniki all day long, she cooked something quick anddelicious. If she were to spend an entire day, she said, she’d have friendsover and they would make something they wanted… sushi.

In Lviv we ate one meal at the Salo Museum. A high-conceptrestaurant bar that chooses not to examine the history of this national dishbut instead to focus on its future, draping models with small bits of it inartsy-soft-porn poses and offering a menu of salo based concoctions. One ofwhich we tried—salo sushi. Like so many other things, it was imperfect, butemblematic. There is no such thing as tradition. No such taste as authentic.There is only what we are, and that is constantly changing. So salo sushi is noless Ukrainian than borscht, no matter how much we miss the borscht ourgrandmother’s made.

What can be more powerful than the memory of that borscht,or the taste of any other number of foods, is the power to choose the foodsthat we make and eat. Ukraine, like so many of us, is in a struggle to definethat future for themselves, and it’s one you can see, hear and taste on thestreets and in the markets every day. I will remember, for a long time, thetaste of that borscht and the taste of that sushi, and I will wonder, for a longtime, what it will taste like the next time I go.

Photos by Rueben Nilsson, our fellow traveler. From top: borscht; cheese seller at Bessarabka market, Kyiv; salo sushi (no kidding); and Sarah, Linda and Caleb in L'viv.

Dach(a)ed Hopes; A Non-Religious Jewish Story About Odessa

2011-12-15T13:53:00.000-08:00

And another great guest post from Caleb Zigas.

When I was nine years old and in line at Safeway, the cashier wished my mother a very earnest Merry Christmas. We’re Jewish, Ireplied probably annoyingly, we don’t celebrate Christmas. My mom, clearly notnine and far better mannered than I, wished her the same and whisked me away. Allof this to say that I’ve rarely been scared to say who I am.

When I told people I was going to Ukraine, I felt like atl east one out of five told me they had roots there. And if the literature of Jewish America (or at least of my DC Jewish same-age-but-went-to-private-school-but-is-really-talented-(begrudgingly) cohort Mr. Safran Foer) can tell us anything it is that this beautiful port city knows its Judaism. And, with that, the Jewish part of this story ends. Because for whatever confounding reason (and I could write about 1,200 more unnecessary words un-confounding them) I did not articulate my Judaism in this fine city. And I found that to be just fine.

Instead, I felt lucky to be connected to a part of Ukraine that, until then, had seemed hidden. Through circuitous social connections and the power of Facebook, we were introduced to the inner-workings of the Kompot empire in Odessa, a network of 6 restaurants all with aspirations to be a new kind of Ukrainian place. Sitting outside at Kompot’s second location on a pedestrian-friendly street in the sun, with the marketing manager, one couldn’t help but think that they were well on the way.

For much of the time that I spent in the Ukraine I couldn’t help but think about one of La Cocina’s program participants, Anda Piroshki.Anna Tvelova, the owner, moved to the States about 10 years ago, waited tables and finally decided to pursue her dream of business ownership with a baked-piroshki model. Her food is delicious, original and beautifully branded,and as I watched Ukraine essentially speed into capitalism as I simply stood there, I couldn’t help but think that there was a dearth of well-branded national fast-casual foods and that someone just needed to take it there.

Perfectly appointed,detail-oriented and with middle-class food, the Kompot experience was unlike most ofthe basement dining that we did in so many ways. But, perhaps even more interestingly, the partner restaurant Dacha, took the concept of Ukrainian food and elevated it beyond my expectation in a way that looked both inward and outwards.

Located in a former sanitarium a ten minute taxi ride from downtown Odessa, Dacha simulates the experience of the gentried middle class of this part of the world's history--pre-Soviet Union. It may not be the dacha that your family has, but it’s the one you and I have read about in Russian novels with balls and carriages. But updated and, maybe even sometimes, kind of ironic.

We were greeted with a selection of six vodkas, several the house brand, and one of which (not from the house) was called Jewish Vodka (nocomment). From there, we sampled six kinds of homemade pickles and perused amenu full of Ukrainian food offerings that sounded simply delicious. The place was beautiful, warm and the staff was knowledgeable and passionate. Most interestingly, though the place can seat 400 in the summer, they seem to have no problem bringing people to them.

Which means that someone in Odessa is eating. In our conversation here we heard from a smattering of Odessans, all of which came from very different places. What was amazing about a place like Dacha was thefamiliarity of the concept despite the difference in the food. Nowhere in the States will you find pickled watermelon, fish-stuffed fish (basically gefilte fish)and bread soda on a menu, but you wouldn’t have felt out of place in the dining room with white wooden chairs and a wood-burning oven.

Our conversation was largely dominated by currents of frustration at industrialized agricultural practice, skepticism of supermarkets and the shocking straw poll that saw everyone claiming to not only know to make but also actively making salo in their homes. Meanwhile, Dacha diners can buy“Odessan” food, take it home in a branded Dacha bag and buy branded Dacha preserves whenever they want. I can’t help but admit to liking that both are an option.

So when we arrived two hours early to the train station the next day after dining in the dark the night before (though a generator was procured midway through the meal) in yet another basement, I wasn’t even kind of disappointed to be eating in Kompot yet again. But I’m not sure that I know what that means for Ukrainian food.

A L’viv Conversation, Food and Thought

2011-12-10T16:12:00.000-08:00

Like each of the cities we visited on our conversational tour of Ukraine, L’viv is its own place. The capital of historic Galicia, L’viv is regarded by many as the heart of Ukrainian culture, language and traditions. Crumbling and complex, the city is known for romance, poetry and intellectual enterprise.

In recent years, L’viv has also sought to distinguish itself as a gastro-destination. Long renowned for its caffeine haunts, there is now a cohort of small brewers, chocolate shops and gelato stands, cropping up around town, not to mention the batch of bizarre themed restos.

Our wonderful partner, the Centre for Cultural Management, an organisation that works to promote the cultural sector in L’viv and across Ukraine, hosted the event at the Ye Bookstore. And, so, we chatted, amongst the books, while browsing customers paused to listen or join in the dialogue.

Unsurprisingly, our discussions reflected L’viv’s unique character, charting a thoughtful progression from traditions to the future. We launched with stories about first tastes and childhood temptations. One participant remembered that, under the Soviet Regime of her youth, there were few luxury foods to be had. However there were the rare delights, including chewing gum and sodas (Pepsi NOT Coke) and, for Christmas, mandarin oranges. In my circle, we talked a great deal about Ukrainian food customs and dishes. What makes a meal Ukrainian, one asked. But, Galician food has been so influenced by Polish traditions, another commented. Is it still Ukrainian? What if you ate the same meal in Canada? (On a plane, on a train? In a box, with a fox?) We explored gender roles relative to food, who cooks and who grows, then, now, and into the future. The group of participants in the L'viv discussion was more diverse in age than in the other cities on the Community Conversation tour. Thus, the conversations were infused with an array of perspectives, reflecting the generational and cultural influences of the participants.

As talk of food often does, the discussions turned to politics and governance, and, inevitably in Ukraine, corruption. Contemplative participants offered exchanged opinions on regulations, taxes and food safety. We talked about the influence of Ukraine’s current leadership and the future of rural Ukraine. We talked about lifestyles, health and who tomorrow’s farmers will be. The lively exchange went on for a while, in that smart, meandering and, sometimes, wistful L’viv of way. And, then, we retired for beer and more of the same.

Watch a video and read peculiar news coverage about the L'viv event here.

From Armchair to Airplane: A Food Scientist Reflects on a Trip to Ukraine

2011-12-07T18:15:00.000-08:00

For our recent series of Pickle Project Community Conversations across Ukraine, we were fortunate to be joined by Caleb Zigas of La Cocina and Rueben Nilsson of the Caves of Faribault. Here, Rueben shares his observations and photos.

I think it’s fair to say that I leapt at the chance to join the Pickle Project. I joined the group at the eleventh hour, about four weeks before the trip. I remember getting off of the phone with Linda and immediately starting to wonder if I had over-sold myself. I thought that there must be several candidates that they were choosing from, and I needed to justify why they should pick me to go with them. At one point in the conversation, I’m pretty sure I told her that I never get into bar fights. Because, obviously, she wouldn’t want to travel through Ukraine with someone prone to fisticuffs.

I’ve lived most of my life in Minnesota, and I’d never traveled beyond the confines of North America, but I’ve long been an armchair world traveler. I’m a food scientist by training, and I work at an artisan cheese plant here in Minnesota. I spend a lot of time thinking about issues of food production, and I spend a lot of my free time thinking and talking about cheese as well. The idea of traveling to another country to talk about food for 10 days sounded too good to be true.

Before the trip, I probably had an above-average (for an American) knowledge of Ukraine. I’d read in The Economist about the Orange Revolution and the poisoning of Yushchenko. I knew a bit about the post-WWII, Cold War and post-Cold War history of the region. I didn’t really know what life was currently like in Ukraine, but I was excited to find out.

Unsurprisingly, the scattered facts I had accumulated didn’t really give me a great insight into the psyche of Ukrainians. Nor, I suppose, did my 10 day whirlwind tour either. However, the conversations I had about food with Ukrainians were very similar to conversations that I’ve had with Minnesotans at local food events I’ve attended. Most of the people we met at our conversations were foodies and while their perspectives were different, they held opinions firmly as any foodie who I’ve ever handed a piece of blue cheese here in Minnesota.

I saw great enthusiasm for local and slow food in Ukraine. We met a dairyman in Kiev who, absent any government regulation, was forging a business dedicated to providing safe, local raw milk to consumers. He was an expert on European food safety standards and quality systems. In Odessa, we met with restaurateurs who were pioneering the Slow Food movement in Ukraine. At the end of my trip, I met an entrepreneur setting out to be a cheesemaker. His goal was to create a local cheese for Ukraine that would be his legacy and something to be enjoyed by future generations of Ukrainians.

Foodies are an enthusiastic, opinionated and sometimes cantankerous bunch, and my experience on this trip only reinforced my view. The people I met are trying hard to preserve and strengthen their connection to food production.

Because Why Shouldn’t Uncooked, Lightly Cured Bacon Be Considered Delicious?

2011-11-28T22:00:00.000-08:00

Another guest post by Caleb Zigas.

As far as museum experiences go, the Bulgakov Museum on atorn-up street in Kyiv surpasses nearly every expectation for a memorial to anauthor, even in a country with an impressively high literacy rate. The Museumis as much memory as emotion, and it was here that we had our firstconversation.

At that point, my culinary experience of the entirety ofUkraine, let alone Kyiv, consisted of the following; Crimean Tatar food in abasement restaurant, that delicious funnel-cake-wrapped hot dog on the street,multiple markets with their varieties of pickles, a new-wave Ukrainianrestaurant with hemp beer and incredible furnishings, several coffee shops, anorganic demo marketplace with roasted pig, amazing soup and horseradish vodkain a tent under the rain with new friends and Puzata Hata, a Ukraniancafeteria-style chain with an open kitchen and servers in national garb. On thetable at the Bulgakov we began with salo and vodka.

One of the reasons that not only have I always loved foodbut also working in food lies in the stock I put in hard work and incraftsmanship—in pride. I believe that this happens at tables, benches andbackyards across the world, even when there is scarcity. But Ukraine was homenot only to significant amounts of death in the 20^th Centurybut also home to one of the worst famines of the same period. And so scarcity perhaps takeson a different meaning.

Our conversation began here, with scarcity, althoughsomewhat unintentionally. I began these conversations in Kyiv with an interestin understanding who made what, why they made it and whether or not there was amarket for it. My assumption about the changes that urbanization would bringrevolved around the mass industrialization of foods and, therefore, notnecessarily the disappearance of those foods but rather their replacement withmore commercial versions of the same. In my own life, especially in America, myantidote to industrial-scale food production lies in taste. In deliciousness.Admittedly, it is thin ice to stand on, or, rather, a fairly subjective stancefrom which to stand, but something about me believes it, and so I stand.

And so it was fascinating to hear from Roman, a Ukrainianorganic dairy farmer, that the National table relies on volume, or, in hiswords, calories. In his telling, at a crucial point in our conversation, thevery value of the meal one offers not only resides in tastiness but also mostlyin the quantity of food offered to guests. Now, I believe as much as anyone innever running out of food, but given the history of place and the sincerity ofstatement there is weight to thinking about this.

Could it be that Americans, or, for that matter, culturesunaware of the pangs of recent hunger, prioritized taste in an appropriate way?I thought about meals I’d eaten in El Alto, Bolivia, an incredibly poor placewith a similar subsistence economy, and the pride a family would take in thetaste of its offerings and found such a simple volume equation to beunsatisfactory. But the rest of the Ukrainians at the table agreed; taste, theysaid, was overrated.

But then why go to Puzata Hata? Because it felt like home?Because it was cheap? Why go anywhere for that matter? Why differentiate? Theissue of taste runs central to food. Yes, we all eat to live, and the majorityof us (despite ridiculousness like Man Against Food on the Food Network) do notlive to eat. We live because we eat—in so many ways. And so I am given towondering about the perception of taste. Not the way one piroshky feelscompared to another but, rather, what the word itself means and what it gainsand loses in translation. And so at the first of these conversations I findmyself questioning if I even know how to explain my very fundamentalrelationship with eating in a way that is true to translation. In a way thatwill convey my appreciation for taste. For all kinds of taste.

And to do that while eating salo gives one quite acontemplative moment.

Images, from top:
Salo, at the Pickle Project Conversation at the Bulgakov Museum
Bulgakov Museum interior, courtesy of the Bulgakov Museum
Puzata Hata food line, photo by Caleb Zigas
Kyiv Pickle Project participants
Caleb talks taste
Organic milk and honey, homemade pickles, brought to share at the conversation in Kyiv.

Odessa is Odessa!

2011-11-25T09:00:00.000-08:00

“Odessa is Odessa” “Odessa is different.” Those are the kinds of things I’ve heard from both otherUkranians and Odessans themselves. The first time I visited Odessa, it was on April 1; the day that entire city comes out toplay, celebrating April Fools Day with funny hats, satirical floats and ageneral good time. So I knew itwas different.

And sure enough, just like our Kyiv and Donetskconversations were different from each other, this one was also different.Because of Odessa’s history and its status as a major port, this city is hometo dozens, if not hundreds, of different ethnicities and nationalities. (For a great look at Odessa’scolorful history, read Odessa: Genius and Death in a City of Dreams by Charles King).

Hanna Shelest, head of the NGO PIC, our Odessan partner, hada particular interest in working with us to engage the different culturalgroups in the city and reached out to Yaroslava Reznik, Head of the Department of National Minorities of Odessa Region State Administration. And so our conversation here washeld at the Bulgarian Cultural Center, one of several similar centers in the city.We reached the ornate meeting room by walking up past portraits of somber Bulgarianshung along the stairway, but ourconversation proved anything but somber.

We were joined by representatives from many communities herein Odessa: Ukrainians, Bulgarians,Byelorussians, Moldovans, Germans, Indians, Armenians, and more. It proved a great place tocollect stories about the food that made memories for so many different people.

A German woman remembered her grandmother’s streuselcake, while an Indian recalled hisconfusing arrival in Odessa as a teenager, when it was very hard to be avegetarian in the city. But when a girlfriend made him stuffed peppers, he knewhe could make a life here—and that he should marry her! One of the loveliestmemories was shared by Yaroslava Reznik.When she was a child, her family lived just outside of town, in a small private house. She told of a day the family ate varenyky. Not an unusual day, but just a day in the summer, when the family ate outside, under the pear tree, and to this day, she still remembers the look of the bowl, dappled by the leaves of the tree, sparkling over her mother's handmade varenyky, the beautiful sense of the day and the food. Her description was so lovely I said, "you must be a poet," and with a shy smile Yaroslava said, "My parents were poets."

We talked a bit about the foods that are Odessan, which arethe same foods that many Jewish Americans associate with their own familytraditions—a fish like gefilte fish; chopped liver, and more. And the new foods also came into play, particularly as groupsintermarried, and a new bride learned to make her husband’s favorite dish,while sharing her own traditions.

To me, one of the exchanges that symbolized the Pickle Project's efforts todo something different, to share our thoughts, ideas, beliefs and hopes bytalking about food, came here in Odessa. An ethnographer came with his students. As he joined my small group, he listened for a bit, and then spoke up to say that we weredoing this all wrong, that it was not scientific! As he explained exactly why it wasn’t scientific, I lookedat the faces around me, whopreviously had been actively listening, laughing and sharing familystories—multiple generations, multiple ethnicities, multiple beliefs. And their looks were polite, but with a bit of impatience and annoyance.

Ukraine is still a place where, in many situations,“experts” are revered. And it wassurprising—and a bit thrilling-- to watch these participants realize that they,not the ethnographer, were the “experts.” That their stories, their perspectives, their beliefs, werethe strength of the conversation. No matter where you live, or where your family originated, the ability to share your experiences through meaningful conversations with a larger circle is one small way in which civil societies are built.

So from the light coming through the pear trees to thestuffed peppers made by a girl in love, Odessa’s conversation will always remind me of the powerful connectionsfood can make, no matter where we're from.

Chatting and Chewing in Kyiv

2011-11-19T10:41:00.000-08:00

As Caleb mentioned in the previous post, the first in this autumn’s series of Pickle Project Community Conversations took place at the Bulgakov Museum. The museum is perched on the renowned Andriyivsky Uzviv, a steep, curvy little street that winds down a Kyivan hill. The museum observes the life and works of the beloved Ukrainian writer Mikhail Bulgakov, most famous for his novel The Master and Margarita, the subversive commentary on the oppression of the Soviet Regime.

The building itself was Bulgakov’s home for a time and the Museum uses the house’s rooms to imaginatively braid together the themes from Bulgakov’s own life with that of the Turbin family, featured in his novel The White Guard, set against the chaos of the Russian Civil War. The Bulgakov Museum is known for inventive programming that often includes food traditions, drawing on Bulgakov’s life and works. For me, the Bulgakov Museum has a warm, familiar and almost magical quality. Thus, it made a wonderful and fitting setting for the event.

The evening began with cheerful mingling and refreshments. Between refreshing sips of icy vodka, a personal favorite, and nibbles of black bread and salo, participants chatted and jotted down responses to questions posted on the walls with thick markers. These included “What is your favorite meal? and “What makes food natural?” The crowd was a lively mix that included diplomats and dairy farmers, rural development specialists, municipal managers, grandmas, college students and teenagers.

A sequence of deeper discussions ensued, sparked by mini-presentations around the food-centric themes of personal memory, entrepreneurship, science and sustainability. We told stories about our grandparents and grandchildren. We laughed about why we hate some foods and love others. We talked about what it means to make food for your children and if a person can actually “taste the love.” We explored the element of trust in our food system and what our national dishes really are. There was technical tête-à-tête, about calves’ intestines and compliance requirements among the dairy professionals in the room, and the salt-to-water ratio for good pickles between experimental American picklers (ahem..) and seasoned Ukrainian ones.

To accompany these exchanges, there were second and third courses to our feast. We enjoyed kasha with sautéed onions, golden cabbage and squashes with caramelized pork. There were home-made pickles and marinated mushrooms! Oh my! Then, we had coffee, tea and sweets.

The evening concluded with the exchanging of home canned goods, raw dairy products, hugs and kisses. Set in the Bulgakov Museum’s comfortable space, the event and dialogue offered many levels of engagement and was enriched by the openness and energy of the participants. And, we headed out into the dark Kyivan night, a bit brighter by the connections we'd made.

The Bulgakov Museum maintains an interesting blog and Linda has written more about the Bulgakov Museum at the Uncataloged Museum.

Just Pickled to Be Here

2011-11-15T06:38:00.001-08:00

On our recent conversations trip in Ukraine, we were joined by Caleb Zigas and Rueben Nilsson. Both have been good enough to share their reflections on that trip, those conversations, and that food. Here, Caleb shares his thoughts on those first days in Kyiv.

I know, probably like most Americans, very little aboutUkraine outside of Gogol Bordello (a great live show), Jonathan Safran Foer’sEverything Is Illuminated (with a Gogol Bordello connection no less) and, ofcourse, the most cursory of details about Chernobyl, famine, Stalin, World WarII, oligarchs, Shaktar Donetsk’s UEFA Cups Championship and that the lead onthe Google search of the country is marriage opportunities for Westerners. Thisis to say, in what is probably a longer way than necessary, that when I was askedto join the Pickle Project I really had no idea what I was getting myself into.

Linda and Sarah found me to be a part of this projectthrough a Ukrainian immigrant who had heard about the work that we do at La Cocina. I believe in La Cocina because I believe thateveryone deserves an opportunity to make a living doing something that theylove to do. Furthermore, and I can never quite articulate this well enough soyou’re either going to have to simply try to believe me or join me for dinnersome time, I believe that food, more than anything else, can be a tool withwhich to be the same as anyone in the world. That to sit down to a meal and toopen yourself to that which someone else offers is a rare moment of pure andtotal equality. So the idea behind the Pickle Project, conversations aboutculture and food, immediately appealed to me. As did, if I’m to be totallyhonest, the ability to go some place new, and to learn.

Conversation, in a controlled situation, is something of afunny thing. One (and by one I mean not simply the universal but also thepersonal) feels compelled to say perhaps grander things than one otherwisewould and, in that grandiosity, as a result perhaps obscures the grandertruths. And so the intentional conversations of the Pickle Project do not standalone as experience but are rather coupled with the people, the train rides andthe meals that were shared to give the picture that I now hold. As myopic, myriadand incorrect as that may be.

I boarded a plane from Paris to Kiev directly behind twowomen with Celine bags, significant amounts of jewelry and really lovely blondhair. I got off the plane in Kyiv and realized, immediately, that a) Cyrillicis nothing like English and b) that I should probably have learned more aboutUkraine (don’t say the Ukraine, I wastold, so I know that at least) before I arrived. Like how to say please andthank you.

Kyiv conformed almost too neatly to my vision of post-SovietEurope with wide avenues, block-style apartments with unimpressive facades,large statues in picturesque squares and the contradiction of old women sellingsmall collections of varied sundry items on sidewalks with the Jaguars,Bentleys and designer clothes of the cosmopolitan set. So, I think it made sense that my firstculinary experience be a hot dog wrapped, essentially, in funnel cake andserved with no toppings in a plastic on street corner. Because this, at least,I did not understand, though it does provide further proof of Bourdain’s theoryof encased-meat universality. And it was delicious.

Immediately, and despite our world’s best efforts atstandardized globalization, one begins to know that one has arrived in adifferent place. Without spending too much time defining the notion ofdifference let us simply acknowledge the political (post-Soviet state, OrangeRevolution, Tymoschenko recently jailed), physical (aforementioned apartments,average heel height of 4 inches) and cultural (language, Bulgakov, soccer)discrepancies, and accept those as fact if not generalization. And go fromthere.

My Kyiv, and in fact my Ukraine, begins with thoseapartments, opens into a cosmopolitan downtown, curves to the open-air andestablished markets (more soon on this!), dips into modern art galleries thatfeel a little unexpected and neatly lives in places like the Bulgakov Museum,where we had our first conversation. I hope to get to the conversations soon,but wanted to begin with, well, the beginning, because every writer knows themiddles is the hardest and as I write this from a plane I already know the end.

The first market I visited in Kyiv looked, well, just like Iexpected a market to look like. Tiled blocks from which older women cut piecesof unrefrigerated primal cuts into domestic cuts, rows of vegetables all ofwhich looked great and the majority of which could certainly not have grown ina Ukraine as cold as the one I was experiencing, counters full of pickles wheresampling was not only allowed but also encouraged and a back corner full ofdried fruits and nuts from all over. Our second market, much the same, openedonto a larger marketplace for clothes and assorted household items as well ashot and prepared foods like the tandoori-style lavosh breads and grilled meats.But the real marketplace, the one that captures the imagination, happensinformally in the streets where an older generation hawks dried mushrooms,random herbs and berries, 3—5 vegetables and even live crawfish all of dubious originbut with the romanticism of the country come to the city. Not being able tohave the conversations, and unable to test the statements even if I could, Iwill take the romantic long-view and believe in provenance.

But meanwhile, a city is growing. In a place that is home toover 3 million people and a prominent (if very small) very upper class, demandappears to be shifting, if ever soslightly. There are fast casual concepts everywhere, an organic marketplace oneweekend, restaurants and an abundance, truly, of sushi. Again, provenance isperhaps questionable and, again, I did no investigation and prefer to believein the best intentions of humanity despite strong evidence otherwise in mostcases.

All of this, I think, to say that arriving in Ukraine meansboth the new and the old, the known and the unknown, the market and thesupermarket, the home and the restaurant and all of those other things thatmake our current global moment so, well, global. But what about that food?

Welcome to Potluck!

2011-11-04T13:17:00.000-07:00

On a dark stormy night in Donetsk, Caleb, Daria (the local organizer) and I hurried down a gusty street, clutching our umbrellas and leaping over ankle-deep streams at intersections, to arrive at our second Pickle Project conversation. We entered the school where the conversation was to be and were instantly swept up into the kind of buzz that only excited high school students make.

"Welcome to Potluck" said the chalkboard and we were thrilled to see that students had all brought food from home to share with us. EkoArt, our partner in Donetsk, works with young people, so they decided to have the conversation at a lyceum with high school and college students. We met in the French language classroom, where their enthusiastic teacher, Nikolai Routchka, had read our blog, had it projected on the board, and had even brought us a jar of preserved sea buckthorn after seeing my request for information and identification after spotting the berries in a market.

We began the evening with girls in traditional costume bearing the traditional Ukrainian welcome of bread and salt; a lovely reminder of an ancient, still important tradition. We asked students to share the details of each dish they had made--and impressively, each one did it in English, most with an accompanying PowerPoint presentation. Here's just a bit of what we ate (and thanks to Valya Sakhnenko and others for the descriptions!)

The salad is called "herring under fur coat" or short "fur coat" ("shuba" in Russian). It includes herring, pickled onions, potatoes, carrots, beets. Clean and cut the herring into small pieces. After that put chopped fresh or pickled onion. Vegetables cooked, rubbed on a grater and put by layers. You can add the grated apples and eggs. All layers except herring, covered with mayonnaise.

Daria's pickles, "This is my pepper in tomato sauce, which was pickled by my mother. In Ukraine we call this dish "lecho"."

Verguny--a fried dough.

Mlyntsi, (depending on where you're from, blini or crepes) filled with homemade cherry jam.

Homemade compote, above, and below, holubtsi, stuffed cabbage rolls.

Below, still warm plov, brought in right as we started by a student's father. Plov is traditionally made by men, and she had made it with her dad, who was Kazakh, and had, as I recall, learned to make it from Uzbek friends while living in Moscow. Ukraine is a diverse place, with many different cultures, and of course, it can be seen in the food.

And what would a potluck be without a great looking dessert. One student had some pretty amazing cake baking and decorating skills!

The food was great, but it's the conversations that I'll remember. Donetsk is off-the-beaten-path for most Americans, so we had lots of questions. What is "typical" American food? (which consistently, was one of the hardest questions to answer throughout the trip). Are Americans really overweight? Do we all eat fast food all the time? What kind of food does my family eat? Does my daughter know how to cook? Do I preserve fruits and vegetables? Is food in the US safe? Do we trust the government to regulate it? What makes food healthy? (in part, this conversation was generated by the university nutrition students who attended bringing healthier versions of some typical Ukrainian foods).

So much of what Ukrainians think of Americans comes from television and movies--particularly for young people. Caleb and I are from different generations, different regions, and different family backgrounds--but what we both shared with these enthusiastic young students were stories that are different from what movies and TV shows convey--that there's not one American food, nor one American story. And what did we learn? We learned about food, but even more about a curious, enthusiastic group of Ukraine's young people who care passionately about their country and the world.

We ended the evening with group photos and headed out, with bags full of sea buckthorn, cake, grapes from the teacher's arbor, bread, and more, to sustain us on our next train trip. The rain continued, but the warmth of the evening carried us home.

Market Report, Odessa, October 2011

2011-10-25T22:54:00.000-07:00

It's been an incredible time in Ukraine for the four of us Pickle Project conversers. We'll have more thoughts to come about our experiences, but for now, as I get ready to leave for home tomorrow, one last market report, from last week in sunny Odessa. Enjoy!

Above, quail eggs. Below, walnuts, apples, quince and milk, followed by a spirited negotiation. And then cheese, squash, pomegranate juice vendor, and tiny fish (sardines?)

Market Report, Organic Edition, October 15

2011-10-15T13:09:00.000-07:00

On a cold rainy Saturday, Caleb Zigas and I headed out for the Organic Market in Podil. A one day event, we were curious to check out what was on offer, and to learn a bit more about organic growing and eating in Ukraine. Much more to come, we hope, about organic growing in general here, as it's fascinating, but here's a bit of what we saw.

A pig roast, which was excellent--you can see Caleb, left, and our new acquaintance, Vladimir, enjoying it.

A display of flowers and peppers, melons and squash labeled organic, fair trade coffee.

A terrific soup, with the smoked pork, beans, potatoes, and tiny dumplings, cooked over an over fire.

And finally, behind the scenes at one of the tents, a generous feast of homemade horseradish vodka along with salo, dark bread, homemade butter and tvarog. Delicious!

Market Report October 14, 2011, Kyiv

2011-10-14T09:32:00.000-07:00

Back in Kyiv and time for another market report. It was a chilly, windy, sometimes rainy day, but friendly market vendors made for a great visit. Here's a bit of what Caleb Zigas and I saw today.

Outside, a small selection from a single village garden. Squash, dill, horseradish, and yellow berries whose name I haven't figured out yet. Readers, your guesses?

Caleb getting his first taste of Ukrainian pickled things, including pickled dates (smoky, sort of, but surprisingly good).

Nuts, with accompanying squirrel.

What I think of as winter market staples here: beets, potatoes, onions, carrots.

Melons, both a canteloupe sort of one, but elongated, and watermelons, the ones found outside on street corners in metal cages in the summer.

Two great looking market ladies, working outside.

And seafood--above, from one of the street side vendors, crayfish, live in a crate, and below, fish in their baby bathtubs. More market reports to come over the next two weeks.

Flights, Friends and Feasts

2011-10-09T19:00:00.000-07:00

While conducting some Pickle Project interviews in Odessa, over the summer, we have the good fortune of encountering a friendly family from Siberia. We met Mykoli, Margarita and their three children blithely sun bathing on blankets, sipping cold beer and nibbling on dried fishes. "It is the perfect snack combination for a hot day" they told us. In addition to Odessa’s easygoing vibe, Mykoli and Margarita also love the various fish and sandy seaside the city provides. We chatted with the family for a while, about train travel, snacks and sunshine.

This charming family had traveled for nearly two days to soak up the Black Sea sun and waves along Odessa’s city beaches. They began with a flight to Moscow and, then, made the 25-hour train ride to Odessa. Not only did we meet them on the beach but, later, saw them around Odessa in the coming days. We would excitedly wave each time we spotted each other on cobblestone streets or under an umbrella, dining al fresco.

I thought of them, again, in anticipation of our own travel to Ukraine, reunions with old friends and the interesting series of Community Conversations that the Pickle Project is co-convening over the next couple of weeks. The series will kick off on Sunday, October 16, 2011, 6-8pm (18:00-20:00) at the Bulgakov Museum, located at Andriyivsky uzviz 13 in Kyiv. Stop by for local snacks and an evening of sparkling dialogue about food, culture and sustainability in Ukraine's dynamic capital city. Stay tuned for location information for the Community Conversation events in Donetsk (18 October), Odessa (21 October) and L’viv (23 October).

Conversations about Food and Culture

2011-09-30T06:22:00.000-07:00

What does food matter? What can Americans learn from Ukrainian food traditions and methods? How are the ways that both Americans and Ukrainians think about food changing? What's your most memorable meal or the food that reminds you of home and family? Those questions, and many more, have formed the core of our work here at the Pickle Project. We're thrilled to return to Ukraine in mid-October for a series of four community conversations about food, culture, past, present and future. These conversations are made possible thanks to the support of the Trust for Mutual Understanding, Shelburne Farms (our US sponsor) and our great partners in Ukraine.

The conversations will be held in four different Ukrainian cities and we invite you to join us if you're in the neighborhood. More details to come, but mark your calendars and join us!

Sunday, October 16, 18:00 at the Bulgakov Museum, Kyiv
Tuesday, October 18, Donetsk
Friday, October 21, Odessa
Sunday, October 23, L'viv

We're also very pleased to have two other Americans join us for the conversations: Caleb Zigas and Rueben Nilsson. We've chosen Caleb and Rueben because they're both involved in food production in different ways, have inquiring minds, and much to both share and learn.

Caleb is Executive Director of La Cocina in San Francisco, an organization whose mission is to he mission of La Cocina is to cultivate low-income food entrepreneurs focusing primarily on women from communities of color and immigrant communities. Caleb’s work on the program curriculum and social entrepreneurship innovation has been celebrated by the Hitachi Foundation when they named him a Yoshiyama Young Entrepreneur and by Inc. Magazine’s recognition as one of 5 Community Organizers making a difference. He has been named one of San Francisco’s Tastemakers by 7×7 Magazine, though he might be as proud that before that he was named Best Waiter in San Francisco. Caleb has worked in kitchens since the age of 16, but he also is a graduate of the University of Michigan with a degree in English and Globalization and Culture.

Rueben grew up in rural Minnesota, in a town of 4,000 people. After some years working in other fields, he returned to school and received a degree in Food Science from the University of Minnesota, and has worked in cheesemaking, production and quality, for the last five years. He's now the Quality Systems Manager at Faribault Dairy, in Faribault, Minnesota, where cave-aged blue cheese is made. As part of his job, he works with state and federal food inspectors and independent food quality auditors. Both he and his wife come from a cultural heritage of European immigrant farmers and continuing their own family traditions, they make beer, bread, sauerkraut, cheese and can soups, fruits and vegetables.

We're looking forward to introducing Caleb and Rueben to big city markets, village gardens, homemade sour cream, samogon, early morning tea on the overnight train, salo, pickles, and most of all, to Ukraine's people and the stories they have to share.

Check back soon here or on our Facebook page for exact times and locations for the conversations.

Who are Your Human Links in the Food Chain?

2011-09-12T09:00:00.000-07:00

Recently I gave a talk to a local community group here in the Catskills about the Pickle Project. As I showed pictures of fresh meat on long counters in open air markets (above, an oxtail) and big buckets of fresh sour cream, one of the audience members asked about the safety of unrefrigerated meat and other foods in Ukraine.

That’s a question many of us ask as we see those open-air markets, but increasingly, it’s a question Americans ask about our own food supply and the answers, interestingly, may be found in a place like Ukraine. Since the publication of Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle, more than one hundred years ago, “food safety” has been defined as “bacteria control” in the United States. But today, the threats to our food supply exceed microbes and include broader issues now defined as food security: access to food, food and water safety, genetically modified crops, and, in an ever-growing global economy, understanding where in the world our food comes from and how it is grown, processed and shipped. Interestingly, cultures that never abandoned open-air markets --- and the food supply system that these markets support --- hold the answers to today’s crisis.

In the United States, we hope (and perhaps only hope) that government food regulations make the food we buy safe to eat. But recent contaminations and ongoing budget cuts make that protection harder to believe. Ukrainians, however, have no such illusions about the government’s ability to protect the food supply.

Ukraine’s recent history has left no citizen with few beliefs that any government can be trusted to feed its citizenry. In 19322-33, Stalin created what is known in Ukrainian as Holodomor, the Great Famine, sending troops to guard the harvests, and ensure that every morsel was exported out of Ukraine as a way to ensure the unruly republic's obedience. The real result was the starvation and death of millions of Ukrainians. During World War II battles fought in Ukraine devastated the agricultural landscape and starved hundreds of thousands more. The Soviet Union’s efforts at collectivizing farms meant that eventually, fewer and fewer products appeared in the market as production decreased for a host of complicated reasons. There is of course, also considerable concern about food contaminated from nuclear fallout from the incident at Chernobyl 25 years ago. As recently as last summer, I was advised never to buy mushrooms on the street in the capital, Kyiv, for fears that they had come from the contaminated region.

As Ukraine celebrates its 20 years of independence, food is now widely available, but rampant corruption has continued the climate of distrust generated in Soviet times. The average Ukrainian citizen does not believe that the government can or would protect the food supply in any way.

Because of all of this, Ukrainians have long since taken responsibility for the food that they feed their families. They’ve found two solutions.

First, grow it yourself. In villages and towns, every house has a garden. It’s not just for show. They are big gardens. The front yard of a house might be filled with potato plants and out back, stretch rows of garlic, onions, beets, tomatoes, cucumbers, and more. A clutch of fruit trees, cherry, apricot, apple, join the blackberry and blueberry bushes. Full-time village residents (a rapidly aging, declining, number) might also have a cow or two, a few chickens and geese, and maybe even a pig.

An increasing middle class in Ukrainian cities is finding the income to purchase a “dacha,” a vacation house in a village. But these dachas aren’t just for relaxation, they’re a place where after the end of a busy work week, city dwellers drive to, put on their old clothes, , and weed, water, pick and preserve. Full-time villagers and part-time residents both grow food for their extended families. Many young people still live at home, relying on mothers or grandmothers to produce home-cooked meals every day. Few young people cook at all (“We have other hobbies,” one said laughingly). But when your food comes from your own family garden, you know who produces your food.

Second, buy your food from someone with whom you have a personal, yet commercial, relationship with. You can’t just buy it from any vendor. At the main city market in Odessa there are dozens of women selling dairy products. But according to my friend Natalia, she only buys from “her” vendor, the woman with whom she has established a personal relationship. That way, she knows that Irina comes from a village two hours away, twice a week, with cheese made from cow and goat milk, and fresh sour cream. She knows the person who produces her food.

Although Americans want to have a personal relationship with their food, that sort of intimacy requires rethinking the ways we live.

Is it possible to replant the lawn with vegetable gardens and re-apportion family time away from soccer games and TV in order to tend those gardens? Is there a communal garden or CSA that could use help? Or is it more feasible to shop consistently from vendors and take the time to get to know them? It’s definitely more work. Planting, tending and harvesting a garden is a hard thing to do after a day in the office although Ukrainian women seem to balance work, family and home in a way I admire.

Is it possible to become less used to food on demand? When you eat what you or your known farmer grows, it means that at particularly times of the year, you don’t eat certain things. At my friend Anya’s dacha, we had okroshka, a cold buttermilk soup that celebrated, in her family, the arrival of the first cucumbers of the year.

Governments at all levels, in both the United States and Ukraine often make this revised thinking more difficult. In Simferopol Ukraine, the city government forbade street vendors from selling. This appears to be honored a bit in the breach, but for many people, it meant that city residents had to travel a bit further for food, and pay a bit more. As I describe farmers’ markets here to Ukrainian friends, there’s always a bit of puzzlement over the idea that they are once a week affairs. In the United States, the tangle of regulations about both producing and selling food at markets and elsewhere prevents many would-be growers and producers from entering the marketplace.

The future is cloudy for both American and Ukrainian eaters. We expect our governments to work for a common good and in both countries, the common good is often a highly debatable topic. There needs to be a transparency about food regulation and a willingness to both protect the food supply and encourage local webs of relationships.

I can imagine a future here in the US where a greater percentage of us eat seasonably and sustainably. But I can equally imagine a future of factory farms and contaminated food. In Ukraine, as the McDonalds are always jammed with young people and fewer young women (and virtually no young men) learn how to cook, the centuries old tie to the land may be broken. But I can also imagine a Ukraine where cooks still make the perfect pickle.

Note: over the past month, I've been taking an online food writing course with Molly O'Neill. Special thanks to her and my fellow foodwriters in the workshop for their thoughts and great advice on this article.

Making Samahon, from a Babushka's Recipe

2011-09-09T09:00:00.000-07:00

Andrea Wenglowsky is a New York City-based artist currently living in Ukraine as a Fulbright Fellow, studying contemporary art practices in several cities there. She's generously contributed this piece about making samahon, something that's a distinct part of many, if not most, Ukrainian gatherings. You can see more of Andrea's work here.

Since house parties are common with the hip youth of Ukraine, I have had the chance to do things like dance in stockinged feet to random pop or klezmer hits, sample varieties of pickles and sausages, and be served a mysterious amber colored liquid, all in the comfort of a warm living room.

Turns out that the unidentified liquid was home-brewed vodka, or samahon (самогон, literally ‘self-distillate’ or ‘self-run’.) To cut to the chase, it’s moonshine. It is very commonly made in villages in Eastern Europe and Russia and I am sure many ex-pats have tasted these strong spirits and consider it a sort of ritual to aid in understanding, or forgetting, Ukraine a little better with each sip.

However, a small glass of this particular batch did not put hair on my chest nor did it remind me of gasoline. I came out unscathed. What was the secret? I asked. My friend, whom we will call X for complete anonymity, simply said: It is my babushka’s recipe. We make it in her apartment right outside of Kyiv.

Months later, in the summer air, it was time for X to prepare a new batch, and I had the chance to observe the distillation process. Babushka has been making samahon for decades and it is illegal, and therefore she keeps a tight watch over her recipe, tools and its execution. X was a bit nervous, though didn’t show it, because this was her first batch mixed alone while Babushka was at their dacha, or country summer home.

On the way to the apartment, we had to pick up some key ingredients: sugar and yeast. These are the major players in this concoction. We all know that vodka can be made from grains or potatoes (or things like shoe polish, which is the moonshine one wants to avoid), but it is also very common to use beetroot or other household staples. Since sugar can be expensive, this is not as common, but X claims that this is perhaps why their drink is so good. It doesn’t have to be filtered or strained. The yeast is very special, and the only one Babushka allows. X says that when she buys it she gets a knowing and approving look from the merchant- they know what she is up to.

First, the yeast must be mixed with warm, but not hot, water and some sugar, and left to react in the way that yeast does in the comfort of the warm apartment. X found some random jam in a jar and threw some spoonfuls in there for good measure. She is not sure if it makes it taste any better or perhaps gives it some color. Once the distiller feels that it is ready, this yeasty mixture is poured into a huge tub, and filled with sugar and water. The last ingredient is milk, of course. This dollop of dairy is potentially a superstitious key ingredient, but Babushka swears by it.

My favorite part was taking a large stick and mixing this earthy smelling liquid all together. I felt a bit like a witch at a cauldron. Once the sugar was all dissolved, the lid was put on with a little air for breathing, and the tub was tucked in for a three-week slumber with coats and blankets, encouraged to ferment, react and brew.

Three to four weeks later, X and Babushka transfer the mixture to a special pressure cooker and boil it for four hours. The pot needs to be completely sealed so they sometimes adhere dough for varenyky around the rim to assure that the lid doesn’t come off. The liquid boils down under their close watch and the condensation drips out of the tubing into the jars. Voila! Babushka then adds fruit or tea for color.

Their recipe can never be duplicated, because just like most Ukrainian cooking, everything is done na oko, or by eyeballing it. But in addition to the special equipment, ingredients and know-how, I believe that Babushka’s incredible apartment gives keeps the samohon company and infuses this cultural staple/science experiment with tales, memories, and a special Ukrainian flavor.

Shopper's Delight

2011-09-06T18:43:00.000-07:00

In addition to the vendors, growers and cooks we have met across Ukraine, the Pickle Project also engages shoppers to learn more about what they buy, where and why.

We met Vera on a hot and steamy July day at L'viv's bustling Krakivsky Bazaar. Vera has been coming to Krakivsky for 10 or 15 years. She likes this market and knows most of the vendors here. She smiles, exchanging "dobry dehns" as she makes her way down the colorful aisles piled high with produce.

This afternoon, nestled in Vera's red "New York" market bag are carrots, cucumbers, lettuce, sweet peppers and potatoes. She told us she plans to make borscht (the beets are already at home, she said) and a fresh salad for the evening meal.

From Georgia, or ?

2011-08-23T06:13:00.000-07:00

The wisdom of crowds helped us learn a bit more about one snack we saw in a number of different markets (although I don't remember seeing them in Kyiv or L'viv). They were long, skinny brightly colored treats (above) that were hung up in markets, at vendors of dried fruit and nuts. One night we ordered a sampling of sweets in a Georgian restaurant in Donetsk and realized one of the treats on the plate was a cut-up version of what we'd seen. It had a nut inside a sort of hard jelly. The texture was sort of like fruit leather, but sweet and crunchy at the same time--maybe a little grapy? Hmmm? What was it?

So we put a picture up in one of our market reports and had a number of responses, all of which testify to the cross-pollination of food in Ukraine (and to the power of crowdsourcing!) That's not surprising given the country's important place on both sea and overland trade routes. Food traditions in Ukraine have come from what the land itself can produce, but also from traders coming across the Black Sea; settlers coming down from Russia, Turkey, and the Caucauses--and now, of course, from around the world.

This treat is called churchkhela in Georgia, rojik in Armenia, or Üzüm pekmezi (grape molasses) in Turkey. It's nuts strung out along a string and then dipped repeatedly in grape juice mixed with flour and sugar. A Google image search shows me mostly natural colors, but these brightly colored ones (probably food coloring) appear to be a newish innovation. Thanks to Florian Pinel, who blogs at Food Perestroika: Adventures in Eastern Bloc Cuisine, here's a recipe:

Churchkhela
10 qt grape juice [white or purple depending on your color preference]
1 lb sugar
2 1/4 lb flour
2 lb walnuts halves (or almonds, dried fruits…)

In a pot, reduce the grape juice over low heat for about 3 hours, progressively stirring in the sugar.
Whisk in the flour [to avoid lumps, I would place the flour in a large bowl and progressively pour in the liquid while mixing] and return to a boil. The resulting mixture is called tartara.
Thread the walnuts onto 1 ft-long pieces of string. Dip the strings into the hot tartara several times to obtain the desired thickness. Hang to dry for approximately 2 weeks, until the churchkhelas are still soft, but not sticky.
Wrap in towels and allow to mature for 2 to 3 months. The churchkhelas will develop a thin layer of powdery sugar.

Florian's site is a great look at both Eastern European restaurants in New York City and his travels throughout Eastern Europe. Check it out!

Inside detail photo from SF Weekly

Tea on a Summer Afternoon

2011-08-21T12:29:00.000-07:00

We recently had the good fortune of spending the afternoon with my friend Nataliya’s family in Yanif. Located northwest of L’viv, Yanif (also called Ivano Frankove) sits at the edge of the Roztochya Forest Preserve and on the shores of a sizable lake historically known for the salty, smoked fish produced there.

From the marshrutka stop, we made our way through the village, along the dusty roads and winding alleys, past raggedy dogs and fenced yards filled with chicken coops, roses and potatoes to Nataliya’s grandparents house. Cheerful and generous, Pavlina and Volodymyr Litynski are are in their 70s and maintain an energetic and lively household.

They live in a simple house with a small but bountiful kitchen garden, a little greenhouse made of windows for growing tomatoes and a few fruit trees. It is there that I have learned much about Ukrainian food traditions. In addition to being industrious vegetable gardeners and orchard keepers, three generations of this family, including my friend Nataliya, her mother, Halya, and her grandfather, Volodymyr, are all foresters and are knowledgeable experts on native Ukrainian berries, mushrooms and wild herbs.

It was one of those clear, blue summer afternoons and we found Volodymyr sitting in the grass, sorting just-picked red currants. After surveying the various stages of vegetables and fruits in the garden, as we always do when I visit, Volodymyr carried the kitchen table out into the dappled shade of the yard, much the way my own grandparents would on a summer day.

Under the trees, we nibbled seernik, a light Ukrainian cheesecake, with fresh raspberries and sipped a refreshing herbal tea that Pavlina made. The tea was a local mélange of wild raspberry leaves, wild strawberry leaves, nettles, mint and the delicate fruits of basswood. (For the forestry geeks out there, they are technically nutlets with a thin leafy bract. We often see these marketed for tea in big Ukrainian city markets as well.) All of these were collected around Pavlina and Volodymyr’s garden and, then, hung and dried in the "shadow" of the trees. They store this mixture in a canister in their cool, dry pantry.  

Despite the heat, we drank our tea hot and it provided that strange, cooling effect that warm and spicy foods produce. (Actually, I have always wondered about the physiological effects that spicy and hot foods precipitate. According to this 1999 Scientific American article, it has to do with the skin’s pain receptors, which can be stimulated by actual heat or by chemicals such as capsaicin, that simulate heat, to trigger a response from the nervous system.)

As we chatted and sipped, various neighbors passed through the yard, calling out greetings as they strolled by. Some carried borrowed garden tools, others bags of food or children. A few friends and cousins stopped to join us for a cup of tea, conversation and an idle moment during a busy season.

Special thanks to Pavlina and Volodymyr Litynski and Halya, Serhy and Nataliya Stryamets, as always, for their warm hospitality.

Ukrainian Cuisine: The Cookbook

2011-08-12T08:11:00.000-07:00

In our conversations in Ukraine, we've discovered that most Ukrainian cooks don't use recipes when cooking traditional Ukrainian dishes. Some now go to the Internet to try new things--Chinese or Italian, for instance, but most home cooks learned at the kitchen table with their mother or grandmother.

So imagine my surprise when my friend Gwen Spicer gave me a Ukrainian cookbook, called, simply, Ukrainian Cuisine, published in 1975 in English, in the Soviet Union (in Kyiv) that features all sorts of recipes and as well, provides a picture of a particular time and place, as presented in a form that perhaps doesn't always represent reality (just think about how few of our American meals actually resemble those in cookbooks or magazines).

In the introduction, the authors (H.I. Georgievsky, M.E. Melman, E.A. Shadura, and A. S. Shemjakinsky) write,

The consumer can now buy a wider variety of nutritious foodstuffs. Farming and the food industry supplies the market with greater quantities of better and more wholesome food than ever before. Canned products and processed foods help the housewife reduce the time needed to cook tasty family meals.

The cookbook, like all instruction books, is prescriptive. "To cook tasty meals you must follow the recipe and keep to the cooking time indicated." And referencing Pavlov, they advise that "to arouse the appetite and ensure that meals are thoroughly enjoyed, the important thing is eating at regular hours," to establish a proper reflex and healthy appetite. They recommend simple foods, without frills, quoting the Ukrainian folk proverb, "Eat simply and you'll live to a hundred."

But what are the recipes? Borscht gets its own chapter, with 24 different variations. I'm particularly intrigued by the regional variations. There is are recipes for borscht from Poltava, from Kiev, from Volyn, from Chernihiv, Galicia, Lvov, and Crimea as well as Krivy Rog cold borscht. There are recipes for varenyky with liver and salt pork; heart and lungs; cottage cheese; potato, potato and mushrooms; beans and mushrooms; and of course sweet varenyky with cherries, plums, or poppy seeds.

The home canning chapter is extensive. Detailed recipes provide information on pickling cucumbers, tomatoes, sweet peppers, eggplants, spiced greens watermelons, beets, cabbage and more. You can learn how to marinate mushrooms, "Place the mushrooms in rows caps down or pierce with wooden matches which are then inserted into a special staff. Another way to dry mushrooms is to string them up on thread or thin cord and hang them up to dry."

There's lots of cooking hints including:

Cook pearl-barley before adding it to the soups if you want to avoid that blueish tinge.
It is easier to clean slipper fish if you coat your fingers with salt.
Corn on the cob should be boiled without removing the husk and silk. Salt just before it is done.
To stop milk from brimming over, rub the edge of the saucepan with butter

And some tips for setting and serving Continental style.

Bread, cut neatly in accurate slices weighing 50-100 grams is placed on the table, on a plate or special bread basket.
Soft caviar is served in caviar bowls wtih ice in the metal bottom.
Soft boiled eggs are served in special egg cups.
A special knife is used for Dutch cheese.
Main course dishes are set on the table in oval or round bowls.

The book is a fascinating combination of familiar and unfamiliar recipes with these sort of aspirational instructions. I look forward to trying the recipes and to learning more about what role these type of books might have had for post-World War II cooks in Ukraine.

Note: The lovely illustrations are by O.I. Miklovda and the book was published by Technika Publishers, vul. Pushkina 28, Kyiv.

Galina’s Favorite Meal

2011-08-04T11:15:00.000-07:00

Often, discussion of food and culture is focused on those big celebratory meals, at holidays and seasonal festival times. On our recent research trip, we specifically explored the foods of daily life in Ukraine. Drawing on this work, the Pickle Project is launching the "Favorite Meal" segment, to share stories about people and their favorite foods and memorable meals.

Galina is an enthusiastic friend of the Pickle Project that lives in Donetsk. She told us that, while she does love to cook and spends much time tending her garden outside the city in the summer months, because of her busy schedule, she prefers simple, healthy, quick meals.

Galina’s favorite meal is a broth made with mutton and accompanied by black bread toasts. She makes the toasts by rubbing slices of heavy black bread with minced garlic. She then cuts the bread slices into small pieces and dries them out over several hours. The result is a crunchy, garlicy crouton that she can float in the flavorful broth. Galina also likes to add fresh dill to her soup and toasts. “Oh!” she gasped and put her hands on her cheeks, in mock ecstasy “it is delicious.” When she has time, she adds, she may also put together a quick cabbage salad. Her typical salad combines shredded green cabbage with sliced fresh cucumbers and smetana (a cultured milk product, like sour cream), with salt and pepper.

A Round of Thanks!

2011-07-31T12:24:00.000-07:00

During our recent trip to Ukraine, we found a vast, beautiful, changing country of great diversity, both in communities and landscape. We saw dramatic coastlines, vast fertile fields of wheat, high mountain meadows, large cities and tiny villages, all with a wide array of foods and traditions.

However, more important are the many people we met along the way and those that continue to support the Pickle Project, without whom our work would not be possible. Our partners are a cornerstone of the Pickle Project. Their enthusiastic on-the-ground assistance during this trip and ongoing collaborations make a great difference in our work. Specific thanks to:

· Ihor and Tania Poshyvailo from the Ivan Honchar Museum, Kyiv (with translation assistance from Valentina Bochkovska)

· Valentyna Sakhenko from Eko-Art, Donetsk

· Hannah Shelest from Promotion of Intercultural Cooperation, Odessa

· Ihor Savchuk, Sofiya Kosarchyn, Bozhena Zakaliuzhna and Olha Kotska from the Centre for Cultural Management, L’viv

Our thanks also go to a very long list (we hope we haven’t missed anyone) of wonderful people who provided translation, food and cultural research suggestions and ideas, transportation support and coordination, a place to rest our weary heads, a lovely meal with family, and so much more. In no particular order, we raise an appreciative glass to:

The entire Leonenko family, Donetsk (and Irina, there in spirit!)
Svitlana and Vladimir Salamatov, their family and neighbors, Kyiv
Neshet, Lenura, Serdar and Safie Seytaptiev, Ak-Meshet, Crimea
Katia Burkush, Kyiv
Barb Weiser, Peace Corps Volunteer, Simferopol/Ak-Meshet, Crimea
Cheryl Pratt, Peace Corps Volunteer, Sovetskiy, Crimea
Lidia Lykhach, Kyiv/US
Galina Chumak, Donetsk Art Museum, Donetsk
Staff at the village museum in Prelestno, Donetsk’a Oblast
Staff at the Greek museum in Sartana, Donetsk’a Oblast
Workers at the restaurant in Sartana, Donetsk’a Oblast
Lyubov, Ethnographer from the Museum of Local History, Donetsk
Alie Yuldasheva, Simferopol
Arzy Emirova, Crimea
Christi-Anne Hofland, L’viv
Eugene Chervony (L’viv) and family, L’vivska Oblast
Ania Ivanchenko, Donetsk
Alexandra Kirichenko, Donetsk
Carina, Donetsk
Natalia Bogachova, Odessa
Olya Kik, Oksana Terteka and Halja Pavlyshyn, L’viv
Nataliya Stryamets and the entire Stryamets family, L’viska Oblast
Olya and Mykola in Akreshori, Ivano-Frankivs'ka oblast
Cheesemakers Vasyl, Mykolya, Mykolya and others
All the market vendors everywhere!

Of course, last but certainly not least, we also extend our warmest gratitude to our Kickstarter backers, as well as key supporting partners Shelburne Farms and the Trust for Mutual Understanding, that enable us to conduct this vital fieldwork, continue to expand our network and further build the Pickle Project!

Lunch, Soviet-Style

2011-07-29T18:18:00.000-07:00

We had great home-cooked meals throughout Ukraine and saw and tasted tremendous fresh and pickled fruit and vegetables in markets and elsewhere. But in Yalta, in Crimea, we came across a remnant of the old Soviet-style of eating out--a stolovaya, or canteen. These canteens--or cafeterias--still exist across the former Soviet Union and once existed in every school and workplace.

But it was surprising to find one just off the seaside promenade in Yalta, where fancy clothing stores and expensive restaurants abound. Not at all crowded the day we ate there, it really did have the feeling of a different time. Nicholas II built a palace just south of the city, but in the 20th century, the entire Crimean Peninsula became a favored vacation spot for Soviet workers, with hundreds of sanitoriums dotting the rocky hillsides. So the place we found was an echo of a past, and it seemed as if the only people eating there, besides us, were older folks who remembered that different time.

A series of large dining rooms came off the small cafeteria line. Out the lace curtains, a seaside view. The selections were pretty minimal: borscht and solyanka for soup, cutlets, a sort of unknown goulash, cabbage salad, cucumber and tomato salad, compote (fruit drink) and bread. But it was really affordable (I see that stolovayas are often recommended in Lonely Planet guidebooks) and the food was dull, but edible.

Today, restaurants of every type abound in every large Soviet city: sushi, Italian, Ukrainian, Indian, and of course, fast food including McDonalds and the Ukrainian McFoxy. It's hard for me to imagine the time when this, this simple food, was what eating out was. Our meal in Yalta provided that important reminder (and slightly alarmed the 17 year-old boy with us, who wanted to eat at the McDonalds down the way).

One Last Market Report: L'viv, July 2011

2011-07-22T15:05:00.000-07:00

Sarah and I have returned home to the US with thousands of photos and pages of notes--but here's one more market report from our last city visit in Ukraine, L'viv. Enjoy! Above, a salad vendor. Below, a lovely mother/daughter team selling houseplants.

A pampushki (doughnut) vendor hidden amongst the sunglasses for sale.

Beans and carrots, and below, a mural in the dairy/meat building and two kinds of mushrooms.

And smetana, sour cream, which bears absolutely no resemblance to any sour cream you might eat in the United States. Delicious.

And finally, on a record-breaking hot day all across the United States, a cooling glimpse of watermelon as we come to a temporary end to market reports from Ukraine, but the start of many more blog posts on all we saw, learned and experienced.

Market Report: Odessa, July 2011

2011-07-15T13:05:00.000-07:00

We're having a hard time keeping up with posts, but last night made a list of more than 50 posts we want to write based on our amazing time here. We promise we'll get to all of them sooner or later! But for now, a quick market report from Odessa. Above, a beautiful bowl of sour cherries.

A shy market vendor shows off his dried apricots.

Pickled apples. Anyone ever tried them?

Many kinds of sunflower seeds, a popular snack everywhere in Ukraine--fried in a pan and eaten!

Odessa's market vendors were virtually all incredibly friendly--and this one was kind enough to pose for a picture...but then...

This market lady called the two of us over, and whipped out her pocket camera to snap one of the two of us together.

No, not Coke, but hand-squeezed juices including pomegranate and grapefruit. Recycling at its best.

And a shy young vendor (just finished sleeping, his mom said) amidst beautiful greens. Next up, market post from L'viv!

Market Report, Simferopol, July 2011

2011-07-12T21:31:00.000-07:00

We've already moved on after a terrific time in Simferopol but wanted to post these market pictures. Above, one of the Korean salad vendors (I believe most of these vendors or their families originally came to the Soviet Union from North Korea to study). In addition to the carrot salad above, kimchee, tofu and other salads were all gorgously arrayed in her case.

Simferopol is the only place we've seen plov cooked at a market. It's a rice dish, a bit like paella in that it's cooked outside in a large flat pan, and is a food associated here with Crimean Tatars, a dish they brought back from their forced exile in Uzbekistan.

Shashlik, or shish kebabs, is associated with picnics and outdoor eating all over Ukraine. But here in Simferopol was the only market where we've seen little outdoor restaurants for shashlik in the market.

The shashlik vendors here had long, narrow, specially-constructed charcoal grills, exactly the width of the skewer. Easy to cook!

This young girl was working at her family's shashlik stand.

Red chilis--not as common a sight in more northern markets. Also in Simferopol, because it's on a peninsula surrounded by the sea, there seemed to be many more fish vendors, selling a wide variety of fish, both fresh and smoked or dried.

And of course, what would any market be without fresh fruit or vegetable sellers. Here, we buy beautiful fresh, fragrant basil.

Overall, the market somehow seemed to have a more southern feel, more outdoors in some way.

Coming up in our next market report: Odessa. Stay tuned!

Mystery Fruit!

2011-07-08T00:31:00.001-07:00

And, now, a fruit identification challenge for Pickle Project readers! Yesterday, at a sidewalk market in Yalta, we encountered these little guys. They have smooth, firm orange skin and are sweet. We asked for the name in Russian, which I earnestly repeated several times, then, immediately forgot. (Moosh something?) The woody stem suggests a larger tree. This fruit is equally mysterious to eight of eight Crimean Tatar friends and colleagues sampled. Any ideas?

Market Report: on the road between Donetsk and Mariupol, July 2011

2011-07-07T12:32:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday, on our way back to Donetsk from Sartana, the Greek village near Mariupol, we stopped at a highway-side market to see what was for sale. The vendors told us they were all from nearby villages. Here's what was for sale. Above, pickles and pickled peppers.

Zucchini and patty pan squash.

Hazelnuts (the first we've seen in a from-the-village kind of market)

These are Georgian, we think. They are an almond stuffed inside a grape surrounded by a sort of hard fruit jelly. Anyone know the name?

Red and black currants.

Smoked fish. And finally, two market vendors who were kind enough to pose for us at their work.

Market Report: Kyiv, July 1, 2011

2011-07-03T00:22:00.000-07:00

We haven't posted for a few weeks because we've been getting ready for our planning trip to Ukraine--and here we are! Many more posts to come from the road these next few weeks, but to start, some mouth-watering photos from two Kyiv markets this past week. Berries, stone fruits, herbs for canning, and young garlic, radishes, and greens were in full beautiful bloom. Enjoy!

Beautiful blueberries!

Raspberries displayed in hand-made splint baskets.

Gooseberries, blackberries, raspberries.

So many berries, including at center, tiny wild strawberries. And now for the greens...

Cucumbers, radishes, greens. Notice how the staples of cabbage and potatoes take a back seat in the summer months.

Young garlic.

Dill and grape leaves packaged together to make a pickling bouquet.

Chanterelle mushrooms, gathered about two hours away and brought to the market for sale.

Carrots and hot peppers.

We've arrived in Donetsk, in eastern Ukraine, an entirely different landscape to explore. Stay tuned!

And Away We Go!

2011-06-14T16:17:00.000-07:00

We're putting together this summer's planning trip, supported by a grant from the Trust for Mutual Understanding and our grand backers on Kickstarter. The map above shows our tour around Ukraine and the cities we'll stop at. We'll be traveling mostly by train which also allows for some opportunities to make a few stops along the way in towns and villages. In Kyiv, Donetsk, L'viv, and Odessa, we'll be meeting with organizations to plan our food conversations in the fall as well as learning a bit about their work and their communities.

But everywhere we go, we hope to talk about, eat, photograph, think about, share, and experience food. We're interested in small-scale, community and family food practices, including kitchen gardens, orchards, home food preparation, foraging, gathering and storage. We're interested in understanding more about how rural food practices are adapted within urban settings.We want to learn about what makes one region of Ukraine different from another, foodwise, and explore how Ukraine's many different ethnic groups continue their own distinct food traditions while melding them within a larger culture.

If you're in Ukraine or have friends or family in Ukraine that you think we should visit with, please just respond in the comments or email us (see at right). And of course there will be posts and photos all along the way.

An Exciting New Endeavor for the Pickle Project!

2011-05-22T16:57:00.000-07:00

It is with great excitement that we share some wonderful news. In addition to the lavish support of our generous and inspiring Kickstarter backers, the Pickle Project recently got a big financial boost from the Trust for Mutual Understanding, a funder dedicated to promoting improved communication, closer cooperation and greater respect between the people of the United States and the Former Soviet States, and other countries in Eastern and Central Europe, through environmental and cultural exchange.

Augmenting our current research, documentation and social media efforts, this infusion of support will allow the Pickle Project to expand its observation of Ukrainian foodways, culture and sustainability through a series of “community conversations.” Partnering with Shelburne Farms, the amazing working farm and education center in Shelburne, Vermont, the Pickle Project is bringing together a diverse array of intergenerational perspectives, including local Ukrainian and American cooks, community leaders, agricultural practitioners, cultural managers and citizens, in Ukraine’s diverse urban communities. Coordinating with local partners in each city, these events are designed to promote expansive, cross-cultural dialogue and storytelling.

Many thanks to our supporters, backers and readers, who continue to energize, inform and encourage the Pickle Project’s work! As always, we will be sharing stories, photos and voices along the way! Look for updates at the Pickle Project blog and on Facebook and Twitter (@PickleProject)!

The Milk Truck

2011-05-14T15:35:00.000-07:00

While I was in Kyiv this spring, Olga Trusova (who spent her childhood in Ukraine but now lives in California) and I had a conversation about not just sustainable food in terms of growing, but also in terms of how food gets to the final consumer--and how that's changing. She then sent me these great photos she took of a milk truck last summer in Odessa. The truck would come to your neighborhood and residents would line up, with enameled tin containers in hand, to fill up with milk. As we talked, it reminded me of the milkmen of my own childhood, and the milk box on the back porch, which we filled with glass bottles to be returned and refilled and the early morning clank as the milkman replaced empty bottles with full ones.

Compare this milk truck with the way most of us buy milk here: the milk goes from the farm to a bottling plant and then from a bottling plant to the grocery store. We drive from our houses to the grocery store, drive home, drink the milk and then recycle the plastic container it came in. That's alot of steps--and alot of fossil fuel, to put milk on our cereal. But of course, a milk truck isn't always convenient and it's regular appearance presents challenges for many, given the demands of work and family. So we make compromises.

I was struck however, by the change that's implicit in these images. Look closely--there's not a single young person lined up to buy milk this way and it seems milk trucks in Ukraine may be headed the way of the milk box on my family's back porch, replaced by plastic jugs in plastic bags.

A Sign of Spring

2011-04-24T06:07:00.000-07:00

Today's guest post is by Sarah Whelan, a returned Peace Corps Volunteer to Ukraine. Sarah and another PCV have founded Eastword, an oral history project devoted to collecting and sharing of oral histories in the former Soviet States. You can read more about their work--and hear first-hand accounts here.

Gray. It’s the only word that comes to mind when I recall my first winter in Ukraine. I had arrived in October, to a glimpse of fall color that drifted away, yielding to gray and white woolen blankets of sky set above bare branches rooted in frost and frozen ground. The world seemed muffled, as silent people, bundled like nesting dolls walked from store to home, pressed cold hands against warm mouths while waiting for the marshrutka. Dogs wandered the street desperate for scraps and made the acres of dachas that stood behind my apartment building unsafe by their hunger.

“Is this it?” I wondered. “Is Ukraine this silent, cold, gray place? Growling dogs around each bend?” Survival, I concluded, would require preparation. I would be cold, silent, vigilant. I would be tough, silent, totally self-reliant. I would stand against this place solid as a statue, and as soon as I shaped my new, hardened countenance—There was Spring, bursting forth like a new world.

An entirely different country began to bloom, budding with new curiosities.

Once silent neighbors crowded the streets, planting flowers, cleaning away winter’s debris. They flooded into the dacha gardens, hands working furiously in the dark soil to plant the seeds of summer.

Then—a legend arrived: a large yellow barrel rolled out in to the park with one of the only words in Russian or Ukrainian I had known before arriving, Kvass. This was the drink mentioned by Tolstoy in War in Peace. The drink that the French turned down, saying “This is what you serve to the peasants.” The slightly alcoholic drink made from fermented bread. There it stood in its yellow barrel like a cylinder of sunshine people young and old gathered around it, and I felt like I was on the verge of discovery. I took my first sip, and… was it cola, beer, sweet or yeasty, sour? It was all of the above and my tongue didn’t know what to make of it.

Several days later a teacher at school asked me if I tried the drink. Yes, I confirmed.

“Did you like it?”

I shrugged. “It was okay.”

“Where did you have it?”

“The park.”

“Oh well, that’s not the right place to have it. You come over. I make good kvass.”

In her small kitchen the following day, she took great care and pride in explaining how to choose the right dark rye bread, how to create the croutons (or suhari), the right amount of sugar and the all important fermentation starter, zakvaska. Her eyes sparkled as she placed the jar delicately in the refrigerator, as if delivering a newborn to its mother for the first time. “And then you wait,” she said smiling. “It must turn a nice color.” She turned to face me, this time with a finished jar. “Like this.” Twinkle. Twinkle.

I sipped…. Sour, sweet, cola, beer? Again the confusion of flavors. A doubtful and weak, “Mmm,” emerged from my closed lips.

“It’s good, yes?” she twinkled on.

“Very,” I said, not knowing if I was lying or not. After all, how would I have any idea of what was good kvass and what was bad? I took another sip. Still hadn’t a clue.

“My husband,” she shared, “does not like it very sweet.”

I nodded unaware of how sweet it could be. As the season developed, warming through to blooming flowers, the kvass developed as well. As the gardens began to produce, the kvass shared the bounty--mint and berry lifted on the soft bubbles of carbonation, delivering the harvest, a growing spectrum of flavor as spring turned to Summer…. And then, as magically as it appeared, it disappeared. As a new academic year began and autumn began to threaten cold, the bright yellow barrel retreated. Gone.

Years later I can say that I miss kvass. Not its slightly sour, sometimes sweet, mildly alcoholic variations, but I miss that big yellow barrel in the park. I miss this Norman Rockwell scene of neighbors gathered around in the ultimate declaration of spring. Winter is over and young and old alike would raise a plastic cup in celebration, the signal to leave the cold behind.

Halvah! Hmm?

2011-04-18T10:05:00.000-07:00

Last spring, an issue of the American food magazine Saveur featured a short article on the New York City based Joyva candy company, the largest commercial producer of halvah, that delicious, nutty paste confection, in the United States. While, I had seen packaged halvah in America, I never tried it until I lived in Ukraine, where it is cut from giant blocks in producti and bazaars. As I learned from Chris McConnell’s Savuer article, the Joyva Company was, in fact, founded by Nathan Radutzky, a Ukrainian immigrant, in 1908.

According to Joyva’s website, halvah is an ancient treat whose name means “sweet meat” in Turkish. And, that is about right.. Sticky, crumbly and little spongy in texture (as unlikely a combination as that seems), it has the consistency of fudge. The confection is generally made of ground seeds, usually sesame, or various flours. A little googling and cookbook research suggest that it is also commonly made of sunflower seeds in Eastern Europe and some of the former Soviet states, which makes sense given the abundance of sunflowers in Ukraine. This also explains some of the variation in taste I have experienced around Ukraine, where regional versions of dishes reflect the specific cultural influences in that area. Halva is wonderfully sweet and nutty, often studded with pistachios (which I LOVE and someone told is in a Balkan style), other nuts or dried fruits. It is also sometimes covered with chocolate. My favorite havlah is procured from an Azerbaijani family that sells dried fruits at a little bazaar in L’viv.

My search for a tested and endorsed sunflower halvah recipe came up short. So, if Pickle Project readers have one to share, we are all ears!

Photo provided by Grace Eickmeyer, US Peace Corps Volunteer, Crimea. Thanks, Grace!

From the Wedding Tree: Kalina Berries

2011-04-14T04:44:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Peace Corps Volunteer Barb Trecker for soliciting another contribution to the Pickle Project. Kalina berries are a vital part of Ukrainian traditions, and here's a short article and recipe by text by Larisa Malykh of Kiliya, Ukraine, above photo by Viacheslav Malykh, and translation by Barbara Trecker.

From ancient times, viburnum (kalina) was a favorite tree in Ukraine, loved by all people for the beauty she gives. In spring, viburnum blossoms are little snow-white umbrellas that look like the headdress of a fiancée. In autumn, viburnum makes the eye happy with its bushes and blood-red berries, which hang on through the frosts. Kalina was the traditional symbol of love and beauty, so wedding tables were decorated with these branches – and thus the name “wedding tree.” But viburnum was not only admired for its beautiful attributes. This is also a remarkable medicinal plant! The viburnum plant contains ascorbic acid, tannins and glycosides, and for health maintenance, has enough vitamins to exceed the exotic lemon! In antiquity, the bark of viburnum was used as a styptic agent, and as a sedative for cramps.

Kalina berries are very delicious, especially after frosts. From recipes dating back to olden times, remarkable pies can be prepared, as well as cheesecakes, jams, fruit jellies, and pastries. All these sweets were easily accessible, and favorite for any family.

Viburnum also has applications in cosmetics and dermatology: the extract of viburnum flowers is a treatment for allergic skin reactions, and viburnum juice is a treatment for blemishes.

Babushka's Recipe

Try it – it’s delicious!

To prepare a delicious and nourishing drink, the best thing to do is collect viburnum berries in winter, and grab them right after a frost. Pour boiling water over the frozen berries, and immediately pour the water back off. Then mash the berries, and again inundate them with boiling water. This will be ready to drink in 10-15 minutes. For better taste, add a globule of honey and a splash of lemon.

Second photo: Kalina berries in a house at Pyrohiv, the outdoor museum; bottom: dried kalina berries for sale at a market, April, 2011

Market Report: Volodymyrs'ky Rynok, Kyiv, April 6, 2011

2011-04-08T11:19:00.000-07:00

This week, I took a quick trip, amidst a pile of other work, to Volodymyrs'ky Rynok (market), near Palats Ukraina, a place I'd been to once, early on my first trip to Ukraine, long before we thought about the Pickle Project. Proved a great market scouting trip, both on the streets outside of the market and inside in the large hall. What did I find this week?

Winter and a tiny bit of spring: pumpkin, horseradish, eggs, potatos and spinach.

Dried herbs--but I think not so much for eating, as cleaning. (Suggestions, corrections?) At lower right are the tops of little (bigger than a whisk broom, smaller than a U.S. full-sized broom) handmade brooms still used everywhere.

Pickled tomatos and below, pickled mushrooms and some sort of vegetable/cabbage/tomato mix.

The poultry counter: chickens, turkeys or ducks, and on the right, some little bird we didn't recognize--squab?

Every market has dried fruit and nut venders, and for some reason, the vast majority of them are from Uzbekistan. This visit I noticed you could also buy Uzbek pottery at most of their booths, including a souvenir plate from Tashkent!

There are lots of imported fruits and vegetables at the market, but this stall really represents local food. Cabbage, potatoes, carrots, turnips and beets.

The dairy counter. Milk, soft cheese, sour cream. Below, pickles three ways.

There's something great about the market ladies: sometimes a little gruff, always hard-working, and just sometimes, a smile.

And, yes, spring is coming! Pansies and petunias are out at the market. Enjoy!

A Beautiful Feast

2011-04-04T10:29:00.000-07:00

Just a short post, highlighting this great picture. It was sent to me by my friend Olga Cherems'ka of the Kharkiv Literature Museum, and is of a lunch at her son's school, at a special folk culture day, where the teachers prepared special dishes. What's to eat? Here's her description:

There are pancakes (mlyntsi), ham (shynka), meat "kruchenyky", baked pumpkin with dried fruit, sausages, cabbage, fish aspic (kholodets'). The bread which is decorated with patterns called loaf ("korovaj"). Square bread in the left corner - a pie with mushrooms.

Now there's a school lunch. Enjoy! And don't forget, Ukrainian friends and colleagues, and friends and colleagues in Ukraine (we know some of both) we love to see your pictures, hear your stories, and share with our blog readers. Thanks Olga!

Market Report: Carnivores Edition, March 30, 2011, Kyiv

2011-03-30T12:03:00.000-07:00

This post is for carnivores only. At markets, meat is on display in its many forms. Ukrainian butchers really use the tip to tail, so beloved by trendy chefs. I didn't get a picture, but I think oxtails today, along with tongue, liver, hearts, and more. And of course, salo, the pork fat much beloved here. So, meat-eaters, enjoy! Vegetarians, avert your eyes!

Market Report: Kyiv, March 23, 2011

2011-03-23T04:35:00.000-07:00

Today's photos are not from a single market, but grabbed on the fly as I've been around the city this past week--and to me, you can really see the transition from winter (with potatoes, nuts and dried mushrooms) to spring (with seeds, pussywillows and snow drops). Spring is coming!

A Harvest of Photos

2011-03-20T04:24:00.000-07:00

You never know what a visit to the antique market here in Kyiv (where I'm back for a month or so, working on some museum projects) will bring. Yesterday's visit brought a harvest of photos related to--well, harvests! And although our interests are primarily in Ukrainian food today, these photos provide important context and make me realize how much we have to learn. In particular, you'll notice that most of these are of collective farms in villages, reflecting the policy of forced collectivization that began in the late 1920s under Stalin--ostensibly to increase food production, but of course, primarily to increase control over villagers. A goal was to increase mechanization of food production--with equipement like the tractor shown below. What the photos also show to me is the richness of Ukraine's landscape and the variety of crops produced here: wheat, corn, sugar beets, pigs, and more.

And as this final photo was explained to me by the seller, it shows a propaganda brigade, dressed in traditional costumes, that would go out into the fields, singing and encouraging a productive harvest. More details welcomed and encouraged about any of these photos!

Perfect for Pancakes: Celebrating Maslenitsa

2011-02-26T08:06:00.000-08:00

Malenitsa is the Orthodox Christian version of Mardi Gras--the celebration before Lent begins--but its origins are far more ancient as a Slavic festival celebrating the beginning of spring. And just as, for Catholics, Shrove Tuesday is often celebrated with pancakes, pancakes are a central part of Maslenitsa celebrations as well. It's known, variously, as Butter Week, Pancake Week, or Cheese Week. But why pancakes? It's said that their round, sunny face resembles the sun, an infrequent sight this time of year.

With a little googling, I found (via http://www.panoramio.com/photo/11385505) one of the places in the center of Kyiv to get pancakes. At this stand in Shevchenko Park, there are almost always lines of people awaiting their pancakes, hot, fresh and rolled with jam, spiced apples, mushrooms, or other fillings. These pancakes, also called blini, are more like crepes, and not like the big fluffy American pancakes. Here's a link to a recipe for Grandma's Famous Blini's from Alexandria at Just a Pinch recipe club.

The week of Maslenitsa culiminates in Forgiveness Sunday. Traditionally, villages would build a huge man of straw, a symbol of winter, in a bonfire and burn away, this symbol of winter, apologizing to each other for the sins of the last year. At Pyrohiv, the outdoor museum outside Kyiv, the bonfire is still an annual event, drawing visitors out from the city and we hope, chasing the winter away!

Top image: from Lugansk Food and bottom image of Pyrohiv from FlyUA Journal.

Now, We Raise a Glass...

2011-02-07T12:09:00.000-08:00

As Pickle Project followers likely already know, our Kickstarter fundraising effort ended last week in success! In fact, I am delighted to report that we actually surpassed our goal! We have been overwhelmed and inspired by all of the support and encouragement that poured in. The Project’s backers come from around this great Pickle Planet. (And, yes, I believe I will use this phrase moving forward.) So, we have good cause to celebrate, giving rise to occasion for discussion of the wonderful tradition of toasting in Ukraine, a topic also discussed briefly in a previous post on infused vodkas. A centerpiece of any gathering, toasts are both formulaic and expressive, delivered in sequence, with high flourish and sentimentality. Although there is not consensus among my experiences or advisors as to the exact order of the toasts (this may reflect region, occasion and generation), a classic series is as follows.

First, a toast for health! на здоров'я! This phrase is used not only for drinking but also as a form of “you're welcome” when sitting down to a meal. According to a recent World Bank Health and Demography study on Ukraine, consistent with global trends, the country’s population is increasingly facing chronic disease, including obesity and hypertension. The rates of these diseases appear to vary both by region in Ukraine and socioeconomic background. This suggests that development, food system and diet patterns may vary dramatically across the country.

The second toast is for friends. Many of the posts that appear on the blog are inspired by experiences shared with friends, informed by consultation with friends or written by friends of the Pickle Project. We are grateful for the amazing network of friends and colleagues that contribute to this effort in one way or another! The Pickle Project is lucky to include among its friends students, members of the US Peace Corps community, Fulbright Scholars, restaurateurs, farmers, home cooks, archivists, museum directors, artists, sauerkraut enthusiasts and many more.

The third toast is always for love and women. For this toast, all men rise to their feet, glasses in hand, while another man extols the virtues of the female and/or romance. It is generally acknowledged, the more flowery and sentimental, the better. “Love is...” “A beautiful woman...” “My dear wife...” You get the idea. As Linda discussed in a recent post, most of the Pickle Project’s Kickstarter backers are women. And, gender is an interesting factor relative to food. Although it continues to be noted, as Charlotte Druckman did her winter 2010 Gastronomica article “Why are there no great women chefs?,” that the elite food world remains a male-dominated field, women are strongly connected to food cultivation, preparation and preservation, in both North America and Europe. We hope to dig deeper into issues of food and gender in future fieldwork and posts.

And, the fourth toast is for success. The Pickle Project’s Kickstarter triumph is a testament to resonance and importance of food, culture and sustainability in Ukraine and around the world. Linda has blogged observations, in two posts, about our experiences with Kickstarter and how it can be used to support creative projects at the Uncataloged Museum. A third post on Kickstarter lessons learned is forthcoming.

The final toast of the evening is typically given by the host, as the guests are preparing to depart. на коня or lietrally “on the horse,” is a friendly parting salutation, one last drink, as you ride away. I have heard that is both a Cossak and Hutsul tradition.

With that, we raise our glasses.. To health! To friendships, new and old! To loving what you do! And, to our success! We did it together! Будьмо!

Special thanks to Zhanna Tsemenko, Olga Collin, Irina Fursman and Nataliya Styamets for their thoughts on food and gratitude this week. And the images from top to bottom: a birthday toast, photo by Christi Anne Hofland; painting at the Museum of Modern Art, Kyiv; singing group in Opishne, and painting by Maria Primchenko,

Women at Work: Selling What You Grow

2011-01-26T09:31:00.000-08:00

Sarah and I have noticed that a huge percentage of our Kickstarter backers are women--and we think that's rightfully so, as a great deal of the Pickle Project really is about women as well. Of course, one thinks of women as cooking and preserving, but this post is about those women, at stalls in indoor markets, lined up outdoors outside the indoor markets, or even just outside a subway stop, who sell fresh produce from their gardens, the woods and fields. They're a group that your support on Kickstarter will help us learn more about when we return but I wanted to share some initial thoughts and images here.

People, primarily women, sell an amazing variety of hand-produced goods on the street. I've purchased a handmade willow basket outside a subway and hand-painted wooden and real eggs around Easter time outside churches--on Willow Sunday, long lines of women sell bouquets of pussy willows outside churches and cathedrals. My first time in Ukraine I lived in a big Soviet bloc apartment building and every Saturday morning, in the tiny courtyard of these buildings, 4-5 cars would pull up, open their trunks and sell meat, milk and produce. Several times I took an early morning train out of Kyiv, and as the train left, I could see long lines of women walking from a bus stop, heading into the city, with their plaid market bags full of things to sell. They must have left their own homes incredibly early to be in place as morning rush begins.

A block from my apartment last spring, in the center of Kyiv, two women marked the seasons with their small display of produce displayed on cartons: walnuts, as winter ebbed away, and then beautiful strawberries, raspberries and cherries, along with lettuce and herbs. At the market outside Lukianivs'ka metro station, there are indoor market vendors, with regular stalls, but a long line-up of women and men sell small stores of everything from ducks and eggs to flowering plants, to homemade pickles and sauces, everything carefully packed to come from the village to the city.

I think of these women as babushkas, as grandmothers, and many of them are. But perhaps equal numbers are younger women, also working to support families. I came to admire Ukrainian women a great deal during my time there--because they are incredibly hard workers taking on a great deal of work in order to support their families in a country where the economic crisis and post-Soviet independence have meant extremely strained finances for many families. And women in Ukraine, like in many countries, have not only responsibility for family and home, but also for generating income. Street vendors, of course, have none of the workplace protections that still exist for many in Ukraine.

Customer service is still an emerging concept in Ukraine: dealings with grouchy post office, railroad and other types of employees are often the norm. But what I found surprising and touching was that street vendors, the women with the fewest resources, in difficult circumstances, were often the people most likely to give me a great smile and a bit of conversation as they wrapped up their beautiful berries. I don't want to romanticize this in any way, but rather to wonder whether this bit of independence, helping to support your family by what you grow or make, supports not only the family budget, but also a deeper part of life.

And just a reminder: your pledge to the Pickle Project made before 5:00 PM Eastern time, on February 1 will help us meet our goal, return to Ukraine, and learn more about the women whose stories deserve to be told.

The Official T-Shirt

2011-01-24T12:59:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's true. Supporters at the $50 level or above on Kickstarter will receive our official Pickle Project T-shirt. It's 100% cotton, designed and hand-stencilled in the size you desire--but, we need to reach our goal in order to make the T-shirts available to all our great supporters--so pledge before February 1!

And our heart-felt thanks to all our backers. You're amazing!

The Pickle Project Pops Up

2011-01-22T05:12:00.000-08:00

We've generously received some great coverage of our efforts we thought you'd enjoy.

You can hear Sarah interviewed on the Nash Holos radio program from Vancouver here.
You can read an interview with Linda at the Watershed Post about the similarities between New York's Catskills and the Carpathians here.
and, you can read Linda's guest post about historic photos, Ukraine and memory at the Archives Info blog here.

And don't forget to back us on Kickstarter. As of this morning, only 9 days left to reach our goal. Our immense thanks go out to those of you who've already pledged your support! You can easily learn more about our project and become a supporter here.

How Can You Be a Part of the Pickle Project?

2011-01-20T11:50:00.000-08:00

We've been madly tweeting (follow @PickleProject for a Pickle Pic of the day) and Facebooking about our new effort--but finally, here's a blog post about your chance to become directly involved in the Pickle Project. Take a look at our video above and learn more about the next steps in our project. But our next steps won't happen without your help.

Here's the deal:

Kickstarter is a unique online platform for funding creative ideas--including ours. Click here to go to the Pickle Project on Kickstarter. Watch the video, read about what we'd like to do, and check out the great premiums we're offering for your support. I mean, who wouldn't want the official Pickle Project T-shirt, a painted Ukrainian egg or folk pottery? Even a pledge of $10 brings us one step closer to our goal.

But it's all or nothing. A unique facet of Kickstarter is that you must make your goal, by a set date, or you receive none of the funding. So we have 11 days to go, and we're making progress every day--but we need to make more!

How do you pledge? Just click on the green button that says Back This Project. You'll be asked to input your pledge amount and select a reward. From there, you will go through the Amazon checkout process. Note that you must finish the Amazon checkout process for your pledge to be recorded.

If the Pickle Project is successfully funded, your card will be charged when we reach our funding deadline--for us, February 1. If we don't reach our funding goal, your card is never charged. Don't have a credit card or want to use Amazon? Please contact us directly so we can help you.

To date, 65 incredible people from all over the world have supported us. We're touched and heartened by the great good spirit of friends, families and perfect strangers. We'd love for you to join them--but don't delay!

Pampushki Holiday: Delicious Doughnuts!

2011-01-14T08:15:00.000-08:00

In last Sunday's New York Times, a travel article described L'viv, in Western Ukraine, as a place impossible to forget. Today, we're pleased to have a blog entry from that memorable place. Christi Anne Hofland (above, left) is teaching English in L'viv and shared her observations on the annual Pampushki Festival. Enjoy!

Today is January 14, the end of the Ukrainian month-long Christmas holidays characterized by a month of feasting, beginning with St. Nicholas Day on December 19th and ending with the Old New Year celebration on January 14th. During the holidays, one can find all the traditional Ukrainian dishes, including varenyky, holedyets, Christmas kutya, and of course, pampushki. Pampushki are Ukrainian donuts traditionally served on Christmas Day. This Christmas season in L'viv's Ploscha Rynok, we celebrated the 4th annual Pampushki Holiday.

Living in the city center of Lviv, I walk through the Plosha Rynok everyday but I had never seen so many people in the Plosha Rynok as I did during the Pumpushki Holiday! By evening it was almost impossible to cross the Rynok Square, everyone was there to sample the famous Ukrainian donut and foot traffic was hardly moving. The square was lined with vendors selling their own versions of the tasty fried treats. People lined up (or crowded up, which seems to be more the Ukrainian way) in front of the vendors known for the best pampushki.

There were pampushkis filled with jam, chocolate, poppy seeds, or cream. Pampushkis were also covered in powdered sugar, chocolate, sweet sweetened condensed milk, or various fruit sauces. Groups of carolers paraded through in traditional “vertep” costumes. A Ukrianian folk band was playing on the stage. Kids were making Pampushki crafts at the children’s booths. Ice skaters filled the outdoor skating rink. A crowd was gathered right in the center of the Plosha Rynok. As I pushed through the crowd I encountered the largest pile of Pampushki I had ever seen! Women dressed in Ukrainian folk costumes were handing out free pampushki to anyone who made it to the front of the crowd. Of course I managed to snatch one too. Soft, fluffy, fresh, sweet and amazing! I think it probably tasted even better because of the effort it took to get my hands on one!

Photos: Top: Christi Anne and friend enjoy a pampushki; center: a pampushki vendor, 2009; bottom: Sarah Crow with a human pampushki, 2009.

Ukrainian Christmas, San Francisco Style

2011-01-10T07:42:00.000-08:00

Olga Trusova, our very first supporter on Kickstarter, is our guest blogger here. Enjoy her mouthwatering description of a traditional Svyata Vercherya meal in San Francisco. If you have recipes, meals, and photos to share about your Ukrainian food traditions, please share!

On January 7th, we celebrated Ukrainian Orthodox Christmas. Twelve meatless dishes were served with the first rising star during Svyata Vecherya. Since there is only a handful of places like Veselka in the Bay Area (Renaissance, Fandorin, Russia House, and Babushka, among the few), I decided to cook this traditional Ukrainian Christmas feast at my home in San Francisco.

Born in Odessa to a Ukrainian mother and a Russian father, I consider myself an Odessitka above all. Odessa, a Ukrainian city on the Black Sea, combines the cultures and flavors from various parts of the world, brining traditions and passions of Ukrainians, Russians, Moldovans, Armenians, Georgians, Greeks, Jews into one delicious party. Borscht and pirogi, wine and lavash, brinza and gefilte fish - these are some of the staple foods of an Odessit, and they deserve a separate blog post all together. But for Svyata Vecherya, I decided to focus on cooking traditional Ukrainian food for my friends and family, as a way to celebrate my mother's heritage and to give American folks a chance to try authentic Ukrainian dishes.

Our twelve course meal consisted of kutya, zakuski (sauerkraut, pickles, herring, smoked fish, pickled mushrooms), borscht and garlic pompushki, vareniki with sour cream, honey cookies and Russian candy, accompanied by whortleberry mors, kvas, rose-hip drinks, and lots of vodka. When it comes to borscht, I can talk for hours about my love for the beet soup. It seems like every family in Ukraine has its own borscht recipe - I, of course, follow my mom's and will not reveal its secret ingredient to anyone. Kutya, on the other hand, deserves some explanation. It is kind of a cross between pudding and porridge, made with poppy seeds, poppy milk, toasted walnuts, wheat berries, honey, raisins, and served cold primarily during Christmas. If you know the history of kutya, please share it, as kutya is quite fascinating and seems to be a very ancient creation (maybe even an early aphrodisiac).

Zakuski, or appetizers, were purchased from the Royal Market & Bakery on Geary Street - a small "Russian ghetto" in San Francisco, where I get my Russian/Armenian food fix from time to time. My neighbor Mary brought an amazing homemade herring from the Nordic House in Berkeley. My friend Kara brought potato and cheese vareniki, or dumplings, prepared according to her grandmother's recipe. We were very lucky to have such an amazing feast and such a joyful Christmas this year!

Of course, for an authentic Svyata Vecherya, a cook uses only local ingredients. It's an opportunity to dig into those pickled and preserved goods that make winter so comforting. So I'm already thinking about how to adapt our next Christmas meal to my life in California. Looking at the Epicurious seasonal ingredient map of where I live now, I see so many exciting ways in which I can stay close to this land as well. Avocados, kumquats, kale, swiss chard are among a few exciting foods in season at the moment. What would Svyata Vecherya look like with those ingredients in place? After all, this pescaterian meal was created in celebration of Christmas, for being grateful for the gifts given throughout the year, and for gathering the family together during one of the coldest months of winter to enjoy many dishes prepared with what the land provided.

Z Rizdvom Hrystovym!

Usvar for the Holiday and the Everyday!

2010-12-28T11:03:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year, Dear Readers!

During the holiday times, so much of our focus is the special, exceptional food that characterizes the season. But, I do so delight in those foods and drinks that mark both daily life and the festivals of the holiday. One such item is usvar, or compote, a delicious fruity beverage made from a mélange of dried fruits. Sometimes tart, sometimes sour, usvar may be flavored with any blend of revived dried fruits, including apples, pears, cherries, plums, blueberries and raisins, depending upon availability. Apples are probably the most common ingredient. The fruits are harvested and preserved in the summer and autumn by drying for use through winter and spring. During the harvest months, one can see garlands of apple rings dangling from kitchen windows and rafters in both the city and the village. I once watched with great anxiety as my L’viv neighbor endeavored to balance on his fourth floor apartment balcony railing to secure a string of apple slices for drying from the roof, all while smoking a cigarette, no less.

Another distinctive addition to the elixir is smoked prunes. Usvar with this ingredient is a potent, earthy taste sensation. I am crazy about a smoky usvar but it should be said that there is a wimpy, fussy contingent of the population (and my own family, I might add) that find it a bit intense for their delicate tastes.. The beverage is mildly sweetened with honey or sugar and often accented with spices or dried herbs from the garden or forest.

Of course, usvar is drunk year-round but is also customary for the Christmas table in Ukraine. And, given that Orthodox Christmas will be celebrated this year on January 6, it is the perfect time to steep some up usvar to celebrate. Or just because.

Usvar

Adapted from a recipe in Ukrainia by Bete Blaha, from Culinaria, edited by Marion Trutter (2006).

1 pound/half kilo of dried apples and or pears

½ cup pitted prunes

½ cup dried blueberries or other berries

½ cup raisins

1 cinnamon stick

3 cloves

Juice and rind of a lemon

Honey and sugar to taste

Rinse the fruit in cold water. Bring 1½ quarts (1.5 liters) of water to a boil, adding desired sugar. Add the apples or pears and simmer for five minutes. Then, add the remaining fruit and simmer for another five to ten minutes. Remove from heat and stir in lemon juice and honey, if desired. Let stand overnight so that the flavors may intensify. Strain the liquid (eat the fruits or toss them out). Usvar may be kept in the refrigerator for up to two weeks. Smachno!

Photo courtesy of Linda Knedsen McAusland

A Round on St. Andrew's Day

2010-12-21T08:28:00.000-08:00

The Ivan Honchar Museum in Kyiv is dedicated to traditional Ukrainian folk culture. They have a full calendar of events that encourage and continue all sorts of traditions--including food. They've recently started posting great photos in their Facebook albums-and the photo above made me email my friend Ihor Poshyvailo, the deputy director there, to ask for an explanation about what to me, looked like a giant bagel! He wrote back,

That giant bagel on a string is a kalyta - a ritual bread used in Andriy (Adrew) traditional feast - December 13. It symbolizes the sun (often made in a form of a circle, stars) and during the feast boys have to jump and bite it not smiling (other boys and girls are standing nearby trying to make him laugh). If smiling he is black marked on his cheek... It's a rudiment of ancient rites of passage...

Although this day celebrates St. Andrew, a patron saint of Ukraine, this and other rituals date back even further. Many Ukrainian traditions stem from pre-Christian rites that were adapted for Christianity. St. Andrew's Day was also a time for fortune-telling, particularly to predict a young woman's future spouse. And food played a critical role in these activities as well. A piece of loaf sprinkled with salt and placed under your pillow. Your dreams that night would reveal your future husband while your homemade dumplings could also reveal who would be the first to be married! For more information on those traditions, click here.

As the year turns at the cold winter solstice, it's a great time to check out the beautiful photos by Bogdan Posyvailo of summer celebrations on the Honchar Museum's Facebook page.

All photos courtesy of the Ivan Honchar Museum

A Village Christmas Story from Ukraine

2010-12-19T19:09:00.000-08:00

Fran Cary, a Peace Corps volunteer who has shared her experiences before on the Pickle Project, sent us this beautiful piece that ties together so many elements of seasonality, sustainability, food and life in Ukraine. Thanks Fran, for continuing to share your life in Starobelsk with Pickle Project readers.

Remember those cute little pigs I saw when Olga and I visited Tonya at her farm in Kurychevcka? Well today I bought some.

Yes, Tonya and her husband came to town with a carload of fresh pork and had a good sale in the back of Natala's shop. All the pork was freshly butchered, cleaned and packaged. I feel I had a small hand in this because Tonya and Natalia met through me, when Olga was looking for a new place for me to stay in town. Lots of good connections, and good cheer, came out of it!

Neighbors, friends and customers of Natalia's came and stocked up on all the fresh meat they wanted for the winter. Natalia bought tons of pork herself to freeze and take to her family in Kyiv for the holidays. And Tonya and her husband Vlad went home with enough cash to see them through the winter.

Natural fresh meat! Ukrainians care a lot about natural foods, from produce to meat. They want to know if any fertilizer or other stuff has been added to the ground or fed to the animals. Tonya assured all customers the pigs were well fed with only the best food. I myself fed apples and corn, along with handfuls of fresh grain to those little pigs, and to the big fat ones too.

Now that I am at Natalia's and cooking for mostly for myself, I've bought chicken and meat at the supermarket. It's been mostly tasteless and unedible and I told that to Natalia when she saw me feeding it to the cat. "Is it okay for the cat?" I asked. "Yes, but why not eat it yourself?" "Because it doesn't taste good." That's when she told me Tonya was coming with her pig meat, and would be having a sale at the back of her shop. I was delighted, though my first thought was of those little pigs running around in circles and looking quite loveable. To think they would now be on the dinner tables of Starobelsk!

Today, when Tonya was busy selling the meat and it was my turn to buy, I turned to Natalia for help. I had never bought pork like this, knowing the pigs personally as it were, and wasn't sure what I wanted. I asked Natalia to get what she wanted and I would pay for it. She then told Tonya the story of my meat-buying experience and said "даже не кошка съест!" They laughed and laughed. Tonya then turned to me and translated. Natalia said "not even the cat would eat the meat you gave her!"

Life is hard for Tonya. She works 24/7 to maintain a self-sufficient farm with her husband and adult sons, who work the farm but are unemployed, a difficult and worrisome situation for her. She also adds a few hryvnia to the household economy from teaching. But the products of their farm have become more and more important to sustaining the family.

And so it was a Merry Christmas for Tonya and her family after the pork sale, and I felt glad for it. Snow fell on the town, soft and lovely. Spirits were high. Scenes of holiday sharing danced in my head. And I thought, with a smile in my heart: This is the best kind of Christmas.

New York Times' Album on Gourmet Forage

2010-12-15T12:21:00.000-08:00

Today's New York Times album “Searching for Ingredients Beyond the Garden” highlights the growing use of wildcrafted and collected plants and fungi by American restaurateurs, chefs and gourmands.

Of course, collection of mushrooms, berries and wild herbs is a central part of Ukrainian food systems and gastronomy. (Check out our post chronicling a forest forage of delicious quince!) The New York Times album really showcases the use of small woodland herbs for flavoring and accents. One of my favorites from Ukraine is the infusion of wild mints in teas, a warm yet refreshing and medicinal tonic on a blustery winter evening!

And, while you cozy up with a that cup of tea, click on over to Kickstarter to support the Pickle Project's efforts to document and celebrate Ukrainian foodways!

What do you eat for Thanksgiving in Crimea?

2010-12-14T15:20:00.000-08:00

Pumpkin manti of course! Peace Corps Volunteer Barb Weiser shares this post about making pumpkin manti with her neighbor Lenura in preparation for a Peace Corps Thanksgiving that combined American and Crimean traditions. Thanks Barb and Lenura!

For my contribution to the dinner, I asked Lenura to help me make pumpkin filled manti, a Crimean Tatar dish. Of course, it was really the other way around—she made them and I helped—mostly folding the manti into their intricate little shapes. Manti are a steamed dumpling or ravioli, traditionally filled with meat but sometimes with pumpkin and onions as we did this time, or other fillings. The real art to making manti is the crust. Composed of only flour and water and a small amount of salt, it is rolled out to a thin crust.

I was amazed how quickly Lenura was able to take a ball of dough and turn it into a perfectly round, very large and thin crust, ready to be cut into squares for the filling. Folding the manti into the proper shape with the filling inside is a precise maneuver, but easy to master—even I was able to learn it!

Then the manti are placed onto stacking trays in a stove top steamer (brought from Uzbekistan—it was Neshet’s mother’s) and 30 minutes later you have beautiful delicious steamed manti, usually served with a dollop of butter or sour cream.

Correction: I had earlier posted a recipe here that didn't quite reflect Lenura's. Barb's comment below sent me further afield on the Internet to discover that the manti Lenura made is perhaps a combination of two fascinating traditions. Turkish manti have an egg dough and are boiled, like Ukrainian pelmeni or its many variations, but the steamed manti with no egg in the dough is from Central Asia, most often described as from Uzbekistan. And of course, that combination reflects the Crimean Tatars' history of origins, deportation and return.

You can find a recipe for lamb-filled manti, steamed with no egg in the dough, on the food blog, Anna's Recipe Box. Anna describes Uzbek food as the food she grew up with and includes recipes for other Uzbek foods as well. Sopressata, another food blog, also has a recipe for Uzbek dumplings, with an egg in the dough and fried. But she also describes how to make a pumpkin filling for you to try.

Across time and across space, we make recipes our own and family food traditions continually evolve. The museum person in me, who thinks about artifacts, sees so much, so many stories embedded in that simple steamer, brought home to Crimea by Lenura's mother-in-law. Thanks again Barb, for sharing!

What's in Your Root Cellar?

2010-12-08T15:06:00.000-08:00

As winter begins to close in here in upstate New York, I'm thinking of the many root cellars I still see in Ukraine. Root cellars are pretty much gone from here, as we can buy out-of-season food year-round, or if still a preserver, might use the big chest freezer out in the garage. But root cellars are still the norm in most Ukrainian villages and filled with far more than root vegetables. In May, the supplies in root cellars were dwindling down--but there were potatoes, onions, and shelves of pickled and canned vegetables, remnants of the previous summer.

And as we sat down to eat, my hostess dashed out to the root cellar to retrieve the soup she was chilling there. It was a perfect temperature, and kept that way, of course, in the most environmentally thoughtful way possible, in a space that stays about the same temperature year-round, underneath the ground. Even the New York Times, in a 2008 article, heralded the return of the root cellar, "food storage as grandma knew it."

We're continually struck by the resourceful of Ukrainians and how much we can learn about growing, storing, and of course eating food--and the root cellars serve as physical examples upon the village landscape of this. A typical root cellar has shelves for canned goods, separate floor bins for potatoes, carrots and other root vegetables,and meat hooks for hanging meat. In autumn, the shelves are filled with tomato sauce, pickles, compote and more to sustain through the non-growing seasons of the year.

The interiors of the root cellars shown are are all from a village, as is the blue exterior. I saw many of these slant-roof, above-the-ground entrance root cellars in common use. The other two root cellars are historic buildings from Pyrohiv, the National Museum of Folk Architecture and Life, outside Kyiv.

the Lovely Latke, the Delicious Deruny

2010-12-01T18:34:00.000-08:00

On this, the first night of Chanukah, we find occasion to relish in the comfort of the latke, deruny (деруни) in Ukrainian, a potato pancake and staple of the Jewish festival.

Like other marvelous foods of Chanukah, including one of my personal favorites, the wonderful filled doughnut, pampooshke (пампушки), latekes/deruny are fried in hot oil. The essence of the holiday, the oil represents the purification of the holy Temple of Jerusalem in the 2nd century BC/BCE. As the ancient story goes, the Maccabees, fresh from battle, could only gather a small volume of oil, just enough to light the menorah on the rededicated alter, for one night. Yet, by great miracle, the oil lasted, providing for eight consecutive evenings of light.

Latkes/deruny are typically made of potatoes, which are grated, often along with onion, thickened with flour and egg and fried (sometimes, delightfully, in chicken or goose schmaltz!) until crispy. The golden beauties are typically served with sour cream (сметана). Interestingly, I read in Joan Nathan's Jewish Cooking in America (1994), that before the arrival of potatoes to eastern Europe (which was quite a long while ago, indeed), latkes were made of buckwheat kasha (kaшa)!

For a more (or perhaps less) traditional Latke/Deruny, try this recipe:

5 or 6 good-sized potatoes, grated

1 onion, grated

1/4 to 1/2 cup green onions, chives or dill

2 eggs

1/3 cup matzo meal (wheat flour would do too)

Salt and Pepper

Vegetable Oil/Schmaltz

(Note: All of the quantities vary according to personal taste and preference)

First step, generously flood the bottom of a wide, heavy and deep skillet (preferably) or large pot with fat or oil. You want enough to adequately “float” the latkes. And, remember, the pancakes will absorb oil as they fry and you always need a tad more than you think. Then, heat the oil, over medium/high heat. It will take a few minutes and seem perhaps a bit too hot at first, but that is fine because the latkes will reduce the oil’s temperature when you drop them in.) Next, grate the potatoes and onion, then, try to squeeze out all of the additional moisture, using a towel. This will ensure a crispy latke. Then, mix in the eggs, flour, herbs and season with salt and pepper. Form into small patties, using a good 2 or 3 tablespoons of batter, flattening them to desired thinness (I desire a thin latke, myself). Finally, the frying! Carefully, carefully, lower the cakes into the hot oil, smashing them down a bit with a spatula. Monitor the latkes closely, make sure they do not stick to the bottom of the skillet. Once the sides turn golden, flip them and brown the other side. Pull them and drain on a towel/paper towel, while you cook the remaining latkes. Serve with sour cream and enjoy!

Recipe adapted from Joan Nathan's Classic Latkes, drawing on personal potato pancake practicum, observation in the western Ukrainian kitchen of expert deruny maker Halya Stryamets and consultation with several other friends. Photo taken by Linda Norris.