Sunflowers, Illuminated

Everything is Illuminated, sourced http://hotpotofcoffee.tumblr.com

By now, via screen or page, it seems everyone has taken in the vast, almost magical fields of sunflowers in Jonathon Safran Foer’s Everything is Illuminated. Love or loathe Everything is Illuminated (not to cop out but I find myself squarely on the middle ground, except where Eugene Lutz is concerned.), it set an imagination of the Ukrainian countryside as a sunny, golden sea. 

I must admit, there is something sort of dreamy or wistful about sunflowers, their vibrant yellow color, the way they are said to lift their heavy heads together, following the sun across the sky. (This tracking of the sun is called heliotropism but there appears to be lack of consensus as to whether sunflowers are true heliotrophs or maybe only in early life stages. As a child of the American Midwest, I swear that I have witnessed this. Any sunflower scientists out there that can clarify?) 

From train window, central Ukraine, photo courtesy of pickle pal Linda Knudsen McAusland

In the genus Helianthus (sound familiar?) with sunchokes, sunflowers originate in the Americas but were brought to Europe by those intrepid Spaniards in the 16^th Century.  According to Cullinaria, edited by Marion Trutter (2006), sunflowers came to the Dnieper Valley with Peter the Great, after a trip to Western Europe in the mid 1500s. Peter, who was something of a sunflower aficionado, was fond of their bright colors but they soon emerged as an important food source. 

Sunflowers, соняшник in Ukrainian, are grown for seeds, which are pressed for oil or cracked and roasted as a food stuff for people and animals, particularly poultry. Referencing my trusty Encyclopedia of Organic Gardening (Rodale, 1971), I learned that sunflowers are highly nutritious, very rich in protein, calcium, phosphorus, thiamin, riboflavin and niacin and are an important source of linoleic acid (good for hair and skin, by the way). Sunflower oil is generally cold pressed, which helps to retain the oils nutrients and vitamins.  In my experience, sunflower oil is the oil of choice among Ukrainian cooks. It complements fresh veggies, as well as meats. 

From train window, central Ukraine, photo courtesy of pickle pal Linda Knudsen McAusland

Oil production began in Ukraine around 1835 and that the Kherson and Zaporhiza regions were critical to fat supplies during the Second World War and in the Soviet Area. Overtime, sunflower oil production has remained an important economic resource in Ukraine, though the industry has struggled to keep pace with crop resistance and industry standards. All that said, according to this recent post from PR Newswire, Ukraine now produces a quarter of world’s sunflower oil, comprising 51% of the global export market for the commodity. Interestingly, India is the top consumer of Ukraine’s sunflower oil. A 15% decline in production is anticipated for Ukraine’s sunflower oil production over the next year, based on adverse weather projections.

Sunflower seeds at Odessa's Central Market, photo by Linda

Whole sunflower seeds are a very popular Ukrainian snack and are found studding breads and sweets. Markets stalls feature a dizzying array of varieties and preparations. On street corners, kerchiefed grannies sell sunflower seeds for birds.

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

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.

Odessa is Odessa!

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

And sure enough, just like our Kyiv and Donetsk conversations 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 home to dozens, if not hundreds, of different ethnicities and nationalities.  (For a great look at Odessa’s colorful history,  read Odessa: Genius and Death in a City of Dreams by Charles King).

Hanna Shelest, head of the NGO PIC, our Odessan partner, had a particular interest in working with us to engage the different cultural groups 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 was held 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 Bulgarians hung along the stairway,  but our conversation proved anything but somber.  

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

A German woman remembered her grandmother’s streusel cake,  while an Indian recalled his confusing arrival in Odessa as a teenager, when it was very hard to be a vegetarian in the city. But when a girlfriend made him stuffed peppers, he knew he could make a life here—and that he should marry her! One of the loveliest memories 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 are the same foods that many Jewish Americans associate with their own family traditions—a fish like gefilte fish;  chopped liver, and more.  And the new foods also came into play, particularly as groups intermarried, 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 to do something different, to share our thoughts, ideas, beliefs and hopes by talking 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 were doing this all wrong, that it was not scientific!  As he explained exactly why it wasn’t scientific, I looked at the faces around me, who previously had been actively listening, laughing and sharing family stories—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 was surprising—and a bit thrilling-- to watch these participants realize that they, not the ethnographer, were the “experts.”  That their stories, their perspectives, their beliefs, were the 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 the stuffed peppers made by a girl in love,  Odessa’s conversation will always remind me of the powerful connections food can make, no matter where we're from.

Market Report, Odessa, October 2011

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?)

A Round of Thanks!

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!

Market Report: Odessa, July 2011

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!