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.

Blue Beauty

I have long wished to write a post about poppy seeds because they are fabulously under appreciated and prominently featured in a good many Ukrainian dishes. And, what do you know, thumbing through newly arrived April issue of the American food magazine Saveur, I found a charming article about these blue-black beauties. I felt scooped, of course, but it rekindled my interest in proffering poppy observations.

The perfumey tasting seed of the flowering plant Papver somniferum, poppy seeds (mak) are tiny and actually kidney shaped. They also have high fat content and are a rich source of calcium and manganese. I learned from Gabriella Gershenson’s Saveur article that poppy seeds are ancient and have been cultivated since the Neolithic era in Europe (around 1,000 years BCE). White poppy seeds are common in Asian cuisines and played a fascinating role in the British colonization of Bengali India. The indigo hued variety is more common in western, European dishes.

Often paired with honey, poppy seeds are widely used in Ukrainian fare. Poppy-laced cakes, doughnuts and swirly rolls are everyday treats. According to Culinaria, edited by Marion Trutter, Nicolai Gogol was rather fond of honeyed poppy seed cake, apparently calling it a “paradisaical dish.” Poppy seeds are also stuffed into a sweet vareneky (Ukrainian dumpling) or serve as the base for sweet sauces. Poppy is also the star of kutya (кутя), one of 12 traditional dishes served at Christmas time. Kutia is a kind of wheat porridge, lavender with poppy and sweetened with honey, that is topped with chopped walnuts and dried fruits. The dishes sweetness, I am told, mirrors the sweetness of Christ. And, boy is sweet!

Of course, poppies are also the source of that ancient, Lethean substance opium, which is made from the air drying of the milky, white latex of unripe poppy seed pods. I have heard rumors about poppy cultivation being illegal in Ukraine. A friend even told me a story about a babushka in village in L’viv Oblast that was arrested for nurturing poppies in her kitchen garden. (Pray tell, dear Pickle Project readers, if you know about the legality of poppy cultivation in Ukraine). (Incidentally, through my meticulous web research, I also learned that, indeed, eating large quantities of poppy seeds will contribute to a false positive in drug testing, as was confirmed on an episode of the show MythBusters.)

For more interesting poppy reading, check out Gabriella Gershenson’s Saveur article Flower Power, a range of articles about the interesting poppy research happening at the University of Calgary and tips on poppy seed cultivation at the Washington State University.

Chatting and Chewing in Kyiv

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.

Borscht by Heart, Aleksander Hemon's New Yorker Article

This week’s New Yorker (November 22, 2010) is the food issue and, among other wonderful food essays, contains an affecting article by Bosnian-American writer Aleksander Hemon, author of the acclaimed novels “the Lazarus Project” and “Nowhere Man.” Hemon tells the story of borscht in his family, carried from Galicia (now, in Western Ukraine), to Bosnia, the recipe an unwritten poem, repeated by heart in diverse but perfected recitation. Drawing on the bounty and miscellany of the kitchen garden, the soup is simple sustenance, spooned into mismatched bowls, in accordance with classic Ukrainian convention, one chuck of meat each. Hemon’s borscht is a meal of family and survival. For me too, even in modern, changing Ukraine, I have come to understand that straightforward, claret soup as both a solace and artifact of Ukrainian endurance.

What does borscht mean for you? As always, we would love to hear from you!

Other Pickle Project-relevant compositions in the Food Issue, including an amusing essay outlining the steps to sauerkraut by David Bezmozgis (Pickling Cabbage) and a profile of fermentation prophet Sandor Katz, author of the cult classic “Wild Fermentation,” (Nature’s Spoils), along with other articles of lesser Pickle pertinence, including a treatise on root vegetables and an essay by Laura Shapiro on Eleanor Roosevelt's Thanksgiving frugality.

For an abstract of Hemon’s New Yorker article, visit http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2010/11/22/101122fa_fact_hemon and notice that full access is granted with a trial of the digital subscription. New Yorker cover image by Wayne Thiebaud.