Kitchen Talk

Sofia's Kitchen, Verkhovyna, Carpathian Mountains

I have heard native-born Ukrainians refer to the language spoken by members of the Ukrainian diaspora, living in the US and Canada as “kitchen Ukrainian,” a not-quite contemporary Ukrainian, often with English or other influences. It is also meant to reflect the fact that many first and second generation Ukrainian Americans and Canadians learned Ukrainian from their mother or grandmothers, usually while they helped with cooking. Indeed, several friends with Ukrainian roots that grew up in the US and Canada have shared these kinds of insights. 

The Beekeeper's kitchen, Donbass Oblast

Social scientists actually use the term “diaspora language” to describe the dialects or variations of languages spoken in places of migration. These languages evolve, as all languages do, absorbing new influences and changes to their community. In the context of rapid change in Ukraine, as well as long absences from the country, language and food practices seem to be the most tangible connection to this culture for people with Ukrainian roots living in other parts of the world.

Svitlana, in her Kyiv kitchen

Through the Pickle Project, we too have learned a kind of kitchen language, Ukrainian, Russian and Crimean Tatar, spending time, mostly with women, talking about food. Standing over stoves, hunched over plants in the garden: Як ви сказали? How do you say it? 

Lenura's kitchen in Ak-Meshet, Crimea

Maybe it is because that is where Mama is, or, where the food is, or, where the work is.. Everyone is always hanging out in the kitchen. Included here are photos of some kitchens that we have been lucky enough to spend time in.

The 1970's kitchen, Pyrohiv National Museum of Folk Architecture

Of course, nothing foments fervent debate or connections to identity and culture quite like language in Ukraine. So, please consider this an open invitation to share your own thoughts, stories and experiences about the intersection of food practice, cultural preservation and food. 

Historic Photo, Ukrainian Market

Greek Life

Last summer, the Pickle Project on Parade (as we endeavored to call it) visited the fascinating Mariupol Region of southeastern Ukraine. Our travels to this region were inspired by an interest in learning more about the Greek communities there and sharing their stories with Pickle Project readers. This post is the first in a series about the people, culture and cuisine of Greek Mariupol. Special thanks to Galina, Carina, Anna, Lubov and Tatiana for all of your ideas, enthusiasm and support in Mariupol.

Maripoul Oblast is home to largest Greek-Ukrainian population in the country. Lubov, an ethnographer at the Donetsk Regional Museum, explained that there has long been a strong Greek influence in the Mariupol region, as Greek sailors and traders made their way from the Sea of Azoz, across the southern steppes. Greek settlements in the region were expanded in the 1780’s as Katherine the Great sought to consolidate her rule in the Black Sea region, especially Crimea. At the time, Greeks were the primary labor force in Crimea, Lubov explained. In an effort to weaken rising powers of the Crimean Khanate on the Peninsula, Katherine’s forces pushed the Greek population, along with large groups of Crimean Tatars, into the territories of Mariupol. This was one component of Katherine’s larger “planned colonization” strategy undertaken across Ukraine.

Greek villages are scattered across the region but Saratana and Starry Krim (Old Crimea) are two of the most prominent. Greek cultural traditions and practices, including food preparation, remain strong in the region. We also learned that there are efforts underway to preserve the Greek language spoken in the villages of Mariupol, a dialect called Rumaiica.

We had the distinct pleasure of sitting down with Tatiana Bohadetsa, director of the Museum of Greek History and Ethnography in Sartana to sample some Greek-Ukrainian specialties. To our great indulgence, Tatiana is not only an expert of local Greek history and culture, she is also the author of a cookbook featuring Greek specialties of the region.

Included in this feast were the delightfully named smoosh (шмуш), puffy pastries filled with spiced meats or fish and potatoes. My favorite were crispy fried triangles stuffed with pumpkin and sauteed onions.

For Tatiana, these dishes are central to helping keep the connection to her Greek heritage alive. She also noted that food is an easy access point for people. It tastes good, helps them remember and helps them learn. We couldn’t agree more.

Top to bottom:
Mural at the museum in Saratana
Cookbook
Smoosh

Shopper's Delight

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.

A Harvest of Photos

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!

Now, We Raise a Glass...

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

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.