Eating Moscow: Maslenitsa

Smetana. Caviar. Blini.

 We were there just at the right time. Almost. I flew out of Moscow just as Maslenitsa was beginning. Butter festival or Pancake Festival, Russia's version of a Fat Tuesday - the chance for Orthodox Christians to get their dairy in before you have to give it all up for 40 days of lent culminating in the celebration of Easter when they are allowed to get their dairy, meat, alcohol and booty calls on once again.

Chefs like Elmar Basziszta at the Baltschug Kempinski were gearing up for Maslenitsa with "Blini Menus", traditional blini recipes like blinis served with caviar and smetana, an ultra-thick and luxurious kind of sour cream or quark, and more creative variations like buckwheat blini with pan-friend scallops, baked beetroot and truffle vinaigrette, beef consummé with pancake julienne, lamb loin wrapped in garlic-rosemary blinis on grilled bell peppers, blinis rolled with smoked salmon, cream cheese and spinach or topped with forest mushroom ragout.

Basziszta claims that most Russians prefer to stick to the classics. They like traditional dishes served in traditional style, he insists. But the Kempinski caters to an international crowd and the chef reveled in the opportunity to experiment.

For those who didn't make it to the Kempinski due to prior commitments or constrained budgets, there were other ways to get a pancake fix that were less abusive on the pocketbook. Teremok, the popular fast food-style chain and blini specialist also expanded its menu to include a variety of classic and holiday blinis to go. We may have missed the blini stands set up around the Kremlin the following week, but thanks to Chef Basziszta and Teremok, we definitely got our fill of Maslenitsa in Moscow.

Eating Moscow: Café Pushkin

Where to start, where to start? With a classic perhaps to put things into context. Not only was the iconic, must-at-least-drink-a-coffee-there Café Pushkin architecturally striking, it was somehow able to be cozy despite the slight air of pomposity. It's the kind of place my grandmother might have taken me to as a kid, where I would sit fidgeting, scolded for using the wrong utensil. At the same time, in the late afternoon sunlight, after shedding 45 layers of wool and fleece, it was welcoming, comforting. The downstairs was informal, whereas upstairs one might feel underdressed without a jacket and tie. But the atmosphere, inviting as it was, is not what would keep me coming back. That, would be the food.

The wild mushroom pelmeni ruined me. I don't think I will ever order pelmeni again because none that I will ever eat will be as good as the mushroom pelmeni at Pushkin. 

The mushroom julienne, (I was in a mushroom mood, perhaps still reeling from the meat jello the night before, but that's another story) was served in an adorable edible cracker pot - I bit into the lid to see if it was edible. It is - but I would advise against it, I think I cracked my tooth.

The story of this place is equally charming. Back in the 80s, Russian Andrei Delos was a student studying architecture in Paris. After the fall of the Soviet Union he went back to Moscow, intending to stay for a short visit. Bureaucracy extended his stay indefinitely and soon Delos, fluent in French, was giving city tours to French tourists. 

The French tourists all seem to have one request: Can you take us to Café Pushkin? They had heard about the café in a popular French song about a Russian tour guide who falls in love with a French tourist and in the song he takes her to "Café Pushkin". Thing was, there was no such thing as Café Pushkin. It did not exist. But after being repeatedly asked about the famous non-existent café, Delos had an idea. The architecture student invested his savings in building from the ground up a café that was designed to look like it may have been Pushkin's house. Decorated in period style, he overlooked no detail. Café Pushkin quickly attracted not only the French, but the Moscovite glitterati in droves. To get in today, you need to push past the hordes of SUVs parked outside, drivers waiting with motors running. The establishment has become an institution and it's established Delos as one of the major players in the Moscow restaurant and club scene.

His latest creation Turandot, has been all over the press lately. Again the design was overseen by Delos' and his keen architect's eye for detail. Built in a "French Chinese" style, the place is opulent, beautiful yet on the verge of becoming gaudy. When we visited, a group of eight adults sat at a table while their children, the girls in white islet dresses with satin sashes (and snowflakes that stay..), ran up and down the stairs and around the dining room as though they were at a picnic in the park. It reminded me of a scene from the Nutcracker, some how so bourgeois Russian - like a dream sequence.  

Café Pushkin is open 24 hours - which surprised me - you wouldn't peg it as a 24 hour kinda joint. Apparently around 4-5 am it fills with SUV-chauffeured 20-somethings who are wrapping up a night of clubbing.

For the food, the atmosphere, the people-watching, when in Moscow save your pennies (which you will have had to do to even breath the air in Moscow) and take them to Pushkin. 

Red February

February. The last full month of winter. The last of your already spent patience with the cold, ice, multiple layers, dry skin, frozen toes. And one of the last places you'd probably think to go during this month is Moscow. And yet...

here we are.

Not realizing that I should have said, "Um, let's wait til July!" when my friend Julie called and asked what I thought about a little trip to Moscow during the last week of February, I instead replied by checking ticket prices and googling Russian visa application procedures. And while the next time she calls with a similar proposal, I will most definitely say, "Let's wait til July!", I am glad I got to see Moscow in its fully frozen, minus 18 degree glory. I should come clean and admit that it was minus 18 on the Celsius scale - which I later learned is only about -1 Fahrenheit. As a Green Bay native, -1 Fahrenheit was a typical, if not practically unseasonably warm day in any given January or February. But while I was in Moscow, I wrote emails to family and friends, with the subject heading: "18 F*CKING DEGREES BELOW ZERO!!!!" And it sounds so much more dramatic, more respectable than "ONE F+CKING BELOW!!!", right? But really, once you get below zero, it's just cold period. 

Me and my two wool sweaters, long underwear, three long sleeve t-shirts, snow boots, wool coat, and fleece hat outside the Bolshoi

To warm up, we were forced to duck into a number of local establishments like

supermarkets, 

pastry closets, 

cafés, 

 

bath houses, 

subways,

theaters,

and living rooms 

seeking reprieve from the cold. And while we warmed up, we stocked up. On pelmeni, chocolates, massages, Soviet nostalgia, khajapuri, blini, opera, fur and matrioshkas. For all of the heavy comfort food, the steaming hot saunas, and a certain camaraderie that comes from frozen masses huddled together, maybe February was the best time to visit after all. 

More on all of these places and the things we stocked up on ... next.

Sniff's Grantourismo Top Ten Travel Tales

Atop Petra

In random order...

Spending the day with Pol Pot's former Head of State, Khieu Samphan and his family at his home outside of Pailin, Cambodia, a stones throw from the Thai border. Khieu is currently sitting before the International Tribunal pleading not guilty for his role in the deaths of 1.7 million Cambodians during the Khmer Rouge regime. During our lunch at his house, he completed denied any responsibility for the events and claimed ignorance.

After an incredible day at Petra, Jordan, we climbed atop the old court building at closing time with my friend Anees and his Bedoin friend who grew up in Petra. We had the park all to ourselves as we made tea and watched the sunset – 300 meters up. Then scrambled down in the dark after the police called to say they found our car in the middle of no where and wanted us to come into the station. Sobering, ahem.

Sharing my first khinkali dumplings with Stalin’s great grandson in Tbilisi, Georgia.

Breaking fast with the men who shovel the coal that warms the bath water in a little cave adjacent to the hamam during Ramadan in Fez, Morocco. We ate stuffed dates while they showed us the hole in the wall where they spied on the naked ladies in the bath.

My three-day overland trip from Dakhla, Morocco via 50 car military convoy through the Western Sahara territory into Mauritania. We then continued from Nouadibou to Nouakchott – it too us four days to drive 400 km through dramatic sand dunes in a Mercedes van, pulling the plaques out, stuffing them under the wheels and jumping back in the van as it was moving, Little Miss Sunshine style.

Getting caught in a rainstorm while sleeping on a rooftop in a small village in Dogon country, Mali. As we climbed down from the roof I burst into a rousing rendition of "Singing in the Rain" which turned into a medley of my favorites from "My Fair Lady", "Oliver" and "Sound of Music". The owners of the roof wanted to reciprocate so they cajoled the children into singing a traditional Malian song for us. They were fantastic and we gave them a thunderous round of applause.

My first trip abroad at 16, a month-long exchange in northern Italy. I fell in love with the food, the culture, the people... and Massimiliano.

My first summer in Cesky Krumlov, Czech Republic where my friend Vasek took us floating down the Vltava on inner tubes. We got out every five minutes or so, pulling over at a local bar to grab a Pilsner, a shot of Slivovitz and some head cheese. Then continuing the float, a lazy day around a gorgeous castle and lots of fire wire.

Standing on the rooftop of an old haveli in downtown Lahore, Pakistan during Basant, the annual kite festival, watching the kites dip and dance and fight. Cheering the winners who remained in the sky and sympathizing with the losers whose kites were cut and plummeting.

Driving around the Blue/Hazrat Ali Mosque in Mazar-e-Sharif, Afghanistan on Nowroz (New Years) only to find ourselves suddenly surrounded by a jubilant mob, singing and dancing and playing drums on the hood of our car. We were in standstill traffic, with euphoric revelers ten people thick surrounding us. There was a sudden moment of panic realizing that if this mob suddenly got out of hand, we could be in serious danger. But when we looked at the buzzing mob, we realized there was nothing but good will and good energy. And we were part of it.

This post has been entered into the Grantourismo-HomeAway UK travel writing competition for February. What are you favorite travel memories?

Charcutepalooza: Makin' Bacon

In an alternate universe there is a better me. I exercise every day, I have hair people envy, I keep bees, diligently tend a thriving garden, make my own soap and pluck fresh warm eggs from the heirloom chickens running around my backyard—all while working on the cure for breast cancer. (In yet another alternate universe lives a fantastically naughty me, who smuggles diamonds, lives a life of international intrigue and dances with pirates, but that is another story.)

When I read about Charcutepalooza, Mrs. Wheelbarrow and the Yummy Mummy’s challenge to support their proclaimed Year of Meat, I saw it as a chance to tango with the better me. Each month they will set forth a charcuterie making challenge. January was duck prosciutto. (Participants are allowed to complete this challenge at any point during the year, given the sneak-up-on-you nature of January.) February is bacon!

A few blocks from my house, huge hogs hang on meat hooks, swaying in the open air, visible from the street. I know this sight isn’t for everyone, but for me it is a beautiful thing. The Boivar Carnicería has been open since 1970 and serves the Santa Tere neighborhood—an old working class area of Guadalajara, lined with low colonial homes, filled with multigenerational families. They receive and butcher 20-30 pigs a day. At 3 pm, they close and go home for a large family meal and a well deserved siesta.

None of the butchers batted an eye when I asked for a slab of pork belly from which to make bacon. I guess I was sort of expecting awe and admiration for taking on such a cool meat-a-licious task, but the butchers were helpful and duly unimpressed. And now I understand why, making bacon is very simple. It is nothing like raising bees or curing breast cancer, it is much more like a week at the spa: a salt exfoliation, followed by a soak in the sea, a rinse and a steam.

Making Bacon
Adapted from the required reading and textbook of Charcutapalooza: Charcuterie by, Michael Ruhlman.

Salt Exfoliation- Mix 60 gr. of kosher salt, 2 teaspoons of curing salt, 30 gr of brown sugar, ¼ cup fresh chopped rosemary, 1/4 cup crushed black peppercorn and 4 crushed bay leaves. Channel your inner masochist and rub your 3-5 pounds of pork belly like a Turkish bath masseuse trying to remove all of your skin. Leave an even coat of salt on all sides.

The Soak- Place the belly in a zip-lock bag or in a non-reactive container just large enough to hold it. It will release a lot of liquid as it cures. Allow it to linger in the saline bath for seven days, gently turning it over every other day, while whispering sweet nothings.

Rinse and Steam- After seven days, it should feel hard to the touch, if not, allow the magical powers of salty bath to do its work for another day or two. Then, rinse in fresh water and put in the oven at 200F for two hours and roast until it reaches an internal temperature of 150F. And, Bravo! Your pork belly has been cured. It is now bacon!

 
To celebrate our bacon, we made a Mexican version of the BLT: roasted tomatillos, zesty watercress, avocado, thick cut house-made bacon and chipotle aioli spread on a roll. As an afterthought we added a fried egg with an oozy yolk. Immediately after consumption of this near perfect sandwich (and an unnecessary side-of-bacon), I had to lie down on the couch, nursing an upset stomach while running through the all-too-familiar lecture on over-indulgence and self-control. A better me indeed.

Vote for Naughtiness!

Photo by Sarah Shatz of Food52

My cheeky irreverence to January denial has been rewarded! (See post below.) It seems naughtiness is delicious! I entered my Not-Too-Virtuous-Salad with Caramelized Apple Vinaigrette in last week's Food52 contest, “Your Best Salad with Apples” and it has been chosen as a finalist! Amanda Hesser and Merrill Stubbs (two of my idols) and their test kitchen team picked my recipe, and one other, out of 150 very impressive entries. And, now it is up to YOU to choose a winner! Check out the slide show of the making of the recipe here.

If you haven’t visited the website Food52 yet, you most definitely should. It is a cookbook project- that you can help write. Each week they announce a recipe contest. Home cooks have a week to submit creative, tasty, original recipes. Two finalists are chosen, and then the voting goes to the public. (AhhUmmm... that's you.) The winner gets published in the cookbook! In the meantime, Food52 is a dynamic and creative web resource for original recipes by home cooks and food bloggers. It is hands-down the best answer to that ubiquitous question, “What should I make for dinner?”

So… what are you waiting for? Check it out and don’t forget to click on the tab in the upper right hand corner that says, “cast your vote” and VOTE!

A Not-Too-Virtuous Salad w/ Caramelized Apple Vinaigrette

Detox. Exercise. Diet. All virtuous proclamations the majority of us suckers ring in the New Year with. Renew. Rejuvenate. Revive. Blah. Blah. Blah. A new start. I am all for it, but I don’t think embarking on a slimmer, vegetarian You has any place, rhyme or reason in January.

For most, January is plastered in snow and ice, making a snuggle and duck for the down covers way more appealing than pounding the treadmill. Tank tops are still months away, osso bucco is tonight’s special and carbohydrate laden veggies are what our bodies crave. Few cleanses are inspired by a well stocked root cellar. It is the time to cure meat and hide the evidence of our wintery bacon indulgence underneath a cozy warm sweater. Save the cleanse and the 5am pre-work run for spring when your body, responding to the natural cycles of life, craves a rebirth. January is a socially created buzz-kill that demands we get off the Dionysus holiday wave of revelry and gluttonous indulgence. Booo! to whoever came up with that plan; I say it is unnatural to come out of hibernation so early. Thus, I proclaim all New Years’ resolutions should be postponed until March.

Still, if you demand a virtuous new You to kick off the new year (which will most likely be forgotten by March), here is a salad that should keep the guilt at bay (after all, it is a salad), but, will not to be such a shock to the system (it has pig product in it) that it will send you into a stupor of bitter resentment. Served with duck breast or a wedge of stinky cheese it will most definitely satisfy your resolution to treat yourself right in 2011!

 Not-Too-Virtuous Salad w/ Caramelized Apple Vinaigrette

For the salad:

• 4 handfuls mixed greens
• 1/4 celery root, cut into matchsticks
• 1 gala apple, sliced very thinly into half moons
• 1 fennel bulb, very thinly sliced
• 1 cup pecans
• 4 slices thick cut bacon, cut into lardons

1. Toast the pecans in the oven at 350 for about 7 min.
2. In a heavy skillet cook lardons over moderate heat. Stir occasionally until crispy on all sides and reserve on a paper towel.
3. Place all of the salad ingredients in a large bowl. Pour ¼ of the dressing over the salad and toss well.
4. Taste a piece of lettuce and add more dressing, salt and pepper-- depending on your preference.

Caramelized Apple Vinaigrette:

• 2 ounces brown sugar
• 3 ounces, plus 1 ounce apple cider vinegar
• 1 small clove garlic, minced
• 1 gala apple, peeled, cored and medium diced
• 1/2 lemon
• 4 ounces olive oil
• 2 ounces canola oil
• 1 1/2 teaspoon fresh thyme
• salt

1. In a small skillet over medium heat add 3 ounces vinegar and the sugar. Let it reduce until the color turns a dark caramel color and begins to thicken. You will start to see big foamy bubbles on the surface.
2. Add the apples and garlic and sauté until the apples are cooked through, about 5 minutes. Stir occasionally.
3. Remove from heat and put in the blender with 1 ounce of vinegar, thyme, juice of ½ lemon and a pinch of salt. Woosh until blended, then slowly add the oil. Blend until the dressing is emulsified. Taste and season with salt and perhaps a splash more vinegar, depending on your preference. The dressing can be made four hours ahead.