One Night in Ukraine

In class on Friday, I decided that I had spent enough time inside the dorm. It was time for a group activity, and I was going to participate. Sometime enough’s enough and staying inside one more night would have put me over the edge. Although I still wasn’t feeling back to my normal self, I knew making the effort to get ready and actively pursue a goal would be stimulating. Every now and then if you fake it, it might come true. I told myself I was going to be healthy, so for that night I was.
After my weeklong experimentation in polar isolation, I would have been happy to go to McDonalds for dinner (which we have done twice already by the way). However, when I made my declaration of adventure in class, Max suggested a Ukrainian restaurant a few metro stops away. He had sound reasoning for his selection that immediately swayed us…“It’s good”.
Boy, he wasn’t kidding either. I didn’t bring my camera, and I wish I had because this restaurant was exquisitely charming. The exterior resembled a traditional Ukrainian home (apparently gingerbread houses are very popular there) with window boxes, wooden arches and white walls. The interior was quaint and cozy- very much like walking into a family’s mountain home. The ceiling was exposed wood, as were the walls. The décor looked as though someone had taken it from a grandmother’s house- dark woods, vibrantly colored cushions, pictures of ordinary people on the walls and ornate tapestries covering parts of the walls.
Because Max had called ahead for seating, we had our own room. I couldn’t have asked for a better setting. The room was small, maybe half the size of a freshmen dorm room. There was a large bench attached to one wall, making up one side of the table’s seating with chairs comprising the other part. It added to the comfort and intimacy of the space. I mean, with 11 of us it’s going to be pretty intimate regardless, but here I felt like we were a family. The waitresses were dressed in traditional Ukrainian dress, which includes an intricate flower headdress. Shelli and I (the 2 waitresses of the group) were both amazed that they didn’t knock them off their heads during the service. Had it been me, someone would have had flowers in his/her borscht.
When I asked Max what was good here, a simple “everything” assured me that I was about to have a good meal. Ukrainian food is very hearty and homey. It’s simple, and savory. The waitresses brought out bread with a spread in many small pots. It wasn’t until after our first piece that Nadia informed us that the delicious, scrumptious spread we were consuming was pure pig fat. In shock, I replied “I’m sorry, did someone send me back to South Carolina? I just ate straight fatback?” Oh well, when in Moscow do as the Ukrainians do…? Another traditional (and surprising) addition to our meal was a drink made of vodka, honey and horseradish. The first two ingredients sound delectable, however it’s the third that threw me for a loop. Despite all reservations, the drink was tasty (not without an intense kick, mind you) and when chased with a bite of a pickle, I can understand its appeal.
As my appetite had diminished over the week, I was already filling up from two slices of pumpernickel so I decided to get a small portion of mushroom dumplings. It was heaven. The mushrooms were tender and had to have been cooked in a sherry of sorts because the flavor was perfect- sweet but savory. The dumplings themselves were well made and surprisingly light. On top were sautéed mushrooms and a dollop of sour cream (it’s everywhere in Russia). When (yes “when”, not “if”) we return, I’ll have to get the largest portion because they could have been the best things I’ve eaten here in Russia.
I couldn’t have asked for a better night with better food and better company. The dynamics of our group are so strong it’s amazing we all have known each other less than a month. Sitting around the table, eating practically homemade food, I realized the importance of good friends and good family. Without either, the experience of the night would have been wasted. It takes great conversations from good friends to turn an isolating room in a Ukrainian restaurant into a family dinner table. And it takes the knowledge gained from having a good family to realize how precious it is to find such comfort and love in others. I’d say it was a pretty great night.