Weeks Five and Six

My Russian tutor hurriedly glances over the assortment of pots and pans that clutter the shelves underneath my kitchen counter, searching for the right-size pot for making soup. She reaches for a pot of the appropriate size and shakes her head as she begins cleaning with a sponge and baking soda the dirty lid on which dust has accumulated over the past weeks. Slowly, items that she has suggested for my apartment have begun appearing; she brings with her a shoe horn, baking soda, bouillon cubes, and an apron for me to wear during our tutoring sessions. Over the last two weeks, our lessons have become cullinary-based as she teaches me how to prepare traditional Ukrainian dishes while speaking only in Russian. My food preparation abilities now include: beet salad, stuffed peppers, “materzheniki” (fried dough), cabbage soup, eggplant ikra and fish head soup. While preparing the meal that constitutes the daily lesson, she has me write the recipe in my notebook and later repeat in grammatically correct Russian the steps involved in the particular meal preparation. These lessons are not only fun, but are practical in that I learn how to incorporate traditional ingredients into my cooking. In a way, she has taken me under her wing, showing me what she considers the “correct” way to clean my kitchen, use spices (dill and parsley are added to most dishes), and wash pans. One lesson included a trip to the local supermarket, Voruc, during which time she instructed me on what products I could buy and those that I am “forbidden” to purchase (this categorization is based on whether the food production companies are trustworthy).

On this trip to the supermarket, she suggested that I buy a fish from the tank (the fresher the better), the way most locals purchase fish. I asked for a small carp, and the woman behind the counter took a large net and scooped up a small fish from the crammed tank. She then placed the fish on the counter, hit its head, and, while it was still jerking slightly, cleaned its insides in the sink, and weighed it on the scale. Later that day, I unpacked the fish, venturing into the unfamiliar territory of fish preparation from a whole fish. As I severed the head (and packaged it in the fridge for later use for fish head soup during my next Russian lesson), I reflected on the ease with which I purchase fillets in the States, and the common experience here of cleaning and preparing the fish at home.

The next morning, my Russian tutor arrived with two aprons. Removing the fish head from the fridge, and placing it in a pot of boiling water, she began adding chopped onions and bouillon to a pot along with parsley and dill until the head had softened and the soup was ready. At this point the cooked fish head is taken from the soup and eaten separately on a plate. Unsure of how to go about eating a fish head, my Russian tutor laughed at my discomfort, took the head in her hands, and broke it apart so that the bones and meat were exposed. She instructed me to eat the meat and lick the bones, only to discard the skin, eyeballs, and mouth as she sat watching my attempts. The experience of eating a fish head (and almost eating an eyeball which I could hardly differentiate from the meat seeing that it was white and on my spoon), was something exotic, tasty and sickening all at the same time. I embraced the experience and decided to blog about it later as one example of cultural immersion through cookery. With my growing list of Ukrainian recipes, my tutor has suggested that I open a “home cooking” Ukrainian restaurant upon my return to the U.S. serving dishes like fish head soup, borscht and other local delicacies.

Learning to cook with ingredients I am unfamiliar with accompanies my overall social experience in Ukraine. At a Hillel opening event this past week which took place on a boat on the Dneipr River, I listened to the techno music and watched young students dancing along to Russian and Hebrew songs. As I was observing the city skyline from the deck, I heard “Rabbi Nachman M’Uman” play loudly from the speakers as Hillel students chanted along. This Chassidic chant is known by many of the students here, and this one song, techno in rhythm, is quite popular in Jewish youth life. Understanding the subtle intricacies of Jewish culture in Dnepropetrovsk and Ukraine is a very interesting process. As I talk to more people and begin to better comprehend life in Ukraine, I appreciate more and more my exposure to smoke machines and Chassidic techno, fish head soup and baking soda.

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~ by mirmood on October 11, 2009.