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Vol 1 No 1 August 2001 Entire Site Copyrighted 2001 Spiral Sea Enterprises |
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| . | .Page 4........................................................ Return to Page 1- - Return to Page 2 - - Return to Page 3 - - To 10 Days in August Page 1 | . | ||||||
| Shirley Timashev, foreign correspondent | . | |||||||
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... Last Meal -- and a Birthday ...
Courtesy Vitalia |
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Mushrooming
This may be the last letter you get from me... Because the next meal I eat may be my last! You see, I am going to eat some mushrooms we gathered in the forest yesterday. Alas, Slava is not here--he conveniently left this morning on a business trip--so, if the mushrooms are bad, at least one of us will still be around to relay the sad news...! This is a good time of year for gathering mushrooms. The woodlands above Yekaterinburg are nourished by snowmelt streams from the higher realms, the forest floors rich in humus, the August sunlight just warm enough to trigger the growth of the fungi fruiting bodies.You just gotta know what you're picking! Unfortunately, I don't. So I rely on Slava's local knowledge. We picked three recognizable varieties but left a fourth very common type alone. Slava said it was poisonous. To give our harvest a safety check, we hauled our basket of mushrooms over to neighbors near our country dacha. Slava confided to them that it was my very first outing for mushroom picking. Most Russian women have this experience as pre-schoolers, followed by a youth of continuing education by their families and friends. The neighbor women undertook my accelerated education, carefully examining our haul. They approved all but two samples, which I had slipped into the basket knowing they were poisonous--my safety check of our safety check. Aside from advice on recognizing appropriate species to eat, our neighbors also gave instruction on preparation, preservation, and of course cooking. The caps must be separated from the stems, and the caps immediately cooked. The long, fleshy stems should be slivered and left in full sun to dry quickly. I found that, within hours, the field mushrooms began to decay. According to my American cookbook by Rombauer, "mushrooms that have started to decay can harbor ptomaines and other toxins." So even good mushrooms can become poisonous! |
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A woodlands scene in the hills of the Urals near Yekaterinburg.
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While on the subject of food, let me tell you about my birthday party last Friday. It was, in my opinion, very Russian. In the opinion of my Russian guests, it was very American. I'll try to explain. Russian style entertaining calls for a table set with lots of cold dishes and many kinds of drink. You eat and drink for several hours, then when you are quite full, you are served the main course. Dessert follows. Instead of having a lot of different dishes, I focussed more on presentation. Cucumbers were crinkle cut; tomatoes were sliced tulip shaped. There was also standard cole slaw, some home-made pickles (provided by Yulia), and some marinated mushrooms (prepared by our handiman Misha). I had roasted several cloves of garlic, and although Russians are garlic lovers, my guests were puzzled by the unfamiliar taste of it. The fish dish was more acceptable to their taste: cold salmon with mayonnaise topping. The cold meat dish was a Russian favorite, boiled tongue, served with horseradish and sprigs of cilantro. Accompanying the first setting was fresh Armenian lavash, a bread that Russians hold in high esteem. We had seven guests--Dima and Yulia Timashev, plus little Nikita, and four people from Slava's office who are especially important to him and always very helpful to me. These include his deputy director, Ludmila, his secretary, Natalia, and his chief technical assistant, Inna. The other guest was Efeem, a young man who works part-time for Slava coordinating the Pursuit of Excellence Programs (such as the one which was the reason for our trip to Seattle this summer). All of the men came bearing flowers. Efeem brought three long-stemmed pink roses; Dima had five dark red ones. Nikita gave me a small bouquet of seven multi-colored tea roses. Slava brought an armful of gladioli. And the only vase I had was one to fit Nikita's small bouquet! After a desperate hunt we got out a bucket to hold the rest of flowers. I could see the womenfolk shaking their heads and deciding that I am in severe need of an assortment of vases. Flowers are a huge extravagance in Russia, yet they are a common one. And a woman is supposed to be prepared! The people from the office had gotten together to give Slava and me a joint birthday gift (his birthday having transpired while we were away). They gave us a highly functional piece of furniture, a chest-high cabinet for the hallway to hold toufla, botinki, sapogi and tapochki (shoes, boots, and household slippers of the kind you give to guests wgeb they take off their own shoes in the hallway). From Dima and Yulia we received a lithograph of a still life to brighten up the kitchen. At a Russian party, most of the toasting and drinking is done with the first table setting. I was wished a long and happy life by our guests, who raised high glasses of champagne, wine, or apple juice (no one touched the vodka). One of the most interesting of the traditional toasts went like this: "May your mother have good health and may that be a source of happiness for you." When everyone seemed to have sated their apetites, it was time to bring out the main course. I had prepared a chicken stir-fry and parsleyed rice ring. My guests thought that I had prepared a Chinese dish, although a main ingredient in the recipe of my own invention was Korean kimchee. Somebody jokingly asked for chopsticks; I was able to oblige with sets for all. Only one person had ever used chopsticks before, but they all industriously practiced picking up grains of rice. Every birthday party ends with a birthday cake. Russians usually buy a "torte," because making a cake from scratch isn't easy if you don't have baking powder (I bring it from the U.S.). Since confectioner's sugar is also not available, I made an Italian meringue / boiled sugar icing. Well, the party ended happily, with a very off-key rendition of "Happy Birthday To You," sung in English by people who had never heard the tune before, and somehow it sounded just fine. All's well that ends well... Shirley Dosvedanya for now. On to 10 Days in August, 1991 |
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