Jump to content
  • Welcome to the eG Forums, a service of the eGullet Society for Culinary Arts & Letters. The Society is a 501(c)3 not-for-profit organization dedicated to the advancement of the culinary arts. These advertising-free forums are provided free of charge through donations from Society members. Anyone may read the forums, but to post you must create a free account.

Edit History

liuzhou

liuzhou

On an aside, when I was in Moscow, I was for a while extremely popular!

 

Gorbachev had banned vodka in response to an alarming alcoholism problem. Every day people would be found dead from having overdone the vodka and collapsed on the way home only to freeze to death in Russia's harsh winter.

Of course, the elite (and me) could still get it from the so-called Friendship stores after brandishing suitable ID to the armed guards.

I used to feel so guilty. Some of the people I worked with would invite me to their homes for dinner. I knew how much trouble that caused them - queuing for hours for not very much at all, then having to cook nervously in case I didn't like it. Declining the invitation would have been inexcusably rude.

I remember one particular meal prepared by a lovely psychiatrist I met in Leningrad, a fascinating woman in her 60s with stories to tell. One day I may elaborate. Again, a tiny apartment with an extended family. Dinner was edible. At the end my friend, the psychiatrist disappeared into the kitchen and returned with an obviously very old, somewhat rusty, just opened can of pineapple rings from Cuba and carefully placed it in the centre of the table in triumph. I didn't know whether to weep or laugh. But then I just felt guilty.

This was obviously something they had been saving for the right occasion and had decided I was that occasion. We ate the pineapple. How could I refuse?

Then I pulled two bottles of vodka from my bag and handed them over. The pineapple was forgotten and I was (lightly) berated for not handing them over earlier so that they could be put outside on the window ledge to get as close to frozen as possible (I still keep vodka in the freezer). But I could still see the delight in their eyes. Despite not being optimum temperature, one bottle was consumed. Thereafter, I always took vodka to dinner invitations and presented it on arrival.

@chefmd will correct me if I misremember. In 1980s Moscow slang, or maybe just Russian slang, maybe still, a standard 750cl bottle of vodka was known as a troika (тройка) because it was just enough for three people to share.

liuzhou

liuzhou

On an aside, when I was in Moscow, I was for a while extremely popular!

 

Gorbachev had banned vodka in response to an alarming alcoholism problem. Every day people would be found dead from having overdone the vodka and collapsed on the way home only to freeze to death in Russia's harsh winter.

Of course, the elite (and me) could get it from the so-called Friendship stores after brandishing suitable ID to the armed guards.

I used to feel so guilty. Some of the people I worked with would invite me to their homes for dinner. I knew how much trouble that caused them - queuing for hours for not very much at all, then having to cook nervously in case I didn't like it.

I remember one particular meal prepared by a lovely psychiatrist I met in Leningrad, a fascinating woman in her 60s with stories to tell. One day I may elaborate. Again, a tiny apartment with an extended family. Dinner was edible. At the end my friend, the psychiatrist disappeared into the kitchen and returned with an obviously very old, somewhat rusty, just opened can of pineapple rings from Cuba and carefully placed in the centre of the table in triumph. I didn't know whether to weep or laugh. But then I just felt guilty.

This was obviously something they had been saving for the right occasion and had decided I was that occasion. We ate the pineapple. How could I refuse?

Then I pulled two bottles of vodka from my bag and handed them over. The pineapple was forgotten and I was (lightly) berated for not handing them over earlier so that they could be put outside on the window ledge to get as close to frozen as possible (I still keep vodka in the freezer). But I could still see the delight in their eyes. Despite not being optimum temperature, one bottle was consumed. Thereafter, I always took vodka to dinner invitations and presented it on arrival.

@chefmd will correct me if I misremember. In 1980s Moscow slang, or maybe just Russian slang, maybe still, a standard 750cl bottle of vodka was known as a troika (тройка) because it was just enough for three people to share.

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    • No registered users viewing this page.
×
×
  • Create New...