Back In The USSR

When I was a teenager, my parents allowed me to sign up for a trip to the Soviet Union that was being put together by one of my teachers.  A few of my best friends were going and it seemed like somewhere really interesting to visit.

It was winter break when we took this journey and Russia was cold and snowy.  We traveled through the country from Moscow to Leningrad (currently Saint Petersburg).  I saw magnificent things, some of which I may have been too young to fully appreciate.  We went to the Kremlin, Red Square, Lenin’s Tomb, The Hermitage and Olympic Park.  We saw amazing architecture, great works of art and experienced the culture.  At the time, late 1980’s, the Soviet Union was eager to prove that they were no longer our Cold War enemy so we were taken to elementary school classes where the children sang songs to us in English and participated in an overly scripted dance social with Russian youths.  Some of these events came off not so much cultural exchanges but as advertisements for a kinder, gentler Soviet Union but it was fun none the less.

I remember only a couple of things about the food.  It isn’t that I have forgotten anything, there was just little that was memorable.  The food is largely what you would expect.  We ate a lot of combinations of liver and onions with healthy helpings of borscht.  In other words, being a bunch of high school students, we ate a lot of bread with butter and were terribly envious of the student from Canadian group who had packed his own jar of peanut butter.  Our one comfort from home was that at most of the meals we were able to get Pepsi.

I have just one positive recollection of the food in Russia.  I don’t know if this meal would have been a stand out if it had been one among many great meals or if it is only because it was the final meal after a trip full of liver and onions but I remember it as being the best thing I ever tasted.  A golden breaded ball arrived on my plate and I had no idea what it was.  I slid my knife into the tender, crispy ball and butter squirted out onto the plate.  I cut a slice of what turned out to be chicken and tasted it, moist and delicious.  This turned out to be Chicken Kiev.  And I remind myself of how much I appreciated that meal every time I think I am so sick of having chicken for dinner.