Eat was something we did a lot. It all started on the plane over the Atlantic Ocean. We boarded around 5 pm and had our dinner around 7 pm. Then we had "breakfast" around midnight. Then we had a third full meal on our second flight. Thus, by the time it was morning in Chicago we have had a couple extra meals.While in St. Petersburg, our regular eating times were so messed up that we felt hungry at odd times for just a minute or two, and I personally never felt full. We usually ate something before going to my parents, then ate a couple of times at their place, and then ate with our hosts back at the place where we slept. And let me tell you, these were no small meals. They were often several course affairs. In between the meals there was the ubiquitous tea with desert and, of course, conversation.
No matter how much you eat in Russia, your host will never be satisfied. They'll keep adding food to your plate until you are ready to pass out. And when you do pass out, they'll fill your plate again. After one of such meals I overheard my mother commenting to my aunt, "They aren't eating anything!"
The menu at my parents' was different every day, and included all my favorite dishes:
- Borsch (beat soup)
- Mushroom soup (made with dried mushrooms)
- Russian dark rye bread
- Salo (frozen salted pig fat - I haven't had any in 10 years!)
- Kvas (fermented bread drink)
- Russian salami
- Kefir (a kind of yogurt, but better :))
- Russian pancakes
- Syrniki (small pancakes made from a kind of farmer's cheese)
- Fried eggplant loaded with raw garlic
- Pelmeni (Russian dumplings)
- Pickled herring (if you ask me, it's much better than Swedish :))
- Lamb stew made in clay pots (my Dad's signature dish)
- Feijoa jam
- Buckwheat
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