the secret family recipes would be put on display as the potatoes were mashed to silky golden perfection. The goose or the rabbit were roasted in the oven until they were succulent and falling apart at the bone while glistening with fragrant gravy. My mother’s stuffed carp was expertly set in a clear consomme jelly making it the perfect table centerpiece. The traditional Ukrainian fare was always represented with uniformly rolled golubtsi , known as stuffed cabbage in the U.S., an unusually dull translation for something so complex and delicious. During winter birthdays braised sauerkraut with pork ribs made an appearance usually accompanied by buckwheat cakes with wild mushroom gravy and crepes stuffed with ground chicken fried into hot crisp triangles accompanied by a mug of chicken broth with herbs. The cold appetizers table was usually set first, signaling the imminent arrival of the guests. That’s where the old czarist and Soviet culinary influence was most apparent. The small canapes with smoked sausage or smoked fish were set up on a round plate and sprinkled with grated egg and dusted with cheese. In my grandmother’s village, they usually smeared some farmer’s cheese and crushed garlic on top of a savory fried doughnut cut in half. My grandmother often would add some beet juice coloring the cheese and garlic mixture a beautiful pink, making it more special and festive. When I was little, I did not like how one of my aunts made her canapes, so I never ate them at her house. I would pretend to go wash my hands and volunteer to help, so I could skip that dish at her house without hurting her feelings. She also chopped the onions and the pickles way too thick in her Salad a la Olivye, the classic elevated potato salad and a staple of every Soviet gathering. During tough economic times and political instability its main ingredient, the green peas, were impossible to find in any store and a myriad of complex tricks of black market produce machinations were involved to secure a jar of peas by every family. The other well known dish on our birthday table was the Shuba Salad, literal translation for which is the Fur Coat Salad. This dish was very trendy when I was about seven years old. The premise behind it was to layer in a fur-like fuzziness boiled grated potatoes, chopped onions, hard boiled eggs, cooked carrots and beets on top of pickled herring as if it was a coat. The other hard to find item required for the big cold salad dishes, like Olivye and Shuba was mayonnaise. I still wonder what happened to the peas and mayo in the Soviet Union, the land of collective farming, hard working people, and rich topsoil. Everything was sprinkled with a bit
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