You see: Kpucmuha (or "Kristina" in non-Cyrillic writing) is my Russian name. Or, should I say, it is the lazy representation of my Russian name using my normal keyboard and standard encoding. I know, I know: it looks like my alter ego's name should be pronounced something like "Caw-pook-moo-ha".
If you know me somewhat well, you know that I spent my junior year of college abroad in Siberia. SIBERIA. Doesn't that word make you feel about 30 degrees cooler? (You're welcome, to all my currently-sweltering East Coast friends & family.) But, no, seriously. It's not like I lived in Yakutsk or anything. I lived in Irkutsk, which has a climate closer to Upstate New York (only cooler in the summer... I wish I was there now!)
Irkutsk is a really beautiful city with a rich cultural history, thanks to artists, officers and other nobles getting in trouble for revolting against Tsar Nicholas and being exiled there in the early 19th Century. Anyway, it is located not far from Mongolia, and the epic body of water by the name of Lake Baikal. I have a picture of me fake-meditating along its shores somewhere. I really must get my old Russia photos out and scan them (not the embarrassing ones or any that show me drinking vodka.)
Before I lived in Irkutsk, I knew it only as a section of the Risk Board. Hey, look! Yakutsk is on there too.
So anyway, thanks to the awesome board game of world domination, I had at least heard of where they were sending me before I got there. It was the fall of 1992 when I and my classmate packed our things and made the long journey to... well, SIBERIA (still impressive-sounding, isn't it?) We were lucky... there was food. If we had gone the year before, it might have been a different story.
Long. Story. Short. The year was great (and frustrating, and sad, and anger-inducing, and awesome, and pretty much everything in-between.) We returned home with better Russian skills, first-hand cultural knowledge, and upon walking into American department stores, we wanted to throw up from all the choices of things to buy.
And I, personally, came back with a love of Russian food (but sadly, not a very good grasp of cooking it.)
PIROSHKY! PELMINI! KASHA! BORSCHT! PLOV! CABBAGE, CABBAGE & MORE CABBAGE. I love it all.
I went back to Russia after college (more on that fiasco some other time) and even earned my MA at SUNY Albany's now-defunct Russian Language, Literature and Culture program.
So to sum up: Russia is kind of my thing. I love Dostoevsky beyond belief, and the poems of Anna Akhmatova and other writers who lived (and died) during the Great Purge send me over the moon. The concept that someone could get thrown into prison--or worse--for a work of poetry, is so foreign to me. Of course, Osip Mandelshtam's Stalin Epigram (which got him arrested) wasn't exactly flattering, saying of the dictator: "He rolls the executions on his tongue like berries. He wishes he could hug them like big friends from home."
Don't even get me started on the awesomeness that is cheesy Russian movies from the 1970's. Google "Eldar Ryazanov" and you will be on your way to seeing what I mean.
Coming back to food, I want to do something "Julie & Julia"-esque, and start cooking more Russian food (compared to the amount I am currently cooking, which is none, that should be a relatively easy endeavor.) My brother Don, several years ago, gave me a Russian cookbook called Please To The Table. For years I have read the recipes & drooled, but for the most part have only made Piroshky (and that was a long time ago.) So, I do believe I may have to delve into this book & start cooking some actual Russian (and Soviet) cuisine. I hereby announce "The Christy & Kpucmuha Russian Cooking Experiment of 2013"!
Hmmmm.... so I guess I should pick a recipe. It's too hot to cook, so I think I will check out the salad section first... Details coming soon to a blog near you.
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