Okay, so I would say that up until this point my blog has been largely comprised of things I think will interest you, my loyal blog followers. They are happy things filled with fun photos and quirky anecdotes from my wonderful life in Russia. Welp, this post will offer none of these things.
WARNING: the following rant is for dedicated and brave readers only.
Ok, so my rant's not going to be that bad. But today I'm going to tell you all about the wonders of Russian food. And by wonders I mean terrors. In so many ways.
First of all, Russian cuisine is largely colorless and made only of carbohydrates, butter (is butter a carb?)* salt, and often unidentifiable meat/fish. Some popular Russian dishes include pelmeni (boiled potstickers covered in butter), blini (grease-fried pancakes covered usually in sour cream), or a chunk of fish obscured by cheesy mayonnaisey gloop. Bread products abound. Salads consist of cucumbers and tomatoes slathered in mayonaise. Today for dinner my roommate had macaroni noodles with little chunks of meat. There was no sauce, just a half a cup of butter and a pound of salt.
So here's the real kick in the face (this new saying will catch on because it describes a phenomenon that is both painful and impressive): Russian women are SO SKINNY. My roommate looks like a mail order bride who models on weekends. She's 5'10" and weighs no more than me, though that's not saying much anymore as I have gained at least seven pounds since I've been here. That's the equivalent of growing a second heart, which I might need when mine gets so clogged with Russian pancakes and other "carbs"that it is no more efficient than the hot water pump that occasionally produces a trickle in my shower.
The worst part is, I'm turning into a Russian chef. On my last trip to the grocery store I bought oil, cabbage, ground meat, noodles, and salt. Lettuce appears in zero of my salads. (What then makes them salads, you ask? I know not.) I made a delicious chili the other day only to fill my bowl with equal parts sour cream.
I like to believe that because I'm starting to think like a Russian, I'll soon start to metabolize like one as well. I'll let you know how that works out. But hey, a girl can dream, right? Wherever you may be, dear reader, eat a nutritious meal or two for me.
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*Extra points for you if you get the Mean Girls reference.
WARNING: the following rant is for dedicated and brave readers only.
Ok, so my rant's not going to be that bad. But today I'm going to tell you all about the wonders of Russian food. And by wonders I mean terrors. In so many ways.
First of all, Russian cuisine is largely colorless and made only of carbohydrates, butter (is butter a carb?)* salt, and often unidentifiable meat/fish. Some popular Russian dishes include pelmeni (boiled potstickers covered in butter), blini (grease-fried pancakes covered usually in sour cream), or a chunk of fish obscured by cheesy mayonnaisey gloop. Bread products abound. Salads consist of cucumbers and tomatoes slathered in mayonaise. Today for dinner my roommate had macaroni noodles with little chunks of meat. There was no sauce, just a half a cup of butter and a pound of salt.
So here's the real kick in the face (this new saying will catch on because it describes a phenomenon that is both painful and impressive): Russian women are SO SKINNY. My roommate looks like a mail order bride who models on weekends. She's 5'10" and weighs no more than me, though that's not saying much anymore as I have gained at least seven pounds since I've been here. That's the equivalent of growing a second heart, which I might need when mine gets so clogged with Russian pancakes and other "carbs"that it is no more efficient than the hot water pump that occasionally produces a trickle in my shower.
The worst part is, I'm turning into a Russian chef. On my last trip to the grocery store I bought oil, cabbage, ground meat, noodles, and salt. Lettuce appears in zero of my salads. (What then makes them salads, you ask? I know not.) I made a delicious chili the other day only to fill my bowl with equal parts sour cream.
I like to believe that because I'm starting to think like a Russian, I'll soon start to metabolize like one as well. I'll let you know how that works out. But hey, a girl can dream, right? Wherever you may be, dear reader, eat a nutritious meal or two for me.
____________________________________________________________
*Extra points for you if you get the Mean Girls reference.
Ermagerd! Berter! Hang in there, seester. I know that you must miss my cooking. By the way, I get extra points. Remember, if they don't have the next size up, you can always try Sears.
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