November 30th 2007
popix/Flickr [1]
Bottle-scarred Economist correspondent Edward Lucas breakfasts on plum brandy, lunches on balsams and dines on bison-grass vodka, but draws the line at a side-dish of Hungarian lung stew ...
Special to MORE INTELLIGENT LIFE
The ex-communist world has a deserved reputation as a culinary wasteland (see box, below right), but the drinks are something else. Travellers to Prague find that the "real" Budweiser from Ceske Budejovice (no relation to its rice-based American counterpart) makes even the national dish of dumplings in gravy go down without protest. Winemaking has been transformed since the Soviet era—when bottles had to be inspected for wasps and snails, the former merely a nuisance, the latter stomach-turning (at least for foreigners).
But the real treat is the hard stuff. Every country from the Baltic to the Black sea has a national tipple, usually served in both industrialised and home-made versions. In Romania, tuica (also spelled tzuika, tsuika, tsuica, or tzuica) is the traditional start to any meal. It is made with plums, and bears a startling resemblence to the sljivovica of neighbouring Serbia. Both drinks are part of a delightful family of fruit brandies popular from the far corners of the Balkans up to modern Poland (an area that bears a coincidental resemblance to the Ottoman empire in Europe at its height). For the adventurous, visnjevaca (sour cherry) dunjevaca (quince) and smokvovaca (fig) are well worth a try. You may find these in shops, but you are better off finding a peasant farmer somewhere in what used to be Yugoslavia.
Westerners may think that hard liquor is for after dinner, but these drinks are usually apertifs. To help you digest, the best drink in the region is Unicum. Anyone who likes Italy's Fernet Branca, or German's Underberg, will feel that they have graduated into elysium when they try it. The flavours are an intense mix of liquorice, ginger, coriander and cinnamon (that's guesswork: the recipe is secret). It brings tranquility to even the most overburdened stomach. Latvia's balsams is a close rival—and a neck ahead for those who like its flexibility. It has a stronger tinge of burnt oranges; Latvians put it in their coffee or in fruit salad. With Champagne (or any old sparkling wine) it creates a terrific cocktail.
Any offer of absinthe [2] in eastern Europe, by contrast, should be shunned as firmly as any suggestion of a return to the planned economy or the one-party state.
Having accustomed your liver to the demands of life in "new Europe", it is time to move north. Poland and Russia tussle for the right to be the "real" home of vodka (an argument that the Swedes and Finns regard with bemused disdain: how can anybody take these Slavic squabbles seriously?). Having sorted out the national question, the serious drinker has to decide between vodkas made with different feedstuffs (barley, rye, wheat and so forth). The nasty stuff produced in western Europe is made from farm surplus products, disgracefully subsidised by the taxpayer. The cheapest of all is synthetic alcohol, produced in factories by a chemical process. If you think all vodka tastes the same, just try drinking a cheap one.
If your palate finds little difference amid the clear vodkas, you can ring the changes with the flavoured kind (for example with chili peppers, ginger, fruit, vanilla, chocolate or cinnamon). Best of all-in your correspondent's view-is Zubrowka, a Polish (or Belarussian) rye vodka flavoured with bison grass, a stalk of which can be found in the bottle.
Sadly, the scent of newly mown hay that makes Zubrowka so seductive comes from the presence (in tiny quantities) of coumarin, a toxin that can be legally used in perfumes, but is prohibited for use in foodstuffs in America. The version sold in America now is coumarin-free.
On the whole, though, the names of vodkas vary more than the contents. Lithuania used to have one called "Dar po viena" (roughly "Let's have another one"). Romania, astonishingly, has a vodka called "Stalinskaya"; Russia's favourite Stolichnaya (Capital) brand, disgracefully, uses Soviet kitsch in its advertisements, including pictures of the murderous founder of Soviet communism, Vladimir Lenin, who is described as a "visionary". That is something to discuss over a Zubrowka or six.
(Edward Lucas is deputy international editor, and correspondent for central and eastern Europe, at The Economist. His book, "The New Cold War—How the Kremlin menaces both Russia and the West [3]", will be published in February 2008 by Bloomsbury in Britain, and Palgrave in America.)
Links:
[1] http://flickr.com/photos/babywalrus/
[2] http://www.moreintelligentlife.com/node/680
[3] http://www.amazon.co.uk/New-Cold-War-Kremlin-Menaces/dp/0747595674
8 comments:
dear mr lucas,
i'm starting to wonder have you ever been in estonia? what are you actually writing about?
i'm estonian and i have never seen or heard about "beetroot pizza". who are your contacts here in estonia? why are they lying to you? it's clear now that they are not estonians anyway.
by the way, i've heard many bad comments about british food, so in your place i wouldnt be so arrogant about the national kitchens of eastern europe countries. you should better try them more times than one. hungarian home made foods are delicious and certainly it is possible to find something tasty in estonia too. at least our italian friends have founded...
How dare you dis cepelinai! They're the fish&chips + curry + sunday morning fryup of Lithuania. Only after eating six of them will one appreciate the essence of lithuanian cuisine. And then die.
:)
In old Europe, when people talk about national food, they think about what is served in restaurats. In "new" Europe, when people think about their national food, they think about what their mother or grandmother makes on a Sunday.
Hence restaurants in CEE tend to be below par, as local diners do not espect the food to be good. It will be much better at home. They tend to concentrate on getting drunk and dancing in restaurants.
Dear URR
I lived in Estonia from 1992-4 when I was editing the Baltic Independent. My memories of our late night battles with the printing plant staff are also indelibly associated with the consumption of pizzas from Petri Pizza, then almost the only fast-food outlet in all Tallinn. "Suur Pizza dopelt peetiga" was I think the phrase I used for a large pizza with double beetroot topping. I was glad to have it at the time, but I am also glad that this culinary peculiarity has given way to more conventional fare
Balsams is also good on vanilla ice cream. As always, drink in moderation! :-)
As an aside, wasn't Russia's much touted Stolichnaya produced and bottled in Latvia at some time?
I can not understand only one thing - why "zeppelin" have to be avoided. That is my favorite Latgalian ;) food.
Actually may be because you tried it in the wrong country :))
oh I see, peetri pizza, huh. pizza is not estonian food as you probably know, but in these years maybe really some people covered the pizza with very strange things. my grandmother made open pies covered with cabbage and meet or apples or pohlamoos, all of them very tasty. beet was always eaten only boiled, cut little pieces and with some köömned as a salad.
I hope that in some day you will find here some more tastful food.
ps estonian liquoer "vana tallinn" is too quite known, at least in russia.
Even now, Cafe Mmmuah next to the Kaubamaja does a bruschetta with beetroot pesto. It's excellent.
Peetri Pizza's famous beet topping was not some ignorant Eastern European peculiarity, but probably more in line with Italian culinary freedom and the versatility of piatti poveri (poor food). Go to the Veneto or Friulia and you will see spinach used in sweets, beet gelato, etc. It's not bad at all, besides being nutritious.
And why put down Czech food as boring? Dumplings or even cepeliniai can be works of art if done well.
What tends to make food unpalatable is not the presence of offal or abundance of butter or lard or starch but commercialization and homogenization.
Sadly this is a trend in Estonia, where I live, as it is in most places.
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