Peanut Butter Supplies at Critical Lows

Peanut butter. Do you take it for granted? I can almost guarantee that if you're an expat, you do not. We hoard the stuff and it is difficult to find in Russia. For me, a spoonful of peanut butter helps the oatmeal go down. That with a few raisins thrown in is a comfort food from childhood. But peanut butter is out of stock at the moment. Except for the one choice, below. . .

Sad isn't it. Here we are in the ice cream section, where peanut butter is stocked but there's one lonely little jar sitting there, left. It's from France. It doesn't even speak Russian. We. Or Wii. Or Oui Oui. Nor do I. But there it is. See that's $7.70 for that jar (235 rubles w/ 30.5-ish rubles to the dollar) and it has a different taste. It reminds of peanut butter-flavored icing. Say, let's go check in the honey section.

Here we are in the Department of Honey. Click to enlarge because of course you want to see this yourself. ;) It's mostly honey but at the bottom left, there is some peanut butter squirreled away. But it's that French variety again. They call it pate because they're kind of fancy, even with peanut butter.

Seems as though twice a year, this big supermarket gets a shipment of peanut butter from Kentucky. It comes crunchy, smooth or light. I go for the crunchy, thank you for asking, komrads. So I stop by regularly to see if they're restocked so I can hoard. It's not inexpensive and it's not light to haul it home but, boy howdy, it's so good stirred into that bowl of steamy hot oatmeal. And in breakfast burritos with mashed banana and raisins. But to each her own.

Well, this honey is reminding me of something back across the store. Come along, please. May I call you Honey? Oh, that was my mother's nickname as a child. Honey. And according to family legend, that's the only name she would answer to at home. Funny though, we got away with calling her Mom. Come to think of it though, I'd gladly call her Honey, if that meant having a few precious moments together. . . Just realized that if my dear mother where still in the land of the living, I wouldn't even have to think about peanut butter, she'd be sending it to me regularly. Now that I'm complaining, you understand, just wistful.

Here's the Department of Honey from the Don Region, not to be confused with that commercially canned stuff from who knows where. Seems as though the Queen Bee of this little department has zipped on home for the evening but that doesn't stop us from looking. Look, all different kinds of local honey made from various flowers in the area. And I had to take this picture pretty fast because, well, there were reasons. . . let me just say that sometimes in these parts, we gotta be surreptitious about things.

Honey or nyet, there's no real peanut butter to be found in this store, and if it's in any other store, that's a well kept secret. You know, I used to haul jars of it from the US back to Rostov, back in the days when we were allowed two 70-pound bags on international flights. And I remember bringing back lots of peanut butter, thanks to cousin Earl who's with Smuckers, and they do peanut butter in a big way. But those days are history because can you believe, there are things more important to pack than peanut butter.

Interestingly, over the years, several packages sent me from the US have never arrived. Mysterious, yes. Those packages had one thing in common: They each contained a jar of peanut butter. Hmm, maybe the guys at the customs office have started adding peanut butter to their oatmeal, too. ;)

Local Cuisine: On a Roll, in a Dumpling

Anybody else partial to McDonald's? It's a great place to meet people. And besides that, their country-fried potatoes with cheese sauce on the side are simply yummy. Say, does your McDonald's have Caesar Wraps? Well, welcome to Russia!


In Russian, it's just called Caesar Roll. (Click image to enlarge.) It's breaded chicken with salad ingredients and dressing. Pretty good, actually. Oh, and about that green neon sign on the right. As you see, it says РИС, pronounced reese. It's the Russian word for rice and that's a little suchi restaurant. Not that I have an intention.ever.of trying that any time soon. But we digress. . .


Back to our Mickey D's billboard here, let's zoom on in. The black word in the upper left says Caesar. In Russian, it's pronounced very close to the English. But the first letter represents a sound that we don't have in English. *Ц* is pronounced ts which is so close to the English s sound to my ear. But I'm often corrected to get the t sound in there too. The Russian ear can really hear the difference. And this is the land of the Russian ear, after all.

The next consonant is *З* which is like the English letter z. And then the last major letter, the *р* makes the r sound. The little squiggle after that, much like a small b is the soft sign. And we won't even start talking about the soft sign, now will we? Nyet! ;)


Hey, while we're here in the neighborhood, just beyond this Caesar Roll sign is a major supermarket. This is where I find exotic stuff such as peanut butter and celery. Say, how about a stroll in the freezer section. Because there in the freezer section we will find a classic Russian fast food, pelmeni!

These are little dough dumplings that need only to be boiled in water. A serving might be 8 to 10 of these. Pelmeni can be filled with ground beef or potatoes or cabbage. And then there are sweet ones filled with cherries and such. As I recall, the sweet ones are called vareniki. (Now please don't make me look that up. I'm already past my look-it-up quota for the day.)



Looking down the aisle. The whole array of dumplings. Your mouth watering yet? These little pelmeni can be ho-hum. But they're easily jazzed up. Hold on, I recall a photo of jazzed up pelmeni here somewhere on this very computer. . .


Ah yes, here we go. . .

Here's a bowl of your basic ho-hum pelmeni. Usually served with a dollop of sour cream and a spring of parsley. And that works. Those garnishes - sour cream and greens - are nearly requisite here in Russia. So these are the bare bones pelmeni. But hold on, there's more. . .


Here we go. Looks like red peppers, celery and. . . oh yes. My personal chef remembered mayo - which will do in the absence of sour cream - and something green. Oh yeah!

You know, much as I like the McDonald's Caesar roll and country-style fries and meeting new people there, I can be happy as a clam with a quiet dinner of pelmeni while watching the all-news channel out of Moscow.

How about you dear blog reader? McDonald's in Russia? Pelmeni - ever make it yourself? How 'bout Russian garnishes? Want to hear about your experiences!

Let's Go Shopping!

Say, care to join me for a morning shopping trip to Central Market? You know, I'm not into recreational shopping. To me, shopping is w-o-r-k. But add a colorful, cultural photo opportunity to the mix and I'm there. So off we go! This includes sound as well as sights because guess what - in recent days I've learned a thing or two about using the movie mode on my still-photo camera. Oh this is exciting. So come along. I think you'll enjoy standing with me on some steps overlooking part of the market.




How did you like that? What a contrast, eh? The magnificent cathedral and than the ordinary little shopping kiosks nearby.


Say, let's sashay on over to the vegetable department. The fresh produce - the bright peppers are so beautiful in August. This video is more a learning exercise than anything. Thought I should tell you that first. Just because.



Note to self: no need to be shrieking out orders to folks - Smile! Smile! - and various comments from behind the camera. See, this movie mode picks up sounds, and so learn to cut the chatter when shooting video. Anyway, the idea here is to get a taste of the interior of the market. And maybe another time I'll add subtitles to translate what's being said, but that's something for another lesson, another video. . .

Thank you for joining me dear friends! Trust you enjoyed our shopping trip as much as I did!

The Bush Leg-acy from a Russian Perspective

Several years ago, a Moscow-based newspaper ran the photo below – amusingly altered – on the front page and asked, Can Russia possibly live without little legs of Bush?


At issue was the poultry wars, the on-going debate about Russia’s importing US-grown chicken. You see, with Americans’ fondness for chicken breast, the dark meat has to go somewhere and tons of it has ended up on Russian dinner tables. In fact, over 700 tons of US-grown chicken was imported to Russia in 2007.

The (fowl import) poultry is shipped in 15-pound boxes straight from the Tyson folks in Springdale, Arkansas. Photos of these boxes, the Russian-English labels and the chicken itself are on this very computer, in fact, buried safely in a folder. . . somewhere. Those shots are thanks to obliging vendors in the market who have chuckled and helped when I’ve asked, Do you happen to have any little legs of Bush for sale?

How did US-grown chicken end up with such a name? Well, they say a poultry import agreement was reached back in the 80’s, during the presidency of George H. W. Bush. In Russian markets, the imported chicken was dubbed NOZH-kee BYSH-a, a diminutive form that has stuck, which would be translated sweet, cute little Bush legs. Usually it’s spoken with a smile and a chuckle. And when an American uses the term, the vendors get quite a laugh.

So, how's that for a . . . legacy?

The Alphabet of Sleep: IKEA

IKEA poses the question, А КАК СПИТЕ ВЫ? That is, So how do you sleep? Clever little rhyming phrase at the bottom: There's an idea. There's IKEA.

So, which letter most resembles the way you sleep?

The Source: American Clothing

American Club and City Clothing, says the sign. Thanks to the nice passersby, a man and his son, who agreed to stand there for the picture, to give it some sense of perspective. But American clothing - what would make it unique? Besides, isn't American clothing Made in China?

IKEA and More at Rostov-on-Don's New MEGA Center

Today I visited Rostov's new IKEA store. It opened Thanksgiving weekend. Nice to avoid the opening rush.

IKEA and several other stores are in the new MEGA center. It's a whole indoor shopping center. And it's here in Rostov. I'm thrilled to bits.

What I really have been needing are file folders. If there are file folders in Russia, it's a well kept secret. Pioneer woman that I am (hahah) I've taken to making them myself out of poster board. Our MEGA has an ice skating rink but no office supply store. Looks as though I'll continue to make file folders.


A MEGA employee allowed me to shoot her t-shirt. Here's the logo, it says MEGA: Shopping for the whole family.

I say that shopping is straight from English into Russian. But dear Sveta in Moscow and Ludmila the Linguist will insist that the word is originally Greek or German or something. And they would know!

MEGA has figured out all the angles, including transport from Rostov to the store. Since most of us rely on public transport, they're got free shuttle buses that run between the MEGA and Rostov center, which might be 20 kilometers away.

A SUBWAY food shop in Rostov. Oh, life is good. Also a Sbarro's Italian place. Oh boy oh boy.

How about you? Ever been to an IKEA store? Ever made your own file folders? Enjoy shopping? How about ice skating? Have you managed to find file folders in Russia?

Fireworks, Flares and More!

Here's a fireworks store that I ran into Saturday while downtown at Central Market. On the red sign, we have more English cognates brought into the Russian language.

Fireworks is that last word there and I'll bet that's straight from English. (We'll let Sveta in Moscow have the last word on this. She seems to have access to a super-duper dictionary with the etymologies and such.) But I'd say all three of these words come from English. The first word is Salutes (pronounced very similarly to English), the second is rockets (pronounced closely) and last of all is fireworks, the last word (pronounced similarly). That's the view standing on the tram line, looking straight ahead, south.

From here, pivot right and. . . what beauty! Of construction soon to obstruct the view of the cathedral, from this vantage point at least. But that's progress for ya. . . Say, do you hear that noise. . . it's getting closer, closer. . . Oh my goodness Here Comes a Tram. Let's get off these tracks so we don't become fireworks, ourselves!

In the Shadow of the Cathedral: Potatoes Galore

Rostov's biggest Russian Orthodox Church is surrounded on four sides by Central Market, an outdoor market similar, perhaps, to a farmer's market. Here's a shot from the potato section.


Across the way, another shot of potatoes, looking toward the east. Imagine so many varieties.


Here's a shot looking toward the west. It's important you know, that we give adequate coverage to the entire potato department. The one lady there got herself all in a tizzy about having her veggies photographed and said that a person needs purchase a permit first. We could call it a Permit to Photograph Potatoes. Hold on while I look up the Russian word for malarky. . .

A is for Abacus

Although calculators have largely replaced the abacus in these parts, occasionally you will see someone using one, fingers flying to total a purchase. The nice thing, no worries about replacing the battery.

How about you? Are you skilled with the abacus? Do you use one regularly or perhaps own one?

Fresh Cranberries in Central Market

Fresh cranberries (Клюква, as handwritten on the sign) straight from the bogs of Archangelsk (Архангельск) in far north Russia. Welcome to Rostov, little berries. Compared to frigid Archangelsk, Rostov is almost tropical.

These vitamin-packed gems will set you back 70 to 140 rubles a jar (24.5 rubles to the dollar at the moment), depending on the quality. I settled for the loose ones, two kilo at 200 rubles each.

Oh, aren't they beautiful? I'm stocking up on cranberries while they're in season. Someday soon I'll tell you about my adventures with drying cranberries and other means of preserving them.

How about you? Do you have a favorite way to enjoy this so good-for-you fruit? Have you ever tried drying fruit yourself?

Importing English: Second Hand

Pre-owned clothing shops are thriving here in Rostov-on-Don and they're called Second Hand stores. No surprise there, just another term imported from English. Pictured above is the term second hand, and it's pronounced almost the same in Russian as in English - so you can see first hand what Russian letters ~ Cyrillic letters to be more precise ~ produce what sounds. That is, with the exception of the a in hand. Here that sound is like e in elephant. So let's say that together, Second Hend. See, you're speaking Russian!

Babyshkas on Street Corners

Raspberry jam for you? Or fresh, cooked beets – ready to peel and eat? How about pickled onions and cucumbers, homemade coleslaw or spicy tomato sauce? Russian BAB-ysh-kas, or grandmothers, are often on street corners selling food stuffs in hopes of making a few extra rubles. These hearty souls come prepared to spend the day outside in the cold.


Oh great, this lady has walnuts for sale. In the market kiosks they run maybe 50 rubles ($2) a glass but they're bound to be cheaper here. And I always need walnuts for baking muffins.

Did you shell them yourself?

Oh of course! They’re so fresh and tasty.

And they're really clean - no little bits of shell? For how much?

Oh of course, I go through them very carefully. They’re 35 rubles a glass but for you, 30 rubles.

I need three glasses. Well, let’s make it five.

You wouldn’t need any canned sweet peppers do you? They're really tasty and so good for you.

Surprise on Aisle 3

These have been in stock half-a-year already, but we don’t know what they are.

How do you introduce someone to her first crock pot?

The blond sales girl in cookware was explaining why the crock pots – okay, okay, they’re really slow cookers for the purists among us – weren’t moving off the shelves.

My trip to the store that day had nothing to do with cookware. I needed an outdoor thermometer with Fahrenheit temperatures, an elusive commodity in the land of Celsius.

Walking past cookware, however, my head automatically swiveled toward the steamers, electric tea pots and blini skillets just in case the one item I’ve always wanted – a crock pot – might be in stock. After eight years in Russia, I had pretty much given up on finding a made-for-220-volt crock pot anywhere on the continent. My adventures and misadventures here with crock pots and converters of foreign electricity that I’ve lugged over from the States could fill a book. But let’s get on back to the cookware aisle.

Blond sales girl eyed me with wonderment. Here was someone who could introduce her to the mysterious little appliance.

So how do you introduce someone to her first crock pot? Just for grins, I decided to try the mantra of FlyLady, my favorite mentor of household organization.

A crock pot is like a secret weapon in your kitchen.

Problem was that the Russian word for weapon was escaping me so I tried synonyms.

A crock pot is like. . . it’s like an automatic in the kitchen.

Hmmm, no dice. Automatic weapons are rare in kitchens, even in Russia.

A crock pot is like. . . a pistol in the kitchen.

Pistol was even worse. And bomb was out of the question.

By now, blond sales girl was eyeing with a combination of pity, amusement and a dash of suspicion. Fortunately she didn’t make a run for security.

I switched strategies.

Crock pots are really popular at home, I said. They’re great for making sauces and soups. You can toss in all the ingredients in the morning and return home hours later to the aroma of dinner ready. It’s wonderful.

We even have special cookbooks with recipes just for crock pots.

Blond sales girl was interested but not sold. I realized that she and others like her lack a genuine crock pot experience. Perhaps I could do in-store demonstrations, handing out samples in little paper cups. The aroma of something tomato-based with garlic and onion would draw a crowd.

Then crock pots would fly off the shelves. Rostov would become the crock pot capital of southwest Russia. The crock pot would become a staple in every kitchen. Yes and I could play a part in that transformation of culinary culture.

Still deciding if I’m going to spring for a crock pot, myself though. I stopped by last weekend to check the crock pot inventory. No action there. Double-checked the price: 1,990 rubles for the 6.5 liter model. That’s $76 and Wal-Mart would sell it for a third of that. But throw into the pot the cost of excess baggage and the electricity converter and the waiting time of 12 months or so until I’m in a time zone anywhere near a Wal-Mart, and the cost pretty well evens out.

So I’d better hustle on down for that crock pot or I’ll be sorry. But I still haven’t tracked down a Fahrenheit thermometer. Alas, I’ve resorted to a mathematical formula for converting Celsius temperatures into something I understand. Our high today is 31 degrees. And here we are, in the middle of June.