When the first hunger is satisfied, when the essentials are already there, you really want to allow yourself a little extra … And let this extra, contrary to stereotypes, be a fresh and festive green salad.
Fifteen years ago, when I was just a girl, I experienced two gastronomic shocks almost simultaneously. I spent most of the summer in a remote village in the Pskov region, where I was struck by how little fresh greens the locals eat. The basis of their diet was cereals, bread, root crops, and on major holidays meat, fish or chicken — the village was poor.
However, it is not only a matter of poverty: dragging any “garden” on the table (my village acquaintances called fresh vegetables and herbs with this dismissive term) was considered bad form, evidence of insufficient respect for oneself and others. After returning from the village, I went to France to visit my parents’ friends. And then a new shock awaited me: never before had I imagined that carelessly, hand-torn leafy greens, seasoned with a sauce of magnificent olive oil, wine vinegar, sweet mustard and chopped walnuts, could be so tasty.
It was then that a stable stereotype formed in my head: meat, potatoes, bread are harsh Russian everyday life, and frivolous and spicy greens are European holidays inaccessible to us.
Then, in the early 90s, it was hard to imagine that someday all this would appear in our country. What used to serve as a ballast at best, which allowed artificially increasing the volume of the dish, has already acquired an independent value. Bitter, slightly “smoky” arugula, tender iceberg, spicy radiccio and sweet frillis organically entered our traditional Russian food — kulebyaki and borscht, saltwort and porridge. I am glad that there are no more stereotypes in my menu.