Part 7 - The Fish and how to eat Spaghetti in Russia Lilia was skeptical when I first told her in email that I cook. She wrote back that cooking is different in Russia, where people do everything. That was opposed to the west, where people put someting in the microwave oven and warm it up. I reassured her that my microwave got very little use. Being allowed to help with the cooking was a slow process. It took a long time for them to accept that my chopping process was different from theirs, but the pieces of whatever I was chopping would end up the same size in the end.

Nina wanted to see how I would do with more than just peeling and chopping potatoes. One morning she came home, and with a big gold-toothed smile and pulled a large scary looking fish out of her bag. In a very animated fashion, she indicated that I would cook the 'Reeb' (roll the 'R' as much as you can), and she and Lilia would sit and watch, and eat.

It's been a long time since I've cleaned and scaled a fish. The particular creature was a lean, mean, fighting machine. He had a large protruding lower jaw, designed for snapping large bugs and small children from the surface of the Volga. It was probably 40 or 50 centimeters long.

Due to a long day, and getting home late, I was granted a one day reprieve from my date with 'Reeb'. However, he wouldn't wait too long. I originally planned to bake him, but the oven wasn't working, and Lilia and I couldn't figure it out. Instead, I decided to fry him, along with finely chopped garlic.

Lilia only had stainless steel, rather dull, knives. Cutting through Reeb's tough skin was an ordeal, but, being a lean, mean, fighting machine, his guts were nice and compact, and easy to clean. I then proceeded to try to scale him.

Scales started flying everywhere! I squinted, for fear of getting on in my eye. After getting scales on me, the cupboards, the wall, Lilia, and anything else within about a one meter radius, I got the bright idea of turning on the tap. Scaling under water kept the flying scales under control.

After scaling, I proceeded to try to fillet Mr. Reeb. Even if I knew what I was doing, it wouldn't have been easy with that knife. As it was, I don't know if there was more meat on the bones, or more bones in the meat. While I was hacking, Lilia was frying the pieces I produced. In the end, he really did turn out rather tasty, even if we did have to watch for bones. Lilia and Nina said he had lots of bones, because he was a Russian fish. I laughed, and joked that yes, in Canada, our fish come without bones!

Nina seemed satisfied that I could do more than just chop potatoes and cook almond rocha, but I decided I wanted to cook something I knew I could handle. Time for a bachelor staple- Spaghetti!

The next day, Lilia guided me in my search for spaghetti ingredients in Russia. A quest if I've ever heard of one! She did have some noodles at home, but they were a bit too thick. Actually, they were a lot too thick. I shouldn't have been surprised. In Russia, big is good, and bigger is better. The first store we went to showed us more of the same mega-noodles. When Lilia pressed for Italian, the lady went to the back and returned with a package of genuine Italian sphagetti- made in Bulgaria. At least it was the correct size.

Next we looked for tomatoes. They had tomatoes, but they were a rather light orange colour. Of course, in Russia, if the store doesn't have precisely what you want (or even if it does), you go look somewhere else. Five stores and lots of orange tomatoes later, I finally convinced Lilia that orange tomatoes would do. I selected three that weren't too green. I figured if I couldn't get ripe tomatoes, I'd better cheat and get some sauce. Of course, the store we were in was the only one that didn't have sauce.

So we went to one more store. Out of the corner of my eye, what do I spy, but a pile of gorgeous RED tomatoes! And next to them, a pile of gorgeous GREEN peppers! The fact that we had just spent several hours trudging from store to store to store only made the discovery more special. I bought several tomatoes, and a couple of green peppers. I figured the sauce would still be a good idea, so we went to a different section of the store to get sauce. They had one brand, with two kinds. Of course, I had to inspect both. I started to set down my shopping bag (which I had been carrying all over Yoshkar Ola) when Lilia scolded me. You don't put things down on the floor where people walk. I didn't see the big deal of putting the bag on the floor, we weren't going to eat the bag, but she wouldn't hear of it. So I held the bag between my legs, and inspected the two kinds of sauce. Of course, since the labels were in Russian, I didn't know what I was looking for. I did find the ingredients, and started to compare them, in Russian. The two lists were identical. After very careful consideration, I picked the jar with the red label, and handed back the jar with the green label.

I got out my wallet to pay, but Lilia stopped me. This was an old style store. We got the price from the lady, went to the cashier, told her how much we were paying, paid, got a receipt, went back to the sauce lady, and traded the receipt for the jar of sauce. It's amazing how complicated life can be made.

I had mentioned parmesan cheese, without much hope. Lilia asked in each store we went to, but parmesan cheese in Yoshkar Ola was just too much to hope for. Oregano and Basil were also not to be found.

It was getting rather late, and we were worried that Nina, who didn't have a key to the apartment, would be waiting for us. I suggested a taxi. Normally this would be too extravagant for Lilia, but she doesn't want her mother waiting in the cold either. I stand back, as she goes and negotiates a price. She comes back and asks me if 15 rubles is ok. Thats about $1 CDN. It took me a second to realize that she was asking me, not telling me. She thought it was expensive, since by bus it's only 1 ruble. We did beat Nina home, but not by much.

As I was making the sauce, Lilia's cousin came over. He also brought his dog, a very friendly pit bull. Unfortunately, this dog didn't come with a 'handle' like the last one. She was solid muscle. She was on a leash, which was a good thing. I think if she had taken a liking to a shoe, there wouldn't have been much arguing with her.

Lilia had seen spaghetti eaten in movies, so she knew the basic idea of spinning the fork in the spoon. Knowing, and practical experience, are very different thing. I did my best to not laugh as these three Russians struggled with spaghetti for the first time. I'm afraid I couldn't help it. They were good natured, though, and did all enjoy it.

All, that is, except Nina. She didn't eat much, and didn't look very happy. She was obviously not in a good mood, but I couldn't tell why. I was happy to join Lilia, as we went to her cousin's to borrow his phone, and sharpen a few knives. Getting a phone installed in Lilia's apartment would cost about 4000 rubles ($160 USD). While Lilia used the phone, I was introduced to the older cousin and a friend. They were nearing the end of a bottle of vodka, and I wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't the first of the evening.

On our way home, I mentioned to Lilia that her mother seemed upset. She explained that it was her cousin. He had acted very rudely. I hadn't noticed, but then I didn't understand the conversation either. At home, we discussed it with Nina. She apologized to me, and said her nephew brought back memories of that whole family. Lilia's three cousins are the sons of her father's sister. Nina said they were raised the same as Lilia's father. She went on to explain that Lilia's father, Gafur, had told Nina to get an abortion. When she refused, he threatened to kill her. She said fine, but not in the house! She left him when Lilia was very young.

At this point Lilia and I were washing dishes. I gave her a big hug, and and thanked Nina for having the strength to do what was right. Lilia would later explain that her cousins were all brought up the same as her father, to sit around while women did everything.

Part 6

Trip 2 Index

Part 8