Instinct for Preservation

For many Americans, the words “pickles and preserves” conjure up images of state fairs. But these conserved fruits and vegetables resonate much more deeply with Russians, for whom the preservation of summer’s bounty is crucial to surviving the long winter.

Traditional Russian preserving techniques, especially for pickles, differ from American practice. The most common American pickles are cucumbers packed in a vinegar solution flavored with dill. Other vegetables are pickled, too, such as okra and sweet mixes, like the relishes and chowchows that originated from Indian chutneys. Fruits can get similar treatment, as in pickled watermelon rind or spiced pickled peaches. As for jam, most American grocery-store brands contain so much sugar that the flavor of the fruit becomes secondary; and the fruit itself is boiled down into a smooth jam or jelly rather than being left whole.

By contrast, although vinegar- packed pickles can be found, the age-old Russian method calls for brining the cucumbers in a salt solution to activate malolactic fermentation – a process with many health benefits, which the Russian peasantry instinctively knew when insisting on something sour with each meal. As the Russian word for “pickles” – solyonnye [salted] ogurtsy) – reveals, simple cucumbers, ogurtsy, become pickles once they are salted. Mushrooms are also frequently salted, which is how they taste best. As with cucumbers, they are placed upright rather than on their sides in a crock or barrel, layered with coarse salt, heads of dill, garlic, peppercorns, and black currant leaves – aromatics that lend excellent flavor. A little hot water is poured over all, and the mushrooms or cucumbers are left to ferment (alternatively, a brine can be made and poured over the vegetables). The salt draws out the moisture, thereby preserving the foodstuff. Russians prize the brine (rassol) nearly as much as they do the finished pickle. It is an important element in several Russian soups, especially the famous rassolnik, a mixture of chopped meats for which the brine provides a wonderfully sour tang.

Salting is also used for fruits, a process known in Russian as mochenie – sousing or soaking. Apples and watermelons most frequently undergo this treatment. In the past, grocers had large barrels of soused fruit floating in brine for customers to purchase. These wine-flavored Russian preserves make an excellent accompaniment to game.

Making sweet preserves was also once distinctive in Russia. Today most Russians, like Americans, reach for a bag of granulated sugar. But in the past sugar was such a luxury that very few had access to it. Not until the second half of the seventeenth century could the wealthy indulge in sugar, and it was only in the nineteenth century, with the rise of beet sugar production, that sugar became widely accessible. What Russia did have was enormous amounts of excellent honey, which gave preserves a distinctive taste, and Russians once distinguished between preserves made with honey (na medu) and those made with sugar (na sakhare). The Russians also boiled down fruits such as grapes and watermelon into a thick syrup known as patoka, that was used to preserve nuts, gingerroot, fruits, and even vegetables like carrots, turnips and radishes.

Once wealthy households had access to sugar, it was also used to frost and glacé fruit. Tart berries and grapes were dipped into beaten egg whites, then rolled in fine sugar and left to dry slightly in a warm oven. Apricots, peaches, pears, cherries, and sweetmeats such as plums stuffed with nuts were cooked lightly in syrup, then dusted with sugar crystals to create special confections known as “dry Kiev jam.” Catherine the Great took such a liking to these candied fruits that in 1777 she issued an edict requiring that hundreds of pounds be supplied to the court. Although such sweetmeats have mainly disappeared, Russians still prefer whole fruits preserved in syrup, which are perfect for serving in small crystal dishes with jam.

Times change, and as sugar gained widespread use, the art of preserving in honey largely vanished. During perestroika, one unanticipated result of Mikhail Gorbachev’s crackdown on vodka production and sales was the disappearance of sugar from the stores. People rushed to buy it up and hoard it for making moonshine, or samogon. When the preserving season arrived, housewives protested strongly: Without sugar, they couldn’t make jam; after all, the know-how to make delicate honey-based preserves had been lost.

Melon Preserves ~ Дыня в сиропе

This recipe takes advantage of both sugar, for ease of use, and honey, for its lovely flavor, to create an aromatic preserve that can be enjoyed Russian style – in a small dish with tea – or American style, spooned over vanilla ice cream.

1 3-pound honeydew melon or cantaloupe,
slightly underripe

1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

4½ cups water

⅓ cup vodka

½ cup mild honey

1 cup sugar

1-inch piece of fresh gingerroot, peeled

1 vanilla bean

Remove the rind from the melon and cut the flesh into 1-inch cubes. You should have about 4 cups.

Bring 3 cups of the water to a boil in a large saucepan along with the lemon juice. Add the melon cubes, then return the water to a boil. As soon as the water boils, drain the melon, refreshing it with cold water to stop the cooking. Drain well.

Place the melon cubes on a baking sheet and sprinkle with the vodka. Let stand for 15 minutes, spooning the vodka over the melon a couple of times.

Meanwhile, place the remaining 1½ cups water in a saucepan with the honey, sugar, gingerroot, and vanilla bean. Bring to a boil and boil for 3 minutes, then add the melon and vodka. Simmer until the melon is translucent, about 10 minutes. Remove from the heat and cool to room temperature, then remove the gingerroot and vanilla bean. Pack the preserves into a quart jar. Either seal for long storage or keep refrigerated.

Makes 1 quart.

Adapted from A Taste of Russia