A Culinary Journey Through the Soviet Empire
Please to the Table: The Russian Cookbook
By Anya von Bremzen and John Welchman
Workman Publishing, 688 pp.
In Please to the Table, Anya von Bremzen and John Welchman have created something far more ambitious than a typical cookbook. This sprawling 688-page volume serves as both culinary guide and cultural atlas, mapping the vast gastronomic landscape of the former Soviet Union with scholarly depth and genuine affection.
Von Bremzen, a Moscow-born émigré who would go on to write the acclaimed memoir Mastering the Art of Soviet Cooking, brings insider knowledge and literary flair to this collaboration with her husband, British art historian John Welchman. Together, they've assembled a remarkable collection that acknowledges a fundamental truth: Soviet cuisine was never monolithic, but rather a kaleidoscope of regional traditions shaped by the fifteen republics and countless ethnic groups within them.
The book's greatest strength lies in its refusal to simplify. Von Bremzen and Welchman guide readers through distinct culinary territories—Russian, Baltic, Georgian, Central Asian, Ukrainian, Armenian—showing how climate, geography, and centuries of conquest created wildly different flavor profiles within a single political entity. Classic Russian wild mushroom dishes and hearty Ukrainian borscht share pages with the refined exoticism of Azerbaijani quail in pomegranate sauce and Uzbek steamed lamb dumplings. The range is dizzying and delicious.
What elevates this cookbook above mere recipe compilation is von Bremzen's gift for narrative. Her prose crackles with personality and cultural insight, particularly when exploring what she calls "gastro-cultural curiosities." A standout anecdote involves a Russian friend's bewilderment at being offered only ice cream during an American home visit—a perfect illustration of the Soviet expectation that hospitality means abundance. Von Bremzen's observation that "it sometimes takes years for Soviet emigrés in the United States to understand that a casual invitation to someone's home doesn't necessarily mean a full-scale meal" captures a fundamental cultural divide with warmth and wit.
The essays interspersed throughout offer rich context, exploring everything from the etymology of kasha (originally meaning "feast") to the proper presentation of Uzbek pilaf. Literature lovers will appreciate excerpts from Pushkin, Dumas, and Chekhov woven among the recipes, adding another layer of cultural texture. Von Bremzen's description of her first breakfast in Yerevan—eggs scrambled with tomatoes and peppers, local sheep's cheese, spicy sudjuk sausage, strong coffee, and awaiting dolma—demonstrates her ability to make readers taste food through words alone.
The suggested menus cleverly illustrate cultural cross-pollination and provide perfect blueprints for ambitious entertaining. The Russian vodka party menu is particularly intriguing, featuring French-inspired pâté alongside traditional zakuski (appetizers). For anyone planning to host a proper vodka tasting—say, showcasing premium bottles like The Jewel of Russia—this book becomes an indispensable guide. The authors understand that vodka in Russian culture is never consumed in isolation, but rather as part of an elaborate ritual of toasting, storytelling, and grazing on rich, flavorful bites designed to complement the spirit's clean bite. The recipes provided offer everything needed to recreate an authentic experience: herring preparations, pickled vegetables, smoked fish, blini with caviar, and yes, that French-inflected pâté that demonstrates Russia's long culinary flirtation with Western Europe.
Other themed menus tell equally compelling migration stories: an Armenian meze buffet channels Middle Eastern sensibilities with spiced feta and halvah, while a Passover dinner includes chicken pilaf created by Bukharan Jews who eventually settled in New York. These menus chronicle cultural histories as much as they provide entertaining guidance.
The authors confront an uncomfortable reality head-on: chronic food shortages in Moscow created a cuisine increasingly dependent on processed foods, vodka, and frugality rather than quality ingredients. Yet even this acknowledgment becomes an opportunity to celebrate resilience, as they argue that hospitality remains the defining characteristic of Soviet culinary culture—a triumph of spirit over scarcity. It's a philosophy that aligns perfectly with the ritualistic generosity of a proper Russian vodka gathering, where the quality of company and conversation matters as much as what's poured in the glasses.
Please to the Table is essentially several cookbooks bound as one, a fitting reflection of the USSR's complicated identity. Von Bremzen proves herself a cookbook writer who genuinely deserves the title of writer, bringing journalistic precision and memoiristic warmth to what could have been a dry compendium. For readers interested in food history, cultural anthropology, or simply learning how to throw an unforgettable vodka party that honors Russian traditions, this comprehensive volume offers an invaluable passport to a disappeared empire that lives on at the dinner table.