Connecting Through Food
Originally published in our third print issue, Anna Širjajeva & Ellen Vanderhoven discuss how food helped them to connect during the pandemic and share their favourite recipe for rosols salad.
Photo: Alexander Hoyles
By Anna Širjajeva & Ellen Vanderhoven
When lockdown was introduced last March, like many people making the first tentative steps towards a relationship, we had to choose between moving in together or spending weeks, if not months apart. In a matter of days, we went from casual dating to living and working together 24/7.
With empty social calendars and screen-frazzled brains, food and cooking took on a new importance. A steady supply of bread, cakes, stews, pies and sauces emanated from the kitchen as planning and making increasingly elaborate meals became a way to structure and fill our time. It also helped us learn more about each other’s cultures and past experiences as we got to know one another.
Anna grew up in Riga, Latvia, where the local cuisine is infused with German, Russian, Scandinavian and Eastern European influences, while Ellen is from London, her tastes shaped by the city’s global outlook as well as years spent living in France and Spain. Taking it in turns to prepare meals and swap recipes opened up new culinary horizons for each of us. Even more so, it brought about new conversations. Each meal shared would provide a window into the words, idioms, histories, memories and emotions that make up our lives and identities.
For Anna, a steaming bowl of pelmeņi (pork dumplings) and sour cream would evoke memories of after-school snacks with an old friend, prompting a long-overdue video call. Bubbling batches of damson jam would remind Ellen of gathering fruits from the family garden every autumn, in turn delighting Anna’s parents when a jar of the homemade, unknown-fruit jam arrived in the post.
Hunting down ingredients also became an important pastime. Thanks to the incredible diversity of food shops in Govanhill, particularly Eastern European stores, we were able to source everything we needed to prepare classic Latvian meals and experiment beyond our culinary comfort zones.
Bucuresti Magazin (14 Dixon Avenue), Transylvania Shop & Coffee (462 Victoria Road) and Polish Daisy (77 Calder Street) became firm favourites for the acquisition of sour cream, fresh dill, briny pickles, zaļie zirnīši (conserved peas) and toasted buckwheat that are Latvian staples. Buckwheat is such a cornerstone of cooking in Latvia that during lockdown, it flew off shop shelves there as fast as toilet paper did here.
As travel to Latvia was impossible, celebrating festivals with traditional food became a way for Anna to stay connected to home, and for Ellen to explore the culture, customs and people of a country she couldn't visit. Easter called for the customary activity of lieldienu olu krāsošana, or Easter egg colouring, when we used grains, leaves and natural dye made of onion skins to decorate hard-boiled eggs. After slicking the finished eggs with butter to make the intricate patterns shine, we had an egg fight much like a British game of conkers.
For Līgo, the Latvian summer solstice, there were plump, salty pirādzinji – mini pasties stuffed with smoked bacon, steamed sauerkraut or creamy mushrooms, perfect enjoyed with an ice-cold beer. Anna shared stories about cherished pagan midsummer traditions, like making flower crowns and singing round the bonfire. The first hot days of summer called for aukstā zupa (cold beetroot soup), while the long dark evenings of winter were warmed with frikedeļu zupa (meatball soup).
Once lovingly prepared, we always send photos of our dishes to family back home, although it often feels bittersweet to only share a meal in the digital realm. While Latvia might have dominated the holidays, Ellen also had her chance to share some family traditions. Whelks and cockles weren’t such a big hit, but kedgeree, pumpkin pie and slow-cooked brisket proved popular. The year closed with rich mulled wine, a brandy-soaked Christmas pudding sent by Ellen’s parents, and Anna’s first Christmas cracker.
While the last year has been challenging and taken away many of the things we love, it has also pushed us to explore new things. Food has expanded to fill the spaces left by other interests that are no longer accessible and has become one of our most reliable sources of joy, relaxation and creativity. It’s helped us to stay connected with family and our local community, become closer to each other, and delve into our own individual memories through different dishes and recipes. Best of all, we have created new traditions for our shared home along the way.
There’s one recipe that has become a firm favourite of ours all year round. Perhaps not the most fashionable or good-looking dish, rosols salad is an essential part of any special occasion in Latvia; Anna’s mum makes it every time she goes home, as a welcome-back treat. Also known as Olivier salad (салат оливье in Russian), rosols has evolved from its roots as an elite foodstuff served to the Russian bourgeoisie in prestigious Moscow restaurants to a much more humble, everyday dish. While recipes vary from country to country and from family to family, the dish is a beloved classic throughout Eastern Europe, used to celebrate birthdays, the New Year, weddings, and funerals.
This recipe is vegetarian, but you can make it meaty by adding some chopped doktordesa (boiled sausage, or literally, “doctor’s sausage”) or smoked pork. It’s best served with dark, dense rye bread and unsalted butter, or alongside marinated herring. We like to eat ours with tangy kūpinātām vistiņām (smoked chicken).
Rosols or Olivier Salad
Ingredients:
4-5 medium potatoes (waxy, if possible)
2-3 carrots
4 pickled cucumbers/gherkins (make sure they’re in brine, not vinegar)
4 tbsp of zaļie zirnīši (jarred peas in brine, available in most Eastern European shops)
3 eggs
3 tbsp mayonnaise
3 tbsp sour cream (18% fat or higher)
Salt & Pepper
Dijon-style mustard
A handful of fresh dill and flat-leaf parsley
Preparation:
Place the carrots and potatoes in a pan, cover with cold water and bring to the boil. Simmer until soft. In another pan, hard boil the eggs (approx. 10 minutes).
Set the vegetables aside to cool. Once cool enough to handle, use your fingers to peel off the skins. Chop the veg into small cubes approx. ½ cm across and place them in a large salad bowl.
Finely chop the eggs and add them to the bowl. If you're using meat, you can add the chopped pieces at this point.
Drain the peas and pickles then chop the pickles into small cubes to match the vegetables. Add both to the bowl.
Add the mayonnaise and sour cream to the bowl. Mix well.
Add salt, pepper, and mustard to taste.
Leave the salad to rest in the fridge for a couple of hours.
Garnish with the dill and parsley. Serve cold.
You could try adding fresh cucumbers for a lighter taste, or grated horseradish for an extra kick. The salad can be stored in the fridge, in an airtight container, for up to three days.
Rosols, Rasols jeb Olivjē salāti
Sastāvdaļas:
4 vidēja izmēra kartupeļi
2 burkāni
5 skābēti vai marinēti gurķi
5 ēdamkarotes zaļo zirnīšu
3 olas
2 ēdamkarotes majonēzes
2 ēdamkarotes skābā krējuma
Sāls
Melnie pipari
Sinepes
Dilles un pētersīļi
Sanāks viena liela un garda salātu bļoda!
Pagatavošana:
Kartupeļus un burkānus liek katlā, pielej ūdeni un vāra kamēr mīksti. Citā katliņā liek olas, pielej ūdeni un vāra lai cietas (aptuveni 10 minūtes).
Kad kartupeļi un burkāni ir gatavi, nolej ūdeni un atstāj atdzesēties. Pēc tam, kartupeļus un burkānus nomizo, sagriež tos mazos gabaliņos (apmēram ½ cm lielumā) un liek bļodā.
Smalki sagriež olas un liek tās klāt. Ja gribas izmantot gaļu vai desu, to var pievienot šajā stadijā.
Kāt liek zaļos zirnīšus, un smalki sagrieztus gurķīšus.
Pieliek majonēzi un skābo krējumu, tad kārtīgi samaisa.
Pieliek sāli, piparus un sinepes pēc garšas.
Salātus atstāj ievilkties uz pāris stundām ledusskapī.
Rotā ar svaigām dillēm un pētersīļiem. Pasniedz aukstus.
Ja ir vēlme, var pievienot arī svaigu gurķi, vai mārrutkus. Rosolu var uzglabāt ledusskapī 3 dienas, vislabāk uzglabāt hermētiskā traukā.
Labu apetīti!