About a year ago I noticed that M&M’s were in our local supermarket. Craving many things American, I of course bought a bag. Truly delicious.

I put a bag in the fridge – but it ended up altering the taste a bit. For whatever reason (moisture ?) they weren’t quite the same when they warmed up again. So, I bought another bag. In fact, I’ve purchased quite a few 400g bags – which may explain (in addition to the beer consumption) why I’ve gained like 10 kg in the last 2 years. More or less, I always have a bag above the microwave.

Besides the point…

So I’ve purchased quite a few bags of M&M’s in my time (in my 5th decade of life already: where does the time go?). At first I thought nothing of the occasional strangely shaped chocolate treat. They were all the usual brown, red, yellow, green, and orange. Come to think of it, I’m not sure if there are any blue ones in the Ukrainian bags.

Nope. I just checked.

This is what I’m talking about:

Note: The upper M&M is a fully-coated, mis-shapen chunk of chocolate. I’ve got no issues with mutants. After all, we are all mutants in one way or another – and I am quite obviously a mutant (I won’t expand on this, but some of you may know what I’m talking about). So what’s the deal? Why are these so prevalent?

No, I haven’t counted them, enacted any clarifying statistical analyses, performed any unusual tests, etc – nor does it keep me up at night (in case you were wondering). But it IS a strange thing. I’m telling you!

As another proof of principle – I (just moments ago) performed another random test while checking to see if there were any blue M&M’s (though I was pretty sure there weren’t). Hang on… why AREN’T there any blue ones? I think there are still blue ones in America, right?  Racist bastards. Anti-M&Mites. Segregationists. Damn it.

Whatever. Well – not that my blatant and limited query of the quantitative M&M distribution is conclusive or anything… but I think there are more than the average number of mutants in Ukrainian bags. So I’m actually appealing (of course, I haven’t appealed yet, but I will) to you – the world wide web public – to tell me me if this happens elsewhere?

Regardless, and with this said, when looking for the blue M&M’s (as mentioned above), I reached in and subsequently pulled out another completely random [small] handful. In fact, it was only 10 M&M’s. What do you know – 2 of them are unusual. For you engineers, rocket scientists, mathemeticians, and brain surgeons out there – that would imply that 20% of our Ukrainian M&M’s are abnormal. OK – so this is not quite representative, but…

Voila!

It illustrated my point perfectly!

Another clear example of what I’m talking about. Though I didn’t spend time configuring the M&M’s in my palm, you can see that the red one has a well-defined flat side. But more obvious is the green one directly below the red one. The green one is nearly cut in half – AND it is a smaller diameter. You cannot tell by the picture, but it is NOT broken: it is fully coated with green hard candy casing. Ha-Haaaaa! Vindication in the first handful of the not-so-official test.

So -

My theory:

That mutant M&M’s are intentionally trafficked to 3rd world countries because the residents there don’t know what a near perfect bag of M&M’s should look like.

Yes. There. I said it. You may be laughing. You may think I’m crazy. You may thing that’s ludicrous, preposterous, inflammatory, ridiculous, insighting, obnoxious, and a cause for candy wars – but it’s my blog, and that’s what I think.

It’s pretty simple really – I believe that there is, without a doubt, a higher proportion of cut, broken, squared, tiny, dimpled, skinny, unmarked, puny, small asteroid shaped pseudo-M&M’s in the bags sold here in Ukraine than in the USA. I base this belief on many, many years (decades actually) of loving M&M’s – and eating them regularly in America. In the past year or so I have noticed an extremely high proportion of mutant M&M’s. For sure. Without question.

Now I’m not saying that I’m a professional M&M inspector or anything, but I have a pretty good eye for detail. I’ve never noticed such a phenomenon (peculiarly mishapen candies in a bag of M&M’s) like that which I have noticed here in Ukraine. So what’s the deal. Ukraine isn’t as sophisticated, culinarily-confectionarily speaking? Is that it – you American pigs? (Damn, did I just say that).

Well fine – I did. I’m an American, and I love America. But shipping all the unwanted, poor old mutant M&M’s to Ukraine (and presumably elsewhere – but I have no evidence for this – please do not bombard me with requests backing up my claims). Seriously. Did Mars, Incorporated think that we wouldn’t notice? There are roughly 15,000 Americans in Ukraine (yes, I just found this out due to a recent July 4 artical in the Kyiv Post – which I read like once a year) – and Mars, Inc. didn’t think one of us would notice and raise the alarm bells? I’m going to write to the Ambassador and lodge a formal complaint.

Hahahahahaha – gotcha. I wouldn’t do that – because I’m going to meet the Ambassador tomorrow – I can tell him straight to his face. Hahahaha… just kidding again – I would never do such a thing.  But I thought about it (obviously).

I have to state, for the record, that the mutants don’t taste any different. I performed a semi-blind taste test and can verify that they do, in fact, taste the same as the others. HOWEVER, I might note that because they are smaller, there seems to be a larger amount of candy coating relative to the inner chocolate – and that does impart a slightly different texture to the candy.

Well look – I’m also a businessman, and I understand that waste not want not. If you throw candy away, you are losing profits. But man – why not just spread out the mutants to everyone in the world. It would probably average out to only 1 (at most) in every bag. Why are there 10% mutants (intentionally inflammatory statement here) in Ukrainian bags?  Is America saying Ukrainians won’t notice it? Ukrainians will take whatever America gives to her? Ukrainians don’t care about what they eat?  What???

Alrighty – back to work.

If anyone has any real evidence of other countries being the unknowing recipients of M&M’s of second-rate, imperfect, or theoretically undesirable (particularly to the perfection-demanding American public) quality… please post a comment!

Hmmm… I wonder if putting them on top of the microwave might be doing something to the ?    

Best,

Snotty

Credit to the sources: M&M’s homepage and M&M’s Wikipedia

“I have to laugh…” as Bill Murray famously said…

To set the stage… a few weeks ago my MIL was over at our house, and was hungry (as usual). I wasn’t here, so this comes to me via my wife – but because I keep thinking about it, and I chuckle each and every time – I figured I should share it with y’all.

Also, important to remember is the fact that my MIL speaks virtually no English. Meaning that she reads and writes none as well.

Anyhow… there was some leftover rice in the fridge. My wife said to Mom that she should just put some soy sauce on the warmed rice, and it’ll be a fine snack. Bear in mind, Ukrainians don’t really use soy sauce. So they aren’t overly familiar with the stuff. In fact, for the longest time we couldn’t find any at the market(s), and when we finally did, it was outrageously expensive. So, we brought a gallon from the USA about a year ago, and still have about half left.

I mention this because we refill our soy sauce bottle as needed from the plastic gallon jug. But of course, it’s not really a “soy sauce bottle,” because we bought the gallon size Costco-style jug. So we put it into an olive oil bottle, which just so happens to have a little plastic top on it – resembling (though not really) a typical soy sauce bottle top restrictor, so you don’t flood your rice/food with salty brew.

So here they are – the two bottles:

Fish and Soy - marriage made in heaven.

You know where I’m going with this, don’t you?

You can kinda see where the old Sharpie text is on the label of the olive oil – saying “Soy Sauce.” Barely. But hey, it’s our kitchen, and we know which is which and what is what. Plus, we know what Soy Sauce looks and smells like. Doesn’t everyone?

Unfortunately my mother-in-law doesn’t. She can’t read English, so the “Fish Sauce” was “Greek” to her. My wife said to just sprinkle some soy on her warm rice, and it’ll be fine.

Wouldn’t you know it… she sprinkled the rice with Fish Sauce!!!  Well… more like doused.

The funniest part about this episode was that she knew it tasted funny. But she didn’t know why. And she figured that it must be “normal” tasting, because she has seen us do this many, many times. So… fine… (she said to herself)… I’m just gonna eat it.

And she did. The whole bowl. Nasty ass fish sauce poured all over her re-heated rice. Damn it man, it makes me want to vomit just writing this blog about it.

Do you all know what Fish Sauce smells like? Total fish puke, wrapped in fish skin, fermented in fish crap, and mixed with a little fish piss. No kidding. It’s hard for me to get close to the stuff.

And she ate a WHOLE BOWL of rice covered in Fish Sauce!

On top of it, even though she knew it tasted “funny,” she didn’t want to throw it away! So she kept going.  A bowl of rice – which costs pennies. I understand not wanting to waste anything, but seriously….

“Funny?”  There’s nothing funny about eating straight fish sauce. Damn it. I think I might just puke thinking about it. I’m laughing, but crying at the same time. Totally gnarly. Totally.

OK, actually, it is quite funny.

Can’t get it outta my head!!!

Best,

Snotty

I’ve been traveling a bit, and I’ve seen a restaurant (chain) in Ukraine. There aren’t a lot of them, but I’ve seen a couple. They are called:

CCCP

Now, I’ve always known this as “C” “C” “C” “P”. Yet, the funniest thing happened the other day, and I had an epiphany regarding the spelling (born out of my naivety about the spelling).

To the average English speaker this spelling appears perfectly “normal” (standard). But it just so happens that these are also standard Cyrillic letters. In the Russian alphabet there are 36 letters, and the majority (or at least it seems like the majority) of them look different to Latin characters. But in Cyrillic, “CCCP” actually transliterates to “SSSR” (Latin).

CCCP stands for “Союз Советских Социалистических Республик”

Again, when transliterated, it would look (in Latin) like SSSR. When translated, it turns into USSR due to it being the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

I guess I find it funny that I always thought of the Soviet Union as the U.S.S.R., and I always wondered why it had also been occasionally (in my part of the world) referred to as CCCP. I figured CCCP was Russian, but I didn’t know why or how it translated. I suppose I would have expected CCCP to LOOK different if it were written in Russian (Cyrillic letters)… but alas, it does not – and the characters look “normal” to me.

Are you seeing where I’m going, or am I losing you?

Anyhow… the funny part of this story is that I openly displayed my ignorance in front of some Ukrainians (this, after being here nearly 3 years): I said “How about we go to the “C” “C” “C” “P” Cafe for lunch. The Ukrainians looked at me — obviously, and COMPLETELY, confused. You could see in their eyes that this stimulated persistent signaling from one side of their brains to the other – like an Olympic ping pong match – over and over again: they just couldn’t figure out what in the world I was talking about. Literally 10-15 seconds later……….  someone finally put it together.

“Oh, you mean ‘SSSR’ Cafe.” And I said, “no, I mean ‘CCCP’.” Again they looked at me puzzled… and after about 5 seconds I realized my complete and utterly embarrassing blunder – I felt like a total idiot. You know… one of those frail moments that strikes usually capable individuals every now and again – and you realize you have just made a complete fool of yourself in front of people you would really rather have not done that in front of.

I didn’t put together that    CCCP = SSSR.

With good reason, this has turned into a long-standing joke, and even the Ukrainians for the rest of the ~2 week trip began referring to the Cafe as “CCCP”.  Each time they said it, they laughed, and then looked at me.

Fantastic. I love that feeling. A(nother) Stupid American in a [former] Soviet country – sounding like an idiot.

Ahhhhhh……….

I suppose everyone has silly moments. This was definitely one of mine…

I caught four random individuals standing in front of the CCCP Cafe

We just opened a jar of tomato juice, and I just wanted to share the flavor…

Rich, aromatic, full-bodied, chunky, sweet, pulpy, ruthlessly red with off-yellow seeds, and very-very healthy. I could taste it. Anyone could taste it. It is undeniable. So fresh and alive, it’s easy to tell that it leads to good life.

It contained nothing but tomatoes: crushed from our own vines, and canned according to ancient Ukrainian tradition. OK, I made that part up – but it sounded good. I’m sure it’s just ancient tradition that has been (also) passed down, generation to generation, in this Ukrainian locale.

It was real, it was wow, it was freshly delicious – without a doubt, there’s nothing malicious. Chilled in the refrigerator and straight into a glass – it tasted as if we had canned some pizzazz. It didn’t need pepper, didn’t need salt, didn’t need sugar, and definitely not malt. No additives, no preservatives, not fortified, not mortified. It was sunshine in a glass – pure – with class.

I have to admit that I noted some impurities. Actually… perhaps, there were small specks of dirt-uities. Nope, there was not grit or crunching – thankfully – just a few tiny black flecks, for palatable munching.

My wife said it was flavor, and I believe her.

So fresh, so real, so full of life… should I have more?

I think I just might…….

Long live the помидор

Recently my son has been eating real food. We give him blended mixes of all kinds of stuff: meats/vegetables, fruits, etc… (consequently, things have really begun to smell – but that’s for another day).

Unfortunately he doesn’t always want to eat. Well… even when he does, there comes a point where he simply, without warning (generally), decides NO MORE. This is the first indication that The Hand is about to be unleashed.

Because we want him to grow up strong and healthy, we generally force-feed him the rest of his food whenever possible. It has nothing to do with my wife painstakingly slaving in the kitchen to produce this gustatory bambino delicacy. Really – we do NOT use the turkey baster on him more than once a week.

But seriously folks, we don’t like wasting food – and that really fresh stuff just doesn’t seem to last all that long. Moreover he definitely likes the fresh food more than anything that’s been stored – so we try to get him to eat it all when it’s fresh. When he does finish it, it’s a BIG молод`ец! (Well Done!).

Still… we’ve come to notice a consistent pattern. He stops being interested in the food unless you distract him with something else – at which point the innate feeding behavior returns for another bite or two. But then, it’s…

Resistance!

Inevitably he begins to resist. We counter-attack.

This leads to rubbing of the eyes (глаза), and concomitant blocking of the mouth (рот) (pronounced rrot).

At the first sign of weakness, we again try to slip the spoon in – perhaps after a 10 second lull in the fun and games, and while faux posturing as if we wouldn’t dare try to feed him even one more bite – we usually try one more time.

If we are very lucky, we get ONE MORE scoop in.

But then watch out…

The next attempt will be countered by a right cross, that not only takes out the spoon, but leaves the food that was on the spoon strewn about. Now this, in and of itself, wouldn’t be so impressive or hazardous, because the food stops moving – and in this case, the good eats are easy to clean up.

Unfortunately for us, our son (as I imagine most other babies) has become an expert at precisely hitting the spoon (almost while looking the other direction), splashing food all around the table, and still, miraculously, keeping at least 1/2 of the food somewhere on his hand. And Voila… we have…

Hand on the Loose!

This hand is now capable of contaminating: the chair, the face, his clothes, the table, his hair, the cat, your glasses, your clothes, your hair, the walls, the floor (not the ceiling yet, thankfully), your food, his eyes, your face, the couch, numerous toys within reach, seat cushions, windows, mirrors, and everything else you forget to keep at least one foot away. He flails – We counter. He whines – we grab a napkin. He screams – we go back and forth trying to catch… the Hand on the Loose.

I now think he simply likes the battle. He thinks it’s a game. Thinking to himself, “why should I eat that when I can play with it for at least 30 more seconds!”  To add insult to “injury,” more recently I’ve noticed that Mikey has become more calculated in his decision making – often waiting for that moment when Daddy tries to deliver a really big spoonful, so that the precious offspring can really get a full handful of ammunition…

Ahh… the joys of fatherhood. How can you resist that face

It's hard to tell, but it's blurry due to the food on the mirror...

So it’s a beautiful day in Kyiv. Well, maybe I can say that because I like the snow. But the trees aren’t very happy. On my short walk into work, around and between the brick an mortar domiciles which represent older Kyiv (as opposed to the new fancy storefronts that line many of the streets downtown), there were 2 trees that fell. The Kyiv Post story is here.

Sure it was windy, and we got about 6-8 inches of heavy snow. But trees falling down? Yes, sure, I know it goes hand in hand with precarious weather… but I never thought the trees right out in front of our building would be falling down. Shows you what I know…

The snow was apparently really heavy (wet). As it piled higher and heavier onto the leafless branches, and in combination with the soggy ground surrounding the unseen part of the tree, gravity and wind took caused havoc. I’ll try to post some pictures later, if I can get them off of my phone.

Of course, this didn’t stop the now 2-day tradition taking place in the small “parklet” (a wanna be park in front of our building). There were 5-6 individuals today (only 3 yesterday) partaking in breakfast. It was difficult to tell if they were eating anything, but the [first] bottle of vodka was about 2/3 empty. Ahhhh…. the holidays.

* * *

That reminds me of another little story that took place a couple of weeks ago. We had a little get-together at our house for my wife’s birthday on a Saturday evening. A boyfriend (who is a driver) of one of my wife’s grade school friends tagged along. I will focus on him, as it was his behavior was most captivating. He strolled in, in his mild-mannered demeanor, and made himself at home – playing with Mikey at every opportunity. It was a welcome reprieve for my wife and I, and Mikey seemed to like him too. Within 5 minutes he (let’s call him Alex) asked “do you have any vodka?” I said “sure,” pulled an ever-so-slightly acquainted bottle out of the freezer, and offered a shot glass in tow. To make a long story short, over the next 3 hours Alex drank 2/3 of a bottle of vodka. NO problem. His girlfriend said “oh, he really likes vodka.”

What?

How can anyone “really like vodka?”

I’m guessing he likes getting pissed as a sailor on leave (every night he’s not driving, and some nights when he is) more than he likes “vodka.” Anyhow, the only scary part was the fact that he was playing with Mikey more and more as the vodka took effect. Granted, the effect was not as dramatic as it would have been for those of use not constantly maintaining upregulated alcohol dehydrogenase levels, but it was still apparent. He was getting drunk. And the more he did so, the more he wanted to play with Mikey, and the less he wanted to talk to adults.

It was one of those bizarre, somewhat socially uncomfortable situations where you want to interrupt and take your child back – but it would be incredibly insulting, potentially damaging to a very long-standing relationship, and potentially unnecessary (as long as Mikey is not being lofted around the room as if he were manning his own private aircraft – which he did, occasionally). Nevertheless, after several glances with the wife, I chose to hold Mikey for a while. Then she did – and then I did again.

The [not so] funny part is that this is normal behavior for lots of Russians. They drink a LOT… and it is totally normal to drink whole bottles. Crazy.

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while, but just never got around to saying it.

Short and sweet… Here I go.

THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS A SIX-PACK

(6-PACK, 12-PACK, CASE, or otherwise…)

OF BEER IN UKRAINE.

It’s the strangest thing. I mean, I would think that it would foster higher beer consumption when you bundle beers together, no? It should lead to more beer being sold, no? Not to mention the basic fact that using a bit of cardboard to bundle beers together makes them SIGNIFICANTLY easier to carry and transport.

Instead, every beer is sold individually. I’m not kidding! And they sell minis (0.3L), standards (0.5L), large (1.0L), and very large (2.0L) beers.

Instead of this:

You have this:

Strange. Really. Especially because there is so much beer being consumed.

I see a business opportunity here.

Maybe someone else knows something about the market that I don’t.

So I was in my room, in my new apartment, with both my wife and my baby. It was time to feed Mikey, and we were laying on the bed.

All of a sudden, we hear our new fancy-shmancy stove beep at us. But wait, we are all in the room – what the ?

Our new stove top is smart like Einstein. It knows when something inappropriate is on the stove. Strange, but true. Even if it isn’t hot, somehow the stove senses it (it’s one of those electric stoves with a completely flat top surface).

So my wife goes to check it out, and jokes that it’s the cat. What do you know, it WAS the cat. Whitey, you little Devil!

But why? Oh yeah… the pan of fried chicken that’s sitting open on the stove.

She shrieked.

And then after I inquired as to what had happened, she said:

“it WAS Whitey!”

“… and now he’s licking his chops!”

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve seen food out on the counter. Countless. And now all I can think about is how many times the damn cat was licking our food when we didn’t even know it.

Damn it!

I’ve told (asked)  them (wife and MIL) a “million times.” Don’t leave food out in the open, please. It’s a weird thing – the Ukrainians cook and then just leave the food, sitting there, cooling, cold, frozen, etc… In America, we generally cook and clean up not toooo long afterward, and store it in the fridge.

Anyhow, I want to strangle him — but after all — it’s really our fault. I’m just trying my best right now to not think too much about all the food that my cat has likely enjoyed before me. Ugh!!!

Tonight’s post,

all about dinner.

Not too exciting, but it turned out pretty tasty. A big thank you goes out to Francia for her assistance!

I had to take a video too…

[flashvideo file=videos/dinner.flv /]

Oh, and one more pic while eating. With a nice cold beer and a slice of bread, it was par excellence!

Cheers!

I’m sorry, but you couldn’t pay me enough to take this job. Sure, I understand that some people are so “down and out” that any job is a good job. Butt really, spending your days in a toilet? Even if it’s the beginning of your life and you are saving money to buy that new toy you want. Even worse, when it’s the twilight of your life… why would someone take this job?

And when I say toilet, I have to clarify. No, this isn’t a nice hotel, restaurant, or theater, where a courteous gentleman or woman in official dress offers to dry your hands or provide you with a squirt of perfume or cologne (perhaps for a dollar) before returning to your seat. Nope. This is a toilet (туалет) that rarely has paper, that may have dividers, that may include porcelain, is generally enclosed without windows, exudes gag-provoking fecal fumes, encourages “no contact” behavior, and sometimes has sufficient lighting to see what you are doing. Then, to add insult to bladder-bursting injury… you have to pay for it.

Butt wait, you cannot simply place a coin in a jar. Someone would steal it… duh! There is actually someone who spends the better part of their waking day (dare I say life) collecting about 15 cents from each customer, per use of the “facility.” Well, unless I feel that I’m about to cause irreversible, irrevocable damage to critical internal organs, I will not pay for a toilet. Something seems wrong about living in a city where people pay taxes and having to pay again to do something that everyone has to do (by design) every single day of their lives. I’d much rather use the need to use the restroom as a good excuse to grab a drink in a local shop that has a bathroom for it’s customers. I guess not everyone can or want to spend money like that.

Nevertheless, when one’s wife is well into her pregnancy, requiring the use of a restroom every hour or two (tops), there are inevitably going to be times when even this place appears like a gold mine. I thought it might be worthy of a picture.

In fact, this was one of the nicer establishments I’ve seen. But when my wife left the corrugated metal enclave, she looked as though she was about to vomit – and not, she wasn’t about to go back inside to do it.

[flashvideo file=videos/toilet.FLV /]

A waddling market goer.

I also began thinking about the money exchange taking place inside. This, I’m afraid, is just wrong. It goes against human nature, I think. One wants to bury the leaves they used to wipe their ass, not use them as “change for a 20.” Talk about speading “germs.” And then I was thinking… the person in the toilet must actually be responsible for cleaning, to some extent. Gnarly.

My advice: Make sure you always carry exact change!

Or, just consider your overpayment a donation to the cause…

I’ve heard that the plastic bag is the bane of some scenic landscapes in this part of the world. I’m sure it must be really bad in some places. Here in Kiev, everyone uses plastic bags, every day, in every way. Of course they are used for garbage, and for containing leaking fluids, among the millions of other uses. And yes, there are plenty of bags floating around without an owner. Fortunately, people often DO recycle plastic bags here, but still, they escape their hominid owners all too often, and drift away in the wind, only to be caught by a tree branch, lay in a gutter, or be collected and subsequently discarded again because it was deemed to be incompetent and/or wortheless. It’s sad, but I’ve witnessed the forests being littered with plastic bags. People here don’t really care for the environment, if you didn’t know. Not sure exactly why. But I guess if I think more about it, there’s all kinds of undesirable crap that people leave in in the forests (and elsewhere). And from that perspective, plastic bags aren’t a big deal, really.

Nevertheless, my primary experience with them is that they cut into my fingers when carrying 10+ kilos of foodstuffs back from the market. And I’m sure I’m not the only one. We don’t have a car! So whatever we wanna eat or whatever we need for our home, we gotta carry. Whenever we leave the house, one of the most common departure questions is “did you grab any bags?” Anyway, going to the market is a daily routine, for the most part. Sometimes it’s just for a light bulb, maybe some dairy and bread, or perhaps just a bit of cat food… but other times we end up loading up. For these outings, one either needs to have SOLIDLYconstructed plastic bags on hand, or an efficient way of carrying multiple bags. If desperate, you can always buy a bag at the market (for cheap), as you might have already guessed.

Anyhow, I’ve learned, even during the summer, that the best way to prevent spilled blood is to keep a pair of gloves with me at all times. Otherwise the time spent in the market, in addition to the time it takes to walk the >0.5km home will leave it’s mark on the skin covering your phalanges. I keep thinking that there needs to be a small, easy to stow, sturdy handle that would facilitate carrying bags, without losing a finger. More accurately, it would prevent circulation loss, tenderness, insensitivity, and freezing of your digits.

Any way you look at it though, the plastic bag is here to stay. My only real complaint now is that I’m carrying too much weight. Actually and to be totally honest (sort of), my arms have begun to hurt. I had my wife take a picture of me after we walked in the door last time…

For a while I was thinking that the bags’ handles were stretching. The bags seem to be scraping along the ground once in a while. After seeing the picture, I’m starting to think that I’m really developing a problem. My arms — they’re getting longer. Does it look weird? Am I imagining it? That would explain the tingling, the sensation loss, the lack of blood flow… YIKES

I don’t know what to say, but she just doesn’t stop…

She’s not gaining any weight (above and beyond what is natural for a pregnant woman), but it is starting to make me kind of sick watching my wife eat, and eat, and eat… and eat. Fine, fine… I’m exaggerating, but it’s my blog.

The main thing, now, is that I’ve noticed that she eats more than me. Yes, she has now surpassed my ability and/or desire to consume foodstuffs.

Her appetite has really flourished in the last week or so. She’s about 7 months pregnant. The baby is supposed to be putting on about ~25g a day, for the next six weeks or so. So eating seems like a natural and absolutely healthy aspect of the baby’s growth and a healthy woman’s pregnancy. So it’s needed, and I’m not complaining – but this is truly different from her usual appetite.

But damn…

Morning – black tea with tvarog with jam and walnuts
Post breakfast – a tangerine
Mid-morning snack – a few slices of cheese and a slice of black bread
Pre-lunch – a chocolate chip cookie, half an apple, and some yogurt
Lunch – some veal marinated with garlic and rosemary (1/4 lb)
Post-lunch – a small bowl of freshly prepared Plov (with veal)
Dinner (brother stopped by) – a second bowl of Plov
Dinner – a third bowl of Plov (oh, and just another scoop for good measure)
Post-dinner – half a tangerine and tea
Desert — one of the largest pomegranates I’ve ever seen

One thing’s for sure, the baby is eating well too
(fine, I embellished ever so slightly, but the truth is there in black and white – and I’m just surprised by how much she’s puttin’ down)

Actually, it’s kinda cute… I hope she doesn’t take offense, and I hope mom and baby are happy, healthy, and satisfied.

So, I’ve heard of wooden spoons. Particularly popular in midieval times… but wooden forks? Yeah, yeah… sure, sure… of course there are wooden forks, and wooden knives (I think).

But have you ever used a wooden fork?

No, not the big kind for mixing a large salad… and not the pseudo-fork that you use or stirring a pot of spaghetti. I’m talkin’ a regular old fork.

^ ^ ^

Well, we have two of them, and we use them regularly. My only fear is what I know about bacteria. What grows between the tines? What grows in the wooden crevices within the superficial/exposed plant fibers? Especially knowing how my mother-in-law washes dishes, this becomes a semi-serious health concern.

But, in the end, I use it occassionally. I had never used one before, I don’t think. Sure, I’m guessing that they are normal practice in many parts of the world, but since metal (or plastic) forks have become common utensils in the USA, I’ve never seen an actual wooden one.

Yep, they serve it everywhere. It’s called Pivo. And they drink it like it’s water.

I snapped this picture at a little varenikey joint, but they also sell it at McDonalds.

I couldn’t agree more!

Some things should be changed in America: "Skip the fast food, I'll have a Slavutich on tap, please."

I was taken back by what I saw at the market today. Sure, continuing commerce is obviously a necessary part of “market life,” but seeing the massive hunk of meat was a bit surprising. I guess I’m more used to seeing it all chopped up.
A single man, obviously under strain, was carrying an entire side of beef (the torso of half a cow) through the middle of a crowded open air market – heading for the МЯСО (meat) shop.

I don’t know why I was so surprised, but just seeing half of a cow propped up on this guy’s shoulder, and watching it bob up and down ever so slightly in tune with the man’s strained gait, was, well … awesome. The market-goers parted like the Red Sea as the side o’ beef approached its final resting place.

Sorry, no pic of the side of beef… but trust me, it was awesome.

I think the main difference is that in the USA there would be a delivery truck pulling up to the rear of the market at daybreak, and using a dolly or a forklift, or at least one or two additional helping pairs of hands, the hunk-o’-meat would be transferred directly to the butcher’s freezer.

Thought I’d share that with you.

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As an afterthought, I decided to give you some idea of what the meat markets look like here. These are the places where almost everyone buys their meat. Sure, sure… you can go to the supermarket and get it — and increasing numbers of people are doing so. However, the meat is not nearly as fresh (as you can imagine), and the prices are generally a bit higher. But hey, anything that is remotely “Western,” culturally speaking, is (more or less) a success here. Thus, Western-style pre-packaging and shelf display with individual price-tags is making headway into the cultural landscape.
Anyway, I guess I find a bit of fascination with seeing the meat out in the open air. I don’t know why, but I do. No, no, no, no NO. NOT in a perverse way, you freak. I think it comes from having taught anatomy for 7 years as a grad student. Once in a while I take pictures. Here are some examples (though I try to be sly, sometimes I just break out the camera and don’t give a damn). The vendors (frequently heavy-set ladies in their 40′s-50′s) just look at me kinda like I’m an alien.

* Enjoy *

Obviously the picture below was taken last winter, around the holidays (actually many of them w. Yes, those are holiday decorations on the walls/ceiling. Who needs a freezer when it’s 0° outside/inside. The funny thing is that the same tables have meat on them in the height of the summer, when it’s ~40° outside/inside.    Mmmmmm, can’t you smell it?   To be fair, only the beef and pork are allowed to stay at this temperature — the chicken is [almost] always refrigerated.  Fish is hit or miss — sometimes frozen, sometimes just a headless body sitting out baking in the sun, with an old lady asking almost nothing for it.

So this woman sells chicken. Note the bare hands. Yep, all day long she grabs birds or bird parts from her fridge. Also, note that the chicken gets put on the bare metal. I bet she wipes it clean at least once a day, probably more.

Then, mmmmmm…. the fish.  I have really learned to love fish since being here. Great stuff, and all kinds. Yes, I’m even loving the sardines (albeit every sardine must be followed by a shot of vodka). Seriously, though, the smoked fish is outstanding!

Then we have rabbit. Yes, I know it’s a rabbit because they left the fur on. “Why,” you ask? Because if they didn’t leave the little furry foot it would look almost exactly like a cat. I’m sure that’s been done countless times. On the left are ducks and hens.

Probably needless to say, one of the Ukrainian favorites is sausage (колбаса). Yes, there are lots of excellent sausages. I try to find the ones with lower fat, but it ain’t easy.

more sausage…  Some we just buy for the cats (as mentioned in the Kitty post).

Oh, and сало (lard). Mmmmm… I must admit, this is pretty tasty. They prepare it in lots of ways. They love it as CHUNKS in their eggs. This, I cannot stand for. Makes me want to vomit. However, if the сало is minced with a bit of garlic, and then spread on some black bread — DAMN!   good stuff.

Often you can see the сало rolled up on tables (below). Also, there are a few rumps for sale

Finally, you have pig parts. In the center (below) is the greater omentum (a piece of belly fat that hangs off of the stomach). On the right in the back, note the butcher block with a hatchet. And just to the left of that, the pig head with the ear removed. I think the ear is just to the right of the snout. Oh, and the feet, those are at the bottom right.

What, you wanted a closer look at the head?

here’s one that was already skinned… What exactly they do with them, I’m not sure. OK, I just asked my wife: I think they make head cheese from it (DUH!). It’s a German dish, as you may know. Basically they boil it on very low heat for many hours. Then they pick off all the meat, skin, tongue, ears (if they are still there), etc… and semi-finely chop it all up. No brains though. Stick the meat/gelatin into an intestine and refrigerate it. Remove, slice, add mustard on a slice of bread – Heaven! (I’m told). — ooooh… there’s some head cheese a few pictures above, in the second sausage picture.

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Now, Enjoy your Breakfast, and get to work!