Last night, Brooke and I stopped into a Russian market about a half a mile from home. I’ve passed the place a thousand times, yet never had any particular interest in going in. But we needed some produce for dinner, traffic was terrible, and, well, there it was, so I figured we’d give it a shot.
When we got home, I texted my dad:
It was AMAZING. It’s so funny because on the one hand it feels entirely foreign, especially given that the Russian on all the packaging doesn’t even share our alphabet, but on the other hand, it’s so familiar!
We walked by rows of cheese and fruit blintzes, all different kinds of pierogis, a huge assortment of smoked fishes and chopped salads of whitefish and herring … and then the baked goods! – pumpernickel breads and flour top rolls and trays upon trays of pastries: elephant ears and…
View original post 443 more words