• Old Photos: Soviet Kindergartens

    When I was growing up© , the original political and ideological reasons for organizing preschools in the USSR were long gone and kindergartens became what they are in the rest of the world – places to drop off children while adults work. Soviet kindergartens had various quality levels – some were owned by money-rich companies with new buildings, nice personnel and good food; others were for everyone else – with cramped quarters, frustrated overworked teachers and always-present smell of burnt milk (the milk was always boiled and if you smelled burnt milk once you’ll never forget it). I was lucky to spend a few years in the former kind of kindergarten, it was very nice and not easy to get into, especially since my parents didn’t work for the company which owned it. I don’t remember much from that time, so this set of photos was a nice reminder what the kindergartens of my childhood looked like, they are taken in 1960 but little has changed when I was attending one in 1975.

    Performance dedicated to the International Women's Day
    I am pretty sure the girl on the left did something to break my wrist, starting off my streak of bad relationships with women.
    ©Time Carl Mydans
    ©Time Carl Mydans
    ©Time Carl Mydans
    Older kids hated mandatory nap-time.©Time Carl Mydans
    ©Time Carl Mydans
    ©Time Carl Mydans
    ©Time Carl Mydans
    ©Time Carl Mydans
    ©Time Carl Mydans
    ©Time Carl Mydans
    Karl Marx is overlooking the room where the future of socialism is being molded.©Time Carl Mydans
    Continue reading →
  • Been There, Had the Chicken, Lived To Tell the Story

    I just wanted to point out that I personally visited the “money laundry” (is this what it’s called?) on the Independence Avenue almost a year ago to do some investigative reporting. No big whoop…

    Continue reading →
  • Bread Follow-Up

    Since the subject of bread caused a mild interest I’d like to share a short list of bakeries that sell the real stuff.
    In Kansas City:
    Hen House at Deer Creek – I can’t find the article about the oven but if I remember correctly they invited a specialist from Europe to build a real brick oven. The bread is under Farm To Market brand but it’s baked right at the store. Fresh bread is on and behind the counter usually in open paper bags. Farm To Market bread is sold elsewhere but if you want it straight from the oven you’d have to drive to the Overland Park location. Farm To Market Cafe was recently reviewed by DLC.
    Artisan Francais is a French Bakery in Overland Park where the bread is fresh, tasty and of many varieties. It may be a little overpriced, but consider the location. Sandwiches and French pastries are “oh so good!”
    Fervere is close to downtown and if you live and work there make a note to stop by and get a loaf. They don’t serve sandwiches but you will be able to try some samples. Owner of Fervere was one of the founders of Farm To Market. Pay attention to the hours of operation, they are not open every day.

    In Lawrence:
    Wheatfileds Bakery And Cafe has a great variety of the freshest, tastiest bread around and makes a trip to Lawrence worthwhile. I went there few years ago and picked up 2 or 3 loafs or really good bread.

    If you can’t make it to any of these places, and if you name starts with H. invite yourself to my house for a cup of tea and a slice of bread. Otherwise, with just a few simple ingredients and a cast iron pot you can have the tastiest bread you have ever tried.

    Almost No-Knead Bread
    (from Cook’s Illustrated)

    An enameled cast-iron Dutch oven with a tight-fitting lid yields best results, but the recipe also works in a regular cast-iron Dutch oven or heavy stockpot. Use a mild-flavored lager, such as Budweiser (mild non-alcoholic lager also works). The bread is best eaten the day it is baked but can be wrapped in aluminum foil and stored in a cool, dry place for up to 2 days.

    Makes 1 large round loaf

    3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (15 ounces), plus additional for dusting work surface
    1/4 teaspoon instant or rapid-rise yeast
    1 1/2 teaspoons table salt
    3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons water (7 ounces), at room temperature
    1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons mild-flavored lager (3 ounces)
    1 tablespoon white vinegar

    1. Whisk flour, yeast, and salt in large bowl. Add water, beer, and vinegar. Using rubber spatula, fold mixture, scraping up dry flour from bottom of bowl until shaggy ball forms. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and let sit at room temperature for 8 to 18 hours.

    2. Lay 12- by 18-inch sheet of parchment paper inside 10-inch skillet and spray with nonstick cooking spray. Transfer dough to lightly floured work surface and knead 10 to 15 times. Shape dough into ball by pulling edges into middle. Transfer dough, seam-side down, to parchment-lined skillet and spray surface of dough with nonstick cooking spray. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rise at room temperature until dough has doubled in size and does not readily spring back when poked with finger, about 2 hours.

    3. About 30 minutes before baking, adjust oven rack to lowest position, place 6- to 8-quart heavy-bottomed Dutch oven (with lid) on rack, and heat oven to 500 degrees. Lightly flour top of dough and, using razor blade or sharp knife, make one 6-inch-long, 1/2-inch-deep slit along top of dough. Carefully remove pot from oven and remove lid. Pick up dough by lifting parchment overhang and lower into pot (let any excess parchment hang over pot edge). Cover pot and place in oven. Reduce oven temperature to 425 degrees and bake covered for 30 minutes. Remove lid and continue to bake until loaf is deep brown and instant-read thermometer inserted into center registers 210 degrees, 20 to 30 minutes longer. Carefully remove bread from pot; transfer to wire rack and cool to room temperature, about 2 hours.

    Continue reading →
  • Hardship-Off

    Reader Grace practically challenged me to a hardship-off. In response to my post “How old am I in dog American years?” she writes:

    I was born in pre-economic-Tiger South Korea. We had an outhouse, and took baths in a big tub in the courtyard that my mom filled with hot water. In the winter we went to the neighborhood hot baths (I think they have in Russia too, right?).

    As a simple answer I am posting artist’s depiction of outdoor plumbing facilities similar to what my grandmother had. The water from the well was poured into a hand-washing device and dirty water was collected below for whatever purposes i.e. mopping, etc. Once-a-week we went to community bathhouse for more thorough hygienic procedures.

    To continue the hardship-off submit your own hardship in comments.

    Continue reading →
  • Behind the Iron Curtain: Portyanki

    Memory is a strange thing. One minute I am reading a story about outpatient surgery in prison and the next minute it takes me back about 20 years when I was sitting in a small army hospital room and another soldier, who was supposed to be a nurse, was poking a scalpel at the infected cyst on my own foot. But this is not about some gruesome sadistic surgery forced on a newly drafted Soviet Soldier, although I still have a scar to show for it. This is a post about portyanki – a foot wrap worn in the Russian and later in the Soviet army instead of socks until just a year or two ago.

    After a long and tumultuous day of saying good-byes to civilian life and traveling by train and then inside a truck in the dark, lining up, multiple counts, marching with a group of half-scared schmucks and finally arriving at a place where most of us will spend the next two years, our group of fresh draftees finally settled down for an uneasy night of exhausted sleep. In the morning we were to shed whatever else connected us to our previous lives and become bona fide soldiers in the Soviet Army. After watching in horror other soldiers jump off their bunk-beds and stampede to their morning exercise routine we proceeded to the warehouse to receive our uniforms. The Soviet military uniform changed very little since WWII and there were always rumors of giant stashes of old uniforms sitting around waiting for the time “when enemy strikes”. The boots were the heavy non-laced kind from some fake leather material called kirza (sometimes translated as canvas, I am not exactly sure), uncomplicated by lining or any other comfort features. There were no socks, instead we received two pieces of cloth about the size, shape and thickness of a tea towel (13.6 by 35 inches) and some vague instructions about how to put them on. Given the quality of boots and the fact that this was the only kind of footwear for all occasions except for the rare weekend off, portyanki were not such a bad choice. What we didn’t realize was that putting them on correctly was an art, mastering which for most people required persistence, patience and a lot of foot damage. Another useful but unavailable at that time piece of information was that although the boot may have felt tight at first, getting a larger size was a big mistake. After some trial, error and confusion I ended up with a new uniform, two portyanki and a set of boots one or two sizes too large. Everything seemed to be OK until my first 10K run in full gear. During my whole life before that day my cumulative running distance equaled to about 10 or 20 kilometers. Needless to say that I crawled back half-dead with my portyanki bunched up inside my boots and a big bloody blister on one of my feet, which then got infected, blossomed into a big cyst and brought me to the scalpel wielding failed medical student from the beginning of this post. For the next two weeks one could tell inexperienced portyanki wearer by his distinct limp and walking around in slippers instead of boots. I almost had to wear slippers to my swearing-in ceremony but after the infamous surgery I recovered enough to fit in the boots again.

    I could go on and on about portyanki, about the summer and winter kinds, about the smell when everyone aired theirs at night (laundry was once a week), or about how I eventually mastered the art of putting them on and wore them until I was discharged even when I was allowed to wear normal socks. They were comfortable in the end, easier and faster to put on, warmer in winter and cooler during the summer. When I see American soldiers running around in sneakers I smile to myself: what a bunch of pussies! (I am kidding, do not write me threatening comments). For those of you who don’t believe me here is a short instructional video. And that’s, my American friends, how we won the cold war!

    Continue reading →