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| Moscow's food revolution: craft beer, McDonald's and a big dash of nostalgia | Moscow's food revolution: craft beer, McDonald's and a big dash of nostalgia |
| (about 3 hours later) | |
| Last August, 200 branches of McDonald’s in Russia came under scrutiny for hygiene and safety. Several were closed, including Moscow’s first ever McDonald’s, at Pushkin Square near the Kremlin. For the most part, Muscovites knew it was just a publicity stunt, a salvo in the ongoing ideological war with the west – and indeed that famous McDonald’s outlet opened up again three months later. | |
| But if food is always an indicator of a society’s health, then in Moscow, diet has become one of the first victims of sanctions. Theoretically, the ban on EU beef, pork, cheese, fruit and more wouldn’t affect all of society – how many Russians outside of Moscow buy pecorino or chorizo anyway? – but it would be an illusion to think ordinary people are unaffected. The sanctions have deepened a more general crisis in the Russian food industry: although Russia trumpets that it will become self-sufficient, in reality, food reveals how Moscow is a city haunted by scarcity. | But if food is always an indicator of a society’s health, then in Moscow, diet has become one of the first victims of sanctions. Theoretically, the ban on EU beef, pork, cheese, fruit and more wouldn’t affect all of society – how many Russians outside of Moscow buy pecorino or chorizo anyway? – but it would be an illusion to think ordinary people are unaffected. The sanctions have deepened a more general crisis in the Russian food industry: although Russia trumpets that it will become self-sufficient, in reality, food reveals how Moscow is a city haunted by scarcity. |
| Sitting in Craft RePUBlic, one of the craft beer establishments on the thoroughfare of Maly Gnezdnikovsky Pereulik off Moscow’s main boulevard, Tverskaya, it’s hard to feel the clampdown on “western values” alongside western goods that is omnipresent in the Russian media. Young, attractive folk sip dozens of European ales and beers for the reasonable sum of 180-200 roubles (£2.10-2.30). | Sitting in Craft RePUBlic, one of the craft beer establishments on the thoroughfare of Maly Gnezdnikovsky Pereulik off Moscow’s main boulevard, Tverskaya, it’s hard to feel the clampdown on “western values” alongside western goods that is omnipresent in the Russian media. Young, attractive folk sip dozens of European ales and beers for the reasonable sum of 180-200 roubles (£2.10-2.30). |
| Yet beer sales have dropped as the crisis has made them more expensive, hitting big import names like Carlsberg particularly hard. Those who have money might still be able to sip foreign beers, but the saddest aspect of nationalistic and supposedly pro-working class sanctions in Russia is that they hit mainly poor people. | Yet beer sales have dropped as the crisis has made them more expensive, hitting big import names like Carlsberg particularly hard. Those who have money might still be able to sip foreign beers, but the saddest aspect of nationalistic and supposedly pro-working class sanctions in Russia is that they hit mainly poor people. |
| And for those people, the food is becoming increasingly inedible. The quality of items for which Russia was famous, such as rye bread, has gone down significantly as producers try to replace banned ingredients. New Russian “cheeses” sometimes use palm oil instead of milk, “fake” foods abound and the Russian beer that’s available in the shops of Moscow is famously terrible (my apologies to the producers of Baltica and Sibirskaya Corona). Or, companies just bypass the regulations by sticking Belarussian labels on Lithuanian or Polish products. | And for those people, the food is becoming increasingly inedible. The quality of items for which Russia was famous, such as rye bread, has gone down significantly as producers try to replace banned ingredients. New Russian “cheeses” sometimes use palm oil instead of milk, “fake” foods abound and the Russian beer that’s available in the shops of Moscow is famously terrible (my apologies to the producers of Baltica and Sibirskaya Corona). Or, companies just bypass the regulations by sticking Belarussian labels on Lithuanian or Polish products. |
| While lack of imports could in theory stimulate local producers, Russian agriculture is in poor shape – a legacy of a country where businesses that generate instant income, like oil and gas, take priority over those that need investment and care to be taken out of decline first. | While lack of imports could in theory stimulate local producers, Russian agriculture is in poor shape – a legacy of a country where businesses that generate instant income, like oil and gas, take priority over those that need investment and care to be taken out of decline first. |
| Soviet nostalgia has become a marketing device to make young people nostalgic about what they didn’t experience anyway | Soviet nostalgia has become a marketing device to make young people nostalgic about what they didn’t experience anyway |
| The destruction of the state’s relationship with agriculture has its roots in the Bolshevik revolution. Peasants were initially treated as a reactionary element, as their love of individual ownership was seen as essentially capitalist; in the civil war of 1918-21, grain was forcibly requisitioned to feed the cities. Then came Stalinism, when forced collectivisation saw millions of peasants deported and starved, their crops sold to the west for hard currency to buy western agricultural machinery. The failure was so dreadful it crippled Soviet agriculture for years. | The destruction of the state’s relationship with agriculture has its roots in the Bolshevik revolution. Peasants were initially treated as a reactionary element, as their love of individual ownership was seen as essentially capitalist; in the civil war of 1918-21, grain was forcibly requisitioned to feed the cities. Then came Stalinism, when forced collectivisation saw millions of peasants deported and starved, their crops sold to the west for hard currency to buy western agricultural machinery. The failure was so dreadful it crippled Soviet agriculture for years. |
| The depopulation of the countryside led to experiments – students were sent to the countryside to pick potatoes, and later Khrushchev attempted to make Russia agriculturally self-sufficient – but after economists tried to “rationalise” the economy by raising the prices of basic foods, the result was meat riots in Novocherkassk, which were bloodily crushed. After that, there were no more experiments – cheap grain was imported from the US. | The depopulation of the countryside led to experiments – students were sent to the countryside to pick potatoes, and later Khrushchev attempted to make Russia agriculturally self-sufficient – but after economists tried to “rationalise” the economy by raising the prices of basic foods, the result was meat riots in Novocherkassk, which were bloodily crushed. After that, there were no more experiments – cheap grain was imported from the US. |
| Post-1991, the newly capitalist state was not interested in making any new investments, in establishing networks of smaller farmers or creating systems of affordable credit. Instead, everything is handled by big Russian corporations, who prefer to buy from abroad, and not just grain. A decade after the dissolution of the USSR, meat and dairy herds had fallen by 75%. | Post-1991, the newly capitalist state was not interested in making any new investments, in establishing networks of smaller farmers or creating systems of affordable credit. Instead, everything is handled by big Russian corporations, who prefer to buy from abroad, and not just grain. A decade after the dissolution of the USSR, meat and dairy herds had fallen by 75%. |
| Despite these failures, or even because of them, an “agriculture porn” pervades Russian food imagery. In Ivan Pyryev’s 1949 Stalinist propaganda musical Cossacks of the Kuban, peasants were shown luxuriating in abundance while the USSR was still experiencing famines. Similarly, the Book of Tasty and Healthy Food, published in 1939, had illustrations so opulent and unrealistic that they left space for dreaming. Homemade food supplemented the shortages. “In every house there would be a special place for homemade food: conserves, pickles, jams,” says Kirill Kobrin, an essayist and journalist born at the beginning of the Brezhnev era. Relatives in the countryside would help Muscovites source homegrown food. “Scarcity was an endless topics of jokes in satirical press,” Kobrin says. “Recipes and cookbooks told you how to make caviar from kasha by soaking it in fish oil.” | Despite these failures, or even because of them, an “agriculture porn” pervades Russian food imagery. In Ivan Pyryev’s 1949 Stalinist propaganda musical Cossacks of the Kuban, peasants were shown luxuriating in abundance while the USSR was still experiencing famines. Similarly, the Book of Tasty and Healthy Food, published in 1939, had illustrations so opulent and unrealistic that they left space for dreaming. Homemade food supplemented the shortages. “In every house there would be a special place for homemade food: conserves, pickles, jams,” says Kirill Kobrin, an essayist and journalist born at the beginning of the Brezhnev era. Relatives in the countryside would help Muscovites source homegrown food. “Scarcity was an endless topics of jokes in satirical press,” Kobrin says. “Recipes and cookbooks told you how to make caviar from kasha by soaking it in fish oil.” |
| The current situation in Moscow has a bitter taste of “back to basics”, given how difficult it was to source good food in the Soviet era. Russian newspapers are cynically recommending old staples like grechka (buckwheat), and Russian nationalism is stepping up to “help”. The pro-Putin film director Nikita Mikhalkov recently sought financial support from the government to open a chain of “patriotic fast-food” restaurants, a kind of anti-McDonald’s. (The project failed at the final stage.) | The current situation in Moscow has a bitter taste of “back to basics”, given how difficult it was to source good food in the Soviet era. Russian newspapers are cynically recommending old staples like grechka (buckwheat), and Russian nationalism is stepping up to “help”. The pro-Putin film director Nikita Mikhalkov recently sought financial support from the government to open a chain of “patriotic fast-food” restaurants, a kind of anti-McDonald’s. (The project failed at the final stage.) |
| However, “patriotic” or domestic-cuisine fast-food already exists: Teremok (selling blini and kvas) and Mu-Mu, a chain of stolovaya Russian canteens across Moscow that serve classical Soviet dishes: mayo salads, cutlets, compote. With its kitschy design, mirrors, metal chairs and tables, all covered in a cow-skin pattern, Mu-Mu is fascinating – and not only because an endless list of dishes costs as little as 500 roubles for two people. Soviet nostalgia has become a marketing device, to make young, hip people “nostalgic” about what they mostly didn’t experience anyway. | However, “patriotic” or domestic-cuisine fast-food already exists: Teremok (selling blini and kvas) and Mu-Mu, a chain of stolovaya Russian canteens across Moscow that serve classical Soviet dishes: mayo salads, cutlets, compote. With its kitschy design, mirrors, metal chairs and tables, all covered in a cow-skin pattern, Mu-Mu is fascinating – and not only because an endless list of dishes costs as little as 500 roubles for two people. Soviet nostalgia has become a marketing device, to make young, hip people “nostalgic” about what they mostly didn’t experience anyway. |
| Indeed, much attention has been devoted recently to the fact that Moscow now has hipsters. Although marginal, a small creative class has pioneered this lifestyle, trying to source local Russian goods, establishing farmers’ markets in the capital and adapting post-industrial spaces for shared workspace and food culture. “Former factories tend to have lower rent compared to the rest of the city, so startups and independent small businesses can afford to work there,” says food critic Sasha Raspopina. “There are shops with clothes from local designers, cafes serving unusual food or galleries that host contemporary art shows. We like factory architecture from the late 19th century and the Soviet era – most industries have moved to the suburbs now anyway.” | Indeed, much attention has been devoted recently to the fact that Moscow now has hipsters. Although marginal, a small creative class has pioneered this lifestyle, trying to source local Russian goods, establishing farmers’ markets in the capital and adapting post-industrial spaces for shared workspace and food culture. “Former factories tend to have lower rent compared to the rest of the city, so startups and independent small businesses can afford to work there,” says food critic Sasha Raspopina. “There are shops with clothes from local designers, cafes serving unusual food or galleries that host contemporary art shows. We like factory architecture from the late 19th century and the Soviet era – most industries have moved to the suburbs now anyway.” |
| In Moscow there are several spaces like this: the former wine factory Winzavod, or the old Red October chocolate factory on the river by the Strelka urban institute, not to mention various glamorous brunch hangouts at galleries and restaurants serving American and Georgian food. At Gorky Park, a newly pedestrian-friendly space in a pedestrian-unfriendly city, the hot-dog and ice-cream parlours seem straight out of 1950s America. A similar effort to attract young people is being made at VDNKh, an old Stalinist exhibition site, now busy adding fast food and coffee stands. Pokrovka, a 19th-century street that is walking distance from Red Square, is rammed with yuppie bars serving everything from sushi to ravioli to ragout. | In Moscow there are several spaces like this: the former wine factory Winzavod, or the old Red October chocolate factory on the river by the Strelka urban institute, not to mention various glamorous brunch hangouts at galleries and restaurants serving American and Georgian food. At Gorky Park, a newly pedestrian-friendly space in a pedestrian-unfriendly city, the hot-dog and ice-cream parlours seem straight out of 1950s America. A similar effort to attract young people is being made at VDNKh, an old Stalinist exhibition site, now busy adding fast food and coffee stands. Pokrovka, a 19th-century street that is walking distance from Red Square, is rammed with yuppie bars serving everything from sushi to ravioli to ragout. |
| But if these restaurants are for the rich, there’s a weird ritual in Moscow that bucks the trend: no matter how expensive the restaurant, it will probably have a “business lunch”, 200 roubles for three courses in a city that is otherwise nearly as expensive as London. This can be only explained by Moscow’s aspirationalism: there are many “coffee to go” places, visible by their characteristic silhouettes of business people in a rush holding briefcases and coffees. | But if these restaurants are for the rich, there’s a weird ritual in Moscow that bucks the trend: no matter how expensive the restaurant, it will probably have a “business lunch”, 200 roubles for three courses in a city that is otherwise nearly as expensive as London. This can be only explained by Moscow’s aspirationalism: there are many “coffee to go” places, visible by their characteristic silhouettes of business people in a rush holding briefcases and coffees. |
| McDonald’s plays a truly social role, providing mass (if badly paid) employment and sourcing ingredients in Russia | McDonald’s plays a truly social role, providing mass (if badly paid) employment and sourcing ingredients in Russia |
| Meanwhile, the restaurants most locals go to are either stolovaya like Mu-Mu or, a surprise, McDonald’s. A chain that is looked at with disdain by many westerners completely changes its meaning in the post-communist east, where it still enjoys its legacy as the first tangible symbol that the mythical “west” had arrived at last. McDonald’s plays a truly social role in Russia, Kobrin says. It is almost a national institution, providing mass (if badly paid) employment and sourcing its ingredients in Russia. And it plays an important social role. For those who can’t afford to go to a real restaurant (ie almost everyone), it’s the way to have a family outing on modest means. It’s clean, it’s safe, there’s no alcohol or hooliganism, and kids can play in the corner. It has become a substitute for the disappearance of traditional Soviet social spaces. | Meanwhile, the restaurants most locals go to are either stolovaya like Mu-Mu or, a surprise, McDonald’s. A chain that is looked at with disdain by many westerners completely changes its meaning in the post-communist east, where it still enjoys its legacy as the first tangible symbol that the mythical “west” had arrived at last. McDonald’s plays a truly social role in Russia, Kobrin says. It is almost a national institution, providing mass (if badly paid) employment and sourcing its ingredients in Russia. And it plays an important social role. For those who can’t afford to go to a real restaurant (ie almost everyone), it’s the way to have a family outing on modest means. It’s clean, it’s safe, there’s no alcohol or hooliganism, and kids can play in the corner. It has become a substitute for the disappearance of traditional Soviet social spaces. |
| Indeed, the closure of those McDonald’s was never serious – a stunt that once again showed Russia’s rulers to be adherents of full-blown postmodernism. Any references to the Soviet past are a smokescreen: in terms of social security, secure housing or full employment, the Soviet state long ago ceased to exist. Even if the drastic lowering of life expectancy of the 1990s has improved under Vladimir Putin, the permanent expectation of collapse remains. So the Soviet nostalgia present in so many Moscow food and drink establishments fills the gap between post-communist social anxiety and an absolute lack of any idea of the future. | Indeed, the closure of those McDonald’s was never serious – a stunt that once again showed Russia’s rulers to be adherents of full-blown postmodernism. Any references to the Soviet past are a smokescreen: in terms of social security, secure housing or full employment, the Soviet state long ago ceased to exist. Even if the drastic lowering of life expectancy of the 1990s has improved under Vladimir Putin, the permanent expectation of collapse remains. So the Soviet nostalgia present in so many Moscow food and drink establishments fills the gap between post-communist social anxiety and an absolute lack of any idea of the future. |
| But there’s one element of Russian food infrastructure that functions well and should be exported all over the world – those stolovaya. One early Bolshevik aim was to free women of the confines of domestic work, and the stolovaya, ubiquitous self-service canteens in every workplace and on most street corners, were a direct result of the attempt to take women, and food, out of the kitchen. Of course workers’ wives were still expected to make copious dinners in the evenings, bringing them back to old-fashioned family and gender roles, but the stolovaya were nonetheless an idealistic initiative. | But there’s one element of Russian food infrastructure that functions well and should be exported all over the world – those stolovaya. One early Bolshevik aim was to free women of the confines of domestic work, and the stolovaya, ubiquitous self-service canteens in every workplace and on most street corners, were a direct result of the attempt to take women, and food, out of the kitchen. Of course workers’ wives were still expected to make copious dinners in the evenings, bringing them back to old-fashioned family and gender roles, but the stolovaya were nonetheless an idealistic initiative. |
| On the the top floor of GUM, the luxurious late 19th-century department store on Red Square, hidden away among Versaces and Pradas, is Stolovaya 57. It bears a number, to extend its full-communism experience (all stolovaya and gastronom grocery stores were once numbered), and there are nostalgic posters and instructive slogans like “Put back your tray, comrade” to remind you you’re not in a restaurant but a self-service establishment. There’s also, however, an unforced sense of communality that arises in the process of queueing: a monolith that moves at its own pace (there’ll be sighs from fellow customers if you slow the line), with the automation of composing your own meal. The traditional menu of vegetables, fish and other natural produce provides a more healthy and diverse diet than the fare at an American diner, and the very affordable, tiny portions of food behind glass, are the embodiment of a realised Soviet utopia, of which there’s so little remaining in Moscow or anywhere else. Plucked out of its historical context, designed for nostalgia, sponsored by an oligarch, but still speaking of a whole other world, Stolovaya 57 sums up what food indicates of Moscow’s health today. | On the the top floor of GUM, the luxurious late 19th-century department store on Red Square, hidden away among Versaces and Pradas, is Stolovaya 57. It bears a number, to extend its full-communism experience (all stolovaya and gastronom grocery stores were once numbered), and there are nostalgic posters and instructive slogans like “Put back your tray, comrade” to remind you you’re not in a restaurant but a self-service establishment. There’s also, however, an unforced sense of communality that arises in the process of queueing: a monolith that moves at its own pace (there’ll be sighs from fellow customers if you slow the line), with the automation of composing your own meal. The traditional menu of vegetables, fish and other natural produce provides a more healthy and diverse diet than the fare at an American diner, and the very affordable, tiny portions of food behind glass, are the embodiment of a realised Soviet utopia, of which there’s so little remaining in Moscow or anywhere else. Plucked out of its historical context, designed for nostalgia, sponsored by an oligarch, but still speaking of a whole other world, Stolovaya 57 sums up what food indicates of Moscow’s health today. |
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