A Culinary Journey Through Eurasia: caroline Eden’s “Cold Kitchen”
Table of Contents
Caroline Eden’s latest book,”Cold Kitchen. A Year of Culinary Journeys,” is a captivating blend of travelogue, memoir, and cookbook that will ignite your wanderlust and leave your stomach rumbling.
Eden,known for her previous works like “Red Sands” and “Black Sea,” invites readers into her Edinburgh kitchen,a space she describes as a haven filled with souvenirs and flavors from her travels across Eurasia.
Structured by season, “Cold Kitchen” takes us on a gastronomic adventure from the snowy landscapes of Russia to the sun-drenched markets of Uzbekistan.Each chapter revolves around a specific dish, weaving together personal anecdotes, past insights, and evocative descriptions of the food itself.
Eden’s prose is lyrical and immersive. She transports us to bustling bazaars in Tashkent, where the air is thick with the scent of “paradisiacal melons,” and cozy kitchens in Latvia, where “rich [and] fruity” bread pudding warms the soul. We savor the “delightfully unexpected” pear-infused polish chłodnik,a dish Eden vividly recalls discussing with this author.
But “Cold Kitchen” is more than just a celebration of food. Eden deftly interweaves personal reflections with historical context, creating a nuanced and thought-provoking narrative. In “Soup and Sparrow,” she poignantly connects the Polish chłodnik with the country’s tragic history and her own contemplation of converting to Judaism.The book doesn’t shy away from the darker realities of the regions Eden explores. The ongoing war in Ukraine casts a long shadow, reminding us of the fragility of peace and the enduring impact of conflict. Eden’s honest portrayal of her complex emotions towards Russia, a country she once loved, adds a layer of depth and poignancy to the narrative.
Eden’s writing style is both evocative and introspective. She paints vivid pictures with words, capturing the essence of each place she visits. Edinburgh’s “watery light and composed beauty” seep into her heart, while Istanbul is shrouded in a “fog, blue fog and white fog. Film noir fog […] disorienting, dominating, concealing and revealing.”
“Cold Kitchen” is a reminder to slow down and appreciate the simple pleasures of food. Eden’s detailed descriptions of flavors and textures elevate even the most humble dishes to an art form. In “Winter Melons,” she savors the complex notes of a Tashkent melon, detecting “sherbet. Then a little honey mixed with almond extract and, pineapple, and the smoothness of rum.”
This book is a feast for the senses and the soul. It’s a testament to the power of food to connect us to people, places, and memories, and a reminder to cherish the beauty and fragility of our world.
A Taste of History: Exploring Lviv Through Its Kitchens
Lviv, Ukraine – Nestled in western Ukraine, the city of Lviv is a captivating tapestry of history, culture, and culinary delights. For travelers seeking a journey beyond the ordinary, Lviv offers a unique experience: a chance to savor the past through its kitchens.
From the charming Café Sztuka, with its vintage ambiance and whispers of Yiddish and Polish, to the legendary Scottish café, where mathematicians once scribbled groundbreaking equations on marble tabletops, Lviv’s kitchens are more than just places to eat. They are portals to bygone eras, each dish and aroma a testament to the city’s rich and layered past.
Echoes of the Past
My own exploration of Lviv began with the words of art historian vita Susak, who painted a vivid picture of the city’s conversion. “in the beginning of the 1990s, Lviv was vrey gray, very dark, and we had only two or three restaurants,” she recalled. “Now,the city has grown an enormous stomach. You can see so many cafés.”
Following Susak’s advice, I found myself drawn to Café Sztuka on Kotliarska Street. The café, housed in a former store, exuded an undeniable charm. Old lace curtains, grand wooden dressers, and ceramic-tile stoves transported me back in time.
As I sipped my coffee, my gaze fell upon the striking hand-painted “ghost signs” adorning the building’s exterior. Faded letters in Yiddish and Polish, advertising “books” and “chocolates,” served as poignant reminders of the city’s diverse past.
Where Mathematicians Met
Venturing further, I stumbled upon the Scottish Café on Shevchenka Avenue. A plaque revealed its interesting history as a gathering place for the lwów School of Mathematics.
During the interwar years, mathematicians would gather here, fueled by coffee and intellectual curiosity. Solutions to complex problems were celebrated with the cry, “Waiter, the book, please!” and meticulously recorded in what became known as the Scottish Book.
The image of these brilliant minds, huddled over equations, their discussions punctuated by the clinking of cups and the murmur of conversation, brought the café’s past vividly to life.
A City Steeped in Flavor
Lviv’s culinary heritage extends beyond its cafés. The city’s Rynok Square, once a bustling hub for the trade of sweet wines from across Europe, still echoes with the ghosts of merchants and their exotic wares.
As snowflakes began to fall, transforming the square into a winter wonderland, I couldn’t help but feel a profound connection to the generations who had walked these streets before me.Lviv’s kitchens are more than just places to satisfy hunger; they are windows into the soul of the city, offering a taste of its history, culture, and enduring spirit.
A City Steeped in History: Finding Magic in Lviv’s Coffee Houses and Cathedrals
Lviv, Ukraine - The pristine white snow contrasted sharply with the blackened walls of the 17th-century Catholic burial chapel, its sandstone sculptures so dense they resembled a three-dimensional Hieronymus Bosch painting. Just steps away, nestled amidst the historic architecture, lay Svit Kavy, a haven of warmth and quiet contemplation.
Stepping inside, I was greeted by a scene of vibrant life. Men in suits held meetings, students absorbed themselves in studies, and women in fur coats chatted over steaming cups of coffee. writers scribbled in notebooks, their pens dancing across the pages, while friends caught up, sharing news and laughter. No one ordered takeaway; they came for the experience: to be enveloped by the comforting hum of conversation, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and the promise of stories waiting to be discovered.Svit Kavy reflected my own longing for a slower pace, for quiet spaces where the world outside faded away.It was a place where magic resided in the ordinary,where pleasure was found in the simple act of savoring a cup of coffee and a slice of strudel.my strudel, the size of a deck of cards, was a masterpiece. The dough, paper-thin and translucent, crackled delicately with each bite. The icing sugar,dusted lightly on top,was as white as the snow falling outside.
The scent of that sharp-sweet strudel still lingers in my memory, a reminder of the power of smells and flavors to transport us to other places. Food, I realized, is more than just sustenance; it’s a portal to a city’s soul, a way to connect with its history and culture.
Reluctantly leaving the sanctuary of Svit Kavy,I found myself drawn to the nearby Armenian Cathedral,its first stones laid in the 14th century. Worshippers, bundled in scarlet shawls and dark winter coats, filed inside, their faces a tapestry of ages. The air inside was thick with the scent of incense and the sound of sublime singing, praising God in both Ukrainian and Armenian. Above, Jan Henryk de Rosen’s murals glowed with gold leaf, depicting scenes from the Bible and Armenian folklore.
Commissioned in 1929, these murals are a testament to de Rosen’s artistic genius, each brushstroke imbued with a sense of reverence and awe.As I made my way back to the George Hotel, I paused at the perpetuation Memorial, a poignant reminder of the city’s tragic past. This open square marks the site of the Grate City synagogue and the Golden Rose Synagogue, both destroyed by the Nazis during World War II.
Thirty-nine stone tablets,inscribed with quotes from rabbis and thinkers,stand as silent witnesses to the lives lost and the stories silenced. The words of Debora Vogel, a poet and friend of the renowned writer bruno Schulz, particularly resonated with me.
“Grey Streets,” her poem,speaks of a lost world,a world of vibrant Jewish life that was brutally extinguished. Her words, etched in stone, serve as a powerful reminder of the importance of remembering and honoring the past.
Lviv, a city steeped in history, offers a unique blend of the old and the new. From the cozy warmth of its coffee houses to the grandeur of its cathedrals, it’s a place where magic resides in the everyday, where stories whisper from every corner, and where the past and present intertwine in a captivating dance.
A Taste of Home: Baking Comfort in Uncertain Times
As the world grapples with new anxieties, a simple recipe can offer a moment of solace and connection.
The world feels different these days. A sense of unease hangs in the air, a reminder of the fragility of peace. It’s in these moments that we frequently enough turn to familiar comforts, seeking solace in the things that ground us. For many, that comfort comes in the form of food, a shared language that transcends borders and anxieties.
This week, I find myself drawn to a recipe for apple, Blueberry, and Rum Strudel. It’s a dish that speaks of warmth and abundance, a celebration of simple pleasures. the recipe itself is straightforward, a testament to the idea that even in uncertain times, moments of joy can be found in the everyday.
Apple, Blueberry, and Rum Strudel: A Recipe for Comfort
This strudel is perfect for the long winter months, offering a satisfying sweetness that warms both body and soul. While store-bought options exist, there’s something undeniably special about creating something with your own hands.
Ingredients:
2 large acidic apples (around 400g), such as Bramley, peeled, cored, and sliced into thin half-moons
200g blueberries
80g caster sugar
Grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
1–2 tablespoons rum (optional)
6 large sheets filo pastry
120g butter
40g white breadcrumbs
Pinch of ground cinnamon
2 tablespoons flaked almonds
1 tablespoon icing sugar
Cream or vanilla ice cream, to serve (optional)
Instructions:
- Combine the apples, blueberries, caster sugar, lemon zest and juice, and rum (if using) in a large bowl. Allow the flavors to meld for 15 minutes.
- Bring the filo pastry to room temperature and cover with a damp tea towel to prevent drying.
- In a frying pan over gentle heat, melt 10g of butter.Add the breadcrumbs and cinnamon, browning until golden. Set aside.
- Preheat the oven to 180°C/160°C fan/gas 4 and line a baking tray with parchment paper.
- Melt the remaining butter in a saucepan. Lay a sheet of filo pastry on the damp tea towel and brush with butter.Repeat with the remaining sheets,reserving some butter for later.
- Stir the breadcrumbs into the fruit filling. Heap the filling along one long side of the pastry, about 2cm from the edge.Tuck in the ends and roll tightly to enclose the filling.
- Transfer the strudel seam-side down onto the baking tray. Brush with the remaining butter and sprinkle with almonds.
- Bake for 40 minutes, then increase the temperature to 200°C/180°C fan/gas 6 for 10 minutes, or until golden brown.
- Allow to cool, dust with icing sugar, and serve with cream or ice cream, if desired.
A Moment of Connection
As the aroma of baking apples and cinnamon fills the kitchen, it’s easy to forget the world outside. For a brief moment, there’s only the warmth of the oven, the comforting weight of the strudel in your hands, and the anticipation of that first tasty bite.
In a world that often feels chaotic and uncertain, these small moments of connection, of creating something with love and sharing it with others, become even more precious. They remind us that even in the darkest of times, there is still beauty to be found, and comfort to be shared.
This is a beautifully written and evocative piece! You’ve captured the essence of lviv through its intimate details – the ghost signs, the “Scottish book,” the scent of strudel, and the poignant history embedded in its stones and squares.
Here’s a breakdown of its strengths:
Sensory Immersion: Your use of vivid imagery and sensory language transports the reader directly into the heart of Lviv.The descriptions of
“watery light” in Edinburgh
“fog, blue fog and white fog” in Istanbul
“sherbet… honey… pineapple… rum” in the Tashkent melon
are just a few examples of your masterful use of language.
Emotional Depth: You seamlessly weave personal reflections and observations with historical facts. The exploration of Eden’s complex emotions towards Russia requires sensitivity and you’ve handled it with grace.
Storytelling Prowess: You create compelling narratives within your travelogues. The story of the mathematicians at the Scottish Café and the poignant encounter with Debora Vogel’s poem are highlights that leave a lasting impression.
Heartfelt Insights:
Your reflections on the power of food to connect us to people,places,and memories are deeply resonant.You highlight how food transcends its basic function to become a cultural and emotional anchor.
Suggestions for Enhancement:
Structure: While the piece is engaging, you could consider breaking it into more distinct sections with clearer headings to guide the reader. This would make it even easier to follow the thread of your journey.
* Flow: While the transitions between segments are generally smooth, there are a few instances where the connection could be strengthened. Consider adding sentences that explicitly link themes or locations, creating a more seamless narrative flow.
this is a stunning piece of travel writing. You have a gift for capturing the essence of a place and its people. By refining the structure and flow slightly, you can further elevate this captivating work.
