The Ukrainian blonde had the smell of trouble. She had perched
herself, along with her mute friend, in a restaurant across from
the famed South Melbourne Market. On arriving at the modish,
glorious bit of real estate known as Tipsy Village, a Polish
establishment famed for accented French cuisine, she shrieked: Why
do you have Ruskie dumplings on your menu?
The Polish host, a man of butter mild manner and infinite
tolerance, covered in stout glory, took it in his stride. That is
what they are called where I come from and that is what we serve,
Peter Barnatt stated with serene clarity. (Such wickedness! Such a
radical disposition!) The blonde shrieking wonder continued to
invest in the dumplings some satanic quality, as if each one had
been a shell, soldier, a weapon massed and launched against her
pristine homeland which she had, it seemed, abandoned. We would
just like coffees, she demanded. His temper finally disturbed, the
host insisted that, as the two were not intent on dining, might
just as well leave.
In a luxurious huff, they exited. Such behaviour was fascinating
for being irresolvable no dining establishment worth its salt and
cutlery should ever change that aspect of things. But for them, the
issue had been decided, a prejudice firmed up and solid.
Names on the menu are a signature of a restaurants worth.
Besides, dishes do not invade countries in tanks nor bomb cities.
The episode was also strikingly, amusingly moronic. Food had been
made out as somehow guilty, disgusting, revolting all because of a
name, an identity. The sin had moved in the dough, the mixture and
the potatoes, dumplings with agency. The restaurateur was all the
more guilty for hosting them.
Since the invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, the
gastro-culture war on serving dishes with a Russian name, be it
with hint, flavour, or substance, has been total. Hatred of the
Kremlin has become bigotry towards the dish. In Madrid, Sergiy
Skorokhvatov, himself Ukrainian and an owner of a restaurant called
Rasputin serving both Russian and Ukrainian cuisine, sensed
trouble. He
ventured into the thorny world of online discussions to clarify
the nature of what he was serving, which was considered wise given
what has happening to other restaurants serving Russian fare.
This method of insurance was not full proof. I thought that
changing things would help us, but then people started posting
similar stuff about us Dont go to Russian restaurants and pictures
of blown-up buildings in Ukraine.
When politics ventures into the field of gastronomy, imbecility
is sovereign, its crown heavy. The French restaurant chain Maison
de la Poutine, specialising in the combination of chips, cheese
curds and gravy (poutine, you might say),...