The speaker cherishes the southern region and has poured years of effort into it, confidently claiming that no other place offers flavors quite like this. In Russia, and especially in the south, finding truly traditional, local cuisine that remains vibrant and unspoiled is rare, with mayonnaise, instant noodles, and frozen cutlets often dominating the table. Each new discovery here feels brighter and tastier, a reminder that climate, soil, and cultural ties have shaped a rich culinary tapestry. So right to the table we go, because there is an abundance of delicious things to discuss.
Starting with vegetables and greens, the palette is bold: bright red peppers and prickly Krivyankov varieties alongside pale pink, oversized Astrakhan tomatoes, sliced with a chef’s precision as if painted by a modern artist. They mingle with lemon-yellow, blue-black, and striped-orange tomatoes from nearby southern regions, while purple curls of Yalta onions release their scent in oil poured straight from the heart. The frost-kissed sunflowers and Kuban corn stand as the day’s stable harvest. Bundles of basil and tarragon—so robust in size and flavor that wedding bouquets might envy them—lie on the table or are transformed into purple and green lemonades and sweet-ticked compotes. Potatoes roasted in lard offer a hearty, rustic charm. Peppers are stuffed with turnips, carrots, parsnips, and parsley root, then simmered in a strong broth that carries the depth of a family kitchen. This is not a single dish but a whole category of blue-hued foods: deep-fried and grilled, charcoal-browned, mashed into porridge, and brightened with herbs, garlic, vinegar, and a nutty, fragrant oil. And the title of eggplant should be kept at bay until one stands respectfully far from southern borders.
Next comes pickling. Cucumbers and cabbage bind the nation together—yet look left or right, and marvels unfold. A cascade of flavors appears: bunches of grapes steeped in a pinkish, transparent green, tomatoes packed away in brine, and hot peppers sliced into strips. The lips, all tinted blue, glimmer with dill’s delicate webs. And of course, the legendary salted watermelons emerge: not everyone in the region agrees on tasting them, yet these gray-green spheres with a stubborn bite persist on the table. True gems, though, are the plums—especially the bright purple varieties that seem almost sapphire—paired with aromatic gorse in a sweet-sour-salty harmony that lingers on the palate. The local meat scene shines too, with lamb, duck, and goose delivering fatty, rich flavors that define the area’s character.
And the fish—oh, the fish. Carp transformed into grand, pre-Diluvial giants, cabbage-stuffed and ready to astonish. There is fried cabbage with carp caviar, fresh and sauerkraut, and in late winter, royal pike caviar whipped with sunflower oil into a pale mousse and served alongside onion-topped pancakes. In spring, the Don herring season arrives with simple, honest preparation: a fillet floured and fried, unadorned by sauces or fancy seasonings. Black Sea anchovies find their way to small, firm salted, grilled peppers that glow with color. Galagan, whether dried mullet or vobla caviar, serves as a regional nod to bottarga, especially delightful with pasta and scrambled eggs, though tursha—long, purple-green beans unfreed from the grill—also earns praise. The overall scene invites endless praise for how fish interplays with stock, tomatoes, herbs, and roots, sometimes with a touch of fire and a splash of vodka—a touch of household magic that this cuisine seems to know well. And what about crabs? The Aunt Governor’s tales in Puck briefly resurface, while sea bream and chamomile are treated as everyday treasures, even if ecologists sometimes keep a wary eye on them, yet locals treat them as if they belong on every table and in every story.
Wine naturally features here, offered in its own distinct styles—crisp whites, sturdy reds, and a sparkle that is light yet lively. The meal is traditionally accompanied by Black Sea mussels prepared with onions and apple cider, while dried beef bears a mineral-like pattern, and Mangalitsa lard from Hungarian pigs adds a unique, rich layer. Kalmyk horse meat sausage makes an appearance, with smoked cheeses such as galagan and tsogol giving a smoky, sheep-shed aroma, and turshu—the prized salted unripe apricots—provides a tart, fresh counterpoint that lingers in memory.