300 word draft
600 word draft
1000 word draft
final draft
draft 1
Каша, by definition, is a grain boiled in milk or water. It is one of the main dishes of Ukrainian cuisine. In my house, it is prepared with milk, honey, oats, and a mixture of various seeds such as flax, chia, and hemp. I’m not referring to the English reception, kasha, which is cooked buckwheat, and Ukrainian comfort food as well. Although my mum makes that too, it isn’t as good as the sweet oat porridge. I have a special connection to it, simply because of how long I’ve been eating it for. It is one of the core memories I have living in my old house in my current neighborhood of Biddeford Pool. I remember when I was around 5 years old, I would routinely wake up in the middle of the night, go to my mum, and gesture a eating motion with my little hands. Every time, she would prepare me a bowl, sort of the default food at the time, with all of its clumps and slimy texture. Currently, when my mum leaves for work before I wake up, I go into the kitchen to discover she left me leftovers, still warm. I add some milk, stir it up, and leave it on heat for a little while to soften. Каша reminds me of all of the homes I’ve lived in, because it has been made in every single one. It also reminds me of my other home, Ukraine.
draft 2
Pancakes are a staple comfort food in many countries. Bliny, by definition, is a pancake traditionally made from buckwheat or wheat flour and served with sour cream, farmer’s cheese, or caviar. When they are stuffed, they technically become nalysnyky. Both of these are the main dishes of Ukrainian cuisine. To put the right picture in your head, I am not referring to the Saturday-morning-cartoon American style pancakes, but more like French crêpes. In my house, it is prepared much like crêpes. Whisked in a bowl, poured onto a thin pan, and archaically tilted around to cover all of the pan’s area. Thin, delicate, and can be enjoyed sweet or savory. However, I have and will only ever eat them sweet.
My go-to method of eating them is–instead of putting the filling on the inside–I would squirt too much whipped cream onto my plate, fold a bliny up into a sort of triangle napkin-like shape, and dip it straight into the whipped cream. Another option is to dip them in jam. I prefer sugar-free raspberry jam, because berries are already sweet, it makes no sense. Although, I would like to try currant jam, because currants are the jam in Ukraine, if you know what I mean. If I’m feeling particularly fancy, I spread the jam down the middle of the bliny, as if I am spreading guacamole on a tortilla. Then I roll it up and eat it with my hands, never with a fork. It’s just one of those things. My mum likes to eat them the Ukrainian way. The “Ukrainian way” is putting sour cream on every conceivable food, even when it really doesn’t call for it.
The reason why bliny means something to me is because it’s always been a sort of a “special occasion” dish. The smell of bliny always reminds me of a sunny summer day, because they are historically made on my birthday, July 14th. Speaking of which, of course I’m going to ask my mum to do the same thing for my 19th birthday, why wouldn’t I? Anyway, I remember the sunlight pouring in the windows, the songs of birds, the unreplicatable excitement of today being my birthday. I remember sitting at the bar, watching my mum in the kitchen take a ladle, pour the batter on the designated bliny pan, and then flop each one onto a separate plate. She always gave me the pretty ones. Even when it wasn’t my birthday, it was always an event when she made them. Every once in a while there would be a Saturday where we would both be home, I would ask her to make them, and she happily agreed. We almost never have breakfast together, but this makes an exception. This is special. I take all the potential topping out of the fridge: apricot jam, raspberry jam, whipped cream, sour cream, and farmer’s cheese. I place them on the dining table–which is usually covered in random things I didn’t feel like putting away at the moment–and make sure the placemats are in the appropriate spots. There is probably a half finished cup of tea or coffee on mine. I then go to the drawer to get the silverware to complete setting the table. Now, it is time. I usually like making my own food, but this is the one instance where I know that my mum would make them better than me. The farmer’s cheese is slightly nauseating, but has a very distinct Ukrainian flavor. It makes me think of my babushka’s house, where I’ve tried so many Ukrainian foods.
draft 3
Pancakes are a staple comfort food in many countries. Bliny, by definition, is a pancake traditionally made from buckwheat or wheat flour and served with sour cream, farmer’s cheese, or caviar. When they are stuffed, they technically become nalysnyky. Both of these are the main dishes of Ukrainian cuisine. To put the right picture in your head, I am not referring to the Saturday-morning-cartoon American style pancakes, but more like French crêpes. In my house, it is prepared much like crêpes. Whisked in a bowl, poured onto a thin pan, and archaically tilted around to cover all of the pan’s area. Thin, delicate, and can be enjoyed sweet or savory. However, I have and will only ever eat them sweet.
My go-to method of eating them is–instead of putting the filling on the inside–I would squirt far too much whipped cream onto my plate, fold a bliny up into a sort of triangle, napkin-like shape, and dip it straight into the whipped cream. Another option is to dip them in jam. I prefer sugar-free raspberry jam, because berries are already sweet, adding sugar makes no sense. Although, I would like to try currant jam, because currants are the jam in Ukraine, if you know what I mean. If I’m feeling particularly fancy, I spread the jam down the middle of the bliny, as if I am spreading guacamole on a tortilla. Then I roll it up and eat it with my hands, never with a fork. It’s just one of those things. My mum likes to eat them the Ukrainian way. The “Ukrainian way” is putting sour cream on every conceivable food, even when it really doesn’t call for it.
One reason why bliny means something to me is because it’s always been a sort of a “special occasion” dish. The smell of bliny always reminds me of a sunny summer day, because they are historically made on my birthday, July 14th. Speaking of which, of course I’m going to ask my mum to make them for my 19th birthday, why wouldn’t I? Anyway, I remember the sunlight pouring in the windows, the songs of birds, the unreplicatable excitement of today being my birthday. I remember sitting at the kitchen bar, watching my mum in the kitchen take a ladle and pour the batter on the designated bliny pan, then flop each one onto a separate plate. She probably started making them an hour or so before I woke up. The recipe was one egg, two tablespoons of sugar, two tablespoons of oil, one cup of lukewarm milk, half a teaspoon of baking soda, and enough flour to make the batter look right. Even when it wasn’t my birthday, it was always an event when she made them. Every once in a while there would be a Saturday where we would both be home. I would ask her to make them, and she happily agreed. We almost never have breakfast together, but this makes an exception. This is special. I take all the potential topping out of the fridge: apricot jam, raspberry jam, whipped cream, sour cream, and farmer’s cheese. I place them on the dining table–which is usually covered in random things I didn’t feel like putting away at the moment–and make sure the placemats are in the appropriate spots. There is probably a half finished cup of tea or coffee on mine. I then go to the drawer to get the silverware to complete setting the table. Now, it is time. My mum and I each take a bliny from the large common plate in the middle of the table, and dress it up to our preference. Whipped cream on mine, sour cream on hers. She always saved the pretty ones for me. My mum made stuffed ones as well, and I try one. The farmer’s cheese is slightly nauseating, but has a very distinct Ukrainian flavor.
It makes me think of my babushka’s house, where I’ve tried so many Ukrainian foods in the past. I unfortunately rarely get to visit, especially now during the war. Ukraine is such a different place than America in almost every conceivable way. Going there is sort of a breath of fresh air. My mum is virtually my only real connection to Ukraine. She tried to teach me Ukrainian when I was a baby, but she gave up after a while. I still grieve my dissociation from Ukraine, and I guess eating its food helps close the distance.
My mum was in her early 20s when she came to the US, so she spent her entire childhood outside of American culture, unlike me. I asked her about her relationship with the dish. “I had this dish since childhood. It’s a popular dish in Ukraine, and it’s one of my favorites. And there is also, it offers a variety because usually the [bliny] are served with filling, they are rolled and filled with all kinds of things like meat, farmer’s cheese, caviar… what else… mushrooms.” I also asked her if her parents made this dish. “My parents didn’t really make them often because my mom didn’t like, y’know, advanced cooking, but my babushka did. [ . . . ] So, yeah, so my babushka did it and she usually make a whole big pile and, y’know, and then, and she didn’t stuff it. [ . . . ] And so what else, and it can be like in Ukraine it can be breakfast, it can be dinner… and lunch!”
The last question I had for my mum was why she thinks I like this dish. She answered, “Well because they are tasty. No, they really taste good, I think that’s the main reason. Perhaps you like it because it’s national food, Ukrainian food.” This is true, I am very proud of my Ukrainian heritage. Although she is right, I would say that bliny is my favorite meal because it is a concrete way of my mum showing her love for me.
final version
Pancakes are a staple comfort food in many countries. Bliny, by definition, is a pancake traditionally made from buckwheat or wheat flour and served with sour cream, farmer’s cheese, or caviar. When they are stuffed, they technically become nalysnyky. Both of these are the main dishes of Ukrainian cuisine. To put the right picture in your head, I am not referring to the Saturday-morning-cartoon American style pancakes, but more like French crêpes. In my house, it is prepared much like crêpes. Whisked in a bowl, poured onto a thin pan, and archaically tilted around to cover all of the pan’s area. Thin, delicate, and can be enjoyed sweet or savory. However, I have and will only ever eat them sweet.
My go-to method of eating them is–instead of putting the filling on the inside–I would squirt far too much whipped cream onto my plate, fold a bliny up into a sort of triangle, napkin-like shape, and dip it straight into the whipped cream. Another option is to dip them in jam. I prefer raspberry jam, although I would like to try currant jam, because currants are super popular in Ukraine. If I’m feeling particularly fancy, I spread the jam down the middle of the bliny, as if I am spreading guacamole on a tortilla. Then I roll it up and eat it with my hands, never with a fork. It’s just one of those things. My mum likes to eat them the Ukrainian way. The “Ukrainian way” is putting sour cream on every conceivable food, even when it really doesn’t call for it.
One reason why bliny means something to me is because it’s always been a sort of a “special occasion” dish. The smell of bliny always reminds me of a sunny summer day, because they are historically made on my birthday, July 14th. Speaking of which, of course I’m going to ask my mum to make them for my 19th birthday, why wouldn’t I? Anyway, I remember the sunlight pouring in the windows, the songs of birds, the unreplicable excitement of today being my birthday. I remember sitting at the kitchen bar, watching my mum in the kitchen take a ladle and pour the batter on the designated bliny pan, then flop each one onto a separate plate. She probably started making them an hour or so before I woke up. The recipe was one egg, two tablespoons of sugar, two tablespoons of oil, one cup of lukewarm milk, half a teaspoon of baking soda, and enough flour to make the batter look right. Even when it wasn’t my birthday, it was always an event when she made them. Every once in a while there would be a Saturday where we would both be home. I would ask her to make them, and she happily agreed. We almost never have breakfast together, but this makes an exception. This is special. I take all the potential topping out of the fridge: apricot jam, raspberry jam, whipped cream, sour cream, and farmer’s cheese. I place them on the dining table–which is usually covered in random things I didn’t feel like putting away at the moment–and make sure the placemats are in the appropriate spots. There is probably a half finished cup of tea or coffee on mine. I then go to the drawer to get the silverware to complete setting the table. Now, it is time. My mum and I each take a bliny from the large common plate in the middle of the table, and dress it up to our preference. Whipped cream on mine, sour cream on hers. She always saved the pretty ones for me. My mum made stuffed ones as well, and I try one. The farmer’s cheese is slightly nauseating, but has a very distinct Ukrainian flavor.
It makes me think of my babushka’s house, where I’ve tried so many Ukrainian foods in the past. I unfortunately rarely get to visit, especially now during the war. Ukraine is such a different place than America in almost every conceivable way. Going there is sort of a breath of fresh air. My mum is virtually my only real connection to Ukraine. She tried to teach me Ukrainian when I was a baby, but she gave up after a while. I still grieve my dissociation from Ukraine, and I guess eating its food helps close the distance.
My mum was in her early 20s when she came to the US, so she spent her entire childhood outside of American culture, unlike me. I asked her about her relationship with the dish. “I had this dish since childhood. It’s a popular dish in Ukraine, and it’s one of my favorites. And there is also, it offers a variety because usually the [bliny] are served with filling, they are rolled and filled with all kinds of things like meat, farmer’s cheese, caviar… what else… mushrooms.” This piece of information was insightful to me, because I wouldn’t have ever imagined mushrooms going well with bliny. I also asked her if her parents made this dish. “My parents didn’t really make them often because my mom didn’t like, y’know, advanced cooking, but my babushka did. [ . . . ] So, yeah, so my babushka did it and she usually make a whole big pile and, y’know, and then, and she didn’t stuff it. [ . . . ] And so what else, and it can be like in Ukraine it can be breakfast, it can be dinner… and lunch!” The last point is especially true to me, because as much as I like having it for breakfast, it’s fun to have a friend over and make it together for dinner.
The last question I had for my mum was why she thinks I like this dish. She answered, “Well because they are tasty. No, they really taste good, I think that’s the main reason. Perhaps you like it because it’s national food, Ukrainian food.” This is true, I am very proud of my Ukrainian heritage. Although she is right, I would say that bliny is my favorite meal because it is a concrete way of my mum showing her love for me.
