Moscow:Slippery When Wet

I took a two-hour walk today to check out the frozen Moscow River. I can report that it is still frozen and looks quite lovely without all the boat traffic.  (From CC: the huge canal that runs behind the school is also frozen and covered with snow and looks very beautiful.) I can also report that the sidewalks in Moscow are either nicely cleaned or dangerous beyond belief. If you are on the shopping streets, you can walk without fear of death by slipping on your butt and having your head hit a mound of ice.  If, however, you are on any of the side streets - and that is the vast majority of sidewalks - you shouldn’t be outside walking.  My goodness but it is horrible out there.  However, if any of you have young children who are looking for promising and challenging careers, I would have them start to study Russian and become podiatrists specializing in women’s feet.  There is going to be a heaping helping of forty-something women who will barely be able to get into sneakers that are two sizes larger than needed. 

These young women are walking around in the most ridiculous footwear I’ve ever seen. Not only will their feet be a mess from mashing them into tight little wedges of leather, but their backs will be messed up, as will their leg muscles, and that is assuming they don’t fall on their skinny little behinds and die before they turn forty.  

I stopped in at the embassy to get a few things but since they just reopened yesterday, their shelves are rather bare.  I was able to snag a few bottles of French white, some fresh milk and a bunch of other things that weigh a whole lot. My back was aching by the time I got back but at least now we have two types of pickles to go with our wine and milk.  I also bought some frozen fish, so we’ll have a decent dinner tonight. (from CC – glad to know it!!)

One of Russia’s favorite ‘spies that did nothing’ has just gotten her own TV show here in Moscow.  The lovely Anna Chapman, who is also now on the Russian Youth Committee will take the TV channels by storm, at least for the first show.

I found a few more photos of Paris.  While the windmill in the photo is original it is now a fancy prop for a fancy restaurant. However, in our walks we discovered two more windmills that are still functional, albeit not in use.  We also marveled at the little wine commune, the only one in Paris, which still produces about six hundred cases per year and is the site of a grand wine fest in the fall.  We were walking on a small street the afternoon before New Year’s Eve when we came across this truck with meat hanging out of it. It was so fun to watch as the butcher managed to get a whole half a cow on his shoulders and to the applause of everyone on the street, he walked it into the butcher shop.  When he came back for more, he gave a perfectly lovely bow of appreciation for our applause. There are a few shots of our local bar where we repaired to welcome in the New Year, as well as a shot of George and Karen who celebrated their twentieth anniversary at the stroke of midnight.  Since we had been with them twenty years ago, we decided it would be a good idea to be there for this.

I made a big spinach salad last night filled with chopped egg, shredded carrots, another creative dressing and lots and lots of fresh spinach.  (CC: the memory of the wonderful flavor combination lingers yet today.) This was followed by a garlic and Parmesan risotto that was rich and gleaming and ever so delicious.  (CC: glad he could admit it – the risotto was fabulous!)  It really required a full-bodied red wine and we had just the ticket, which is a rare event at Casa Embee.  (For those of you scratching your heads in wonderment, he means that we seldom drink red wine, only white.)

Ciao, Cindy and Wm

Moscow Is Back To Work

Moscow is back to work today and just in the nick of time.  The grocery stores haven’t been replenished in a full week.  Russia, and especially Moscow, shut down for the first ten days of January. Today was the first day of work for adults and school for kids since the last week of December and the traffic confirms that all is back to normal. This afternoon at two, the side streets around the apartment were cluttered with fifty thousand dollar SUVs all idling while waiting for kids to get out of school. There must have been twenty of them, all angled and double parked, blocking access to three streets, oblivious to the needs of other motorists who actually thought that they were streets, not parking lots.  In one precious moment of gottcha, there were three tow trucks and five police supervising the removal of cars that were illegally parked outside the grocery store.  They were harvesting them like apples; in just the time it took me to shop I noticed that they had removed five cars.  I’m imagining that it will cost the owners plenty to retrieve them.

We had two more inches of snow last night but by noon either the workers or the weather, it being a comfy 33 degrees, had dispatched most of it.  There is quite a bit of brown slush but if the weather holds, we might get rid of that in the next several days. There is a strong wind that helped and then hindered my efforts to remove all the snow from the car. The wind seems to blow in two directions at the same time, which confounds me to no end.

I got back into cooking since coming back to Moscow.  On Sunday I made a simple roasted chicken with trimmings, while at the same time making a stock for the soup we had last night.  I made a rather interesting chopped cabbage salad with a fun dressing made up from bits of stuff we still had in the fridge or pantry.  The base was equal portions of whole grain mustard, mayo and olive oil, to which I added a bit of prepared ranch dressing and sesame oil. Mixed that all together and then added fresh black pepper, a handful of raisins, a touch of honey and a sprinkle of tarragon.  I mixed it with the cabbage and let it sit for an hour, mixing it up every ten minutes or so.  It was quite tasty with lots of flavors and textures.  The soup was delicious and filled with chicken, carrots, onions, garlic, herbs and pasta. Nothing like soup and salad to get the New Year off to a good start.

Speaking of good starts, our dear friend Brent started the New Year where he ended the old one, in a hospital.  He, like most men - myself included - don’t like to be disturbed when sick so we keep a low profile. The other day however he was on Skype and we quickly called him and I’m delighted to say that he looks great and sounds chipper.  I know he is still in a lot of pain that will most likely last for weeks, but his spirits seem strong.

We are looking forward to tomorrow when we can celebrate the fact that we’ll have seven and a half hours of daylight, tepid light for sure, but much better than the six hours fifty when we left. We like to celebrate the little things in life!  Speaking of celebrations, here is why Aeroflot doesn’t serve alcohol on their flights. Delta didn’t even let them on the plane!!

Happy days, Cindy and Wm

PS The pictures of the two cassoulets were before shots. They needed to be covered in a slow oven for three hours then taken out and topped with garlic laden breadcrumbs and olive oil and then placed in a hot oven uncovered until the crust is golden brown and crunchy.   

Christmas Past

It has been a relatively mild day here in Moscow, grey of course, but the temperatures were just above freezing.  Cindy tried her new routine of taking the bus so that she might sleep a few extra minutes. It seemed to work for her, but I was wide awake at five thirty - the normal time we get up - and just laid there quiet as a church mouse until the alarm went off at 6:20, at which point I jumped out of bed -much to the surprise of Cindy.

Once everything was cleaned up and I had sorted the emails, I decided to attack the car, which was buried under six inches of snow.  My, what a surprise awaited me when I tried to open the door; everything was coated with two inches of solid ice.  From what I could tell, it appears that it snowed, and then we must have had freezing rain and then another layer of snow.  It took me an hour to get the car free of all the ice and snow and then, just like when I learned to drive, I drove around the parking lot to make sure that all systems were working well.  Cindy now has a back-up just in case she misses the bus this week.

In looking back at our long holiday, I would have to say that the highlight was our all too brief time in Charles Town.  I had forgotten that Cindy had not been home since we left on August 2^nd.  I had been back two times and therefore had seen some of the grandkids, some of the kids and lots of the house.  She was just tickled to be back in our own room with our own big bed and a house full of family.  Megan and grandson Blake were at the house when we arrived, as were Colin and Meagan who had moved in the week before. They had gotten a lovely tree and had the tree as well as the whole house decorated for Christmas.  Our flight had been several hours late so we got home just before dark and the Christmas spirit was alive and well in the house, as was the party.  Not sure where we summoned the energy but Colin was outside grilling steaks, the two Megs were assembling salads and other foods, while at the same time plying us with Champagne as we played with Blake and Hannah.  After an evening filled with laughter, wine, great food and catching up, we staggered up to bed and collapsed for about nine hours. 

We spent the next several days taking long walks - runs for Cindy - and catching up with family and friends. Darling Megan had to leave early on Monday so we only had a few days with her, but they were intense and filled with fun. Colin and I did a heaping helping of cooking and we really enjoyed ourselves.  He is an accomplished cook but defers to me once in awhile, which allows me to avoid peeling the veggies.  We had lots of great meals with marvelous wines; in fact, I had Champagne every day I was there.  I’ve attached some food and family photos here for your entertainment. In addition to family meals, we had a small cocktail party for our neighbors and their kids to thank them for all they do to watch over the house while we are gone.

The afternoon of the cocktail party Cindy’s mother, aka EllaMom, flew in from the Twin Cities.  Colin and Meagan drove to Dulles to get her while Cindy and I drove to a little French restaurant about thirty minutes from the house to pick up our two Buche de Noels which we had ordered as a special holiday treat.  We also did some last minute shopping for the party and we got back to the house just as everyone else got back from the airport and started yet another happy reunion with toasts all around.  The party was a roaring success and it was lovely to have a house full of people and young kids, all of whom were dressed to the nines and on their very best behavior, at least when they were upstairs with the adults. I did have go down to the theater room once and give them my stern grandfatherly lecture on what should and shouldn’t happen at a party, but for the most part they were all angels and were rewarded with little Christmas gifts from Moscow.

Christmas came and went in a flash and all too soon it was time for us to repack for the trip back to Europe. We had brought two large suitcases, empty, from Moscow and we filled them with essentials that we can’t find here. On the twenty-seventh Colin drove EllaMom and her tiny little carry-on and the two of us with our four bags and two little carry ons, back to Dulles.  EllaMom’s flight was just about an hour before ours so we were able to make sure she was safe and sound at her gate and well taken care of before we headed to our United flight to Paris. After the long flight from Moscow to Dulles, this one seemed like a really short milk run. With strong tailwinds we made the trip in only seven hours and were outside the airport with luggage by seven.  We piled all our stuff into a taxi and had him take us to the airport Hyatt where I had made arrangements to store the luggage until we returned on the seventh. Freed from the heavy burden we hopped back in the taxi for the ride to our hotel in Montmartre. 

As expected, our room wasn’t ready so we walked around Sacre Coeur, early enough to be the only ones on the hill and in the square.  After about an hour of walking we headed for a café and had coffee and croissants, but what we really wanted was a shower and some sleep.  Hoping our room might be ready we headed back to the hotel stopping once to fortify ourselves with another coffee at our local bistro.  No luck on the room being ready; this is a very small ten-bedroom hotel with one staff member to clean each room.  So we sat in a small room that the family that runs the hotel uses for their dining room and we waited for our friends, who had arrived two days before, to show signs of life.  We finally spotted them coming up in their PJs to return the breakfast trays and arranged to meet them at the Bistro at noon.  We went out for another walk and got our second wind in time to join everyone for lunch.  It turned out to be a very long and lovely lunch with lots of Kirs, oysters, wine, more oysters and frites and then whatever their specials were with more wine. By the time we returned to the hotel, our bags had been placed in our room and Cindy and I collapsed for two hours.  The room was small - we knew it would be - but it was clean and had a big window. What is didn’t have was a proper shower.  It was just this little three-foot long tub with two humps in the bottom.  Getting clean each day was an exciting challenge. 

We ate and drank our way around Paris with our friends for six days with lots of walks and tours all over the place. We took buses and trains and would wander all around as our mood dictated. Sometimes we had a destination in mind but that almost never worked; most of the time it was just spur of the moment stuff, which always seemed to work. When in doubt we would all head in different directions and rendezvous for drinks at the bistro. Our last day together involved a long walk down the famous streets of downtown Paris to see the lovely lights and decorations and to marvel at the glorious day. We said our goodbyes over Champagne in one of the rooms; they had an early flight to the States and ours was several hours later that morning. 

We flew to Porto out of Orly Airport and I must say, it has grown a lot since my last visit. It is a very nice place, not as hard to navigate as Charles De Gaulle, and seems to be much more efficient.  We were flying on TAP, the official airline of Portugal, and we were very much impressed with every aspect of the two flights we had with them:  clean, modern airplanes staffed by smiling and attentive staff.  On the way back to Paris, we landed at Orly but had to take a train to Charles De Gaulle. What a fiasco that turned out to be.  We had purchased our tickets before leaving for Porto and we stood in line awaiting the train. I had thought it would be a special train with places for luggage and nice seats, but it was just an old Metro train that made fifteen stops before going non-stop from Gard du Nord to CDG. It stopped twice at CDG, first at Terminal 1 and 3, which is called Roissy Port and then to Terminal 2.  It seems that things have changed a lot in the past six months and the bus we were used to taking from Terminal 2 to the Hyatt no longer exists so we had to go all the way back to Roissy Port to await a shuttle bus to the Hyatt.  This added an additional hour to our journey, which meant that it took twenty minutes longer to go from Orly to the Hyatt than it did to fly from Porto to Paris!

We settled into our room at the Hyatt and headed to the club where we had some wine and snacks before walking across the parking lot to one of the ‘modest’ eating establishments. These are big chains that are all over France and we chose the Courtepaille, which is a great place to have a decent meal without spending a fortune. We had our last French fix:  Kir Royals, paté, duck confit, fish brochette, and Rosé wine before heading back to the hotel for a wonderful night’s sleep.  We flew on LOT, Polish National Airlines, and again we were wonderfully impressed.  They accepted all of our luggage without any additional fees, and then we waited in the Star Alliance lounge where we had a great breakfast. We flew to Warsaw and enjoyed the service and the smiles. It was a small Embraer 170, which was spacious and comfortable, and always on time.  It was a lovely way to end a fantastic holiday.  

Ciao, Cindy and Wm

Post Porto Partum

We have returned to Moscow and all things being equal, I’d rather be in Porto.  It is grey and slushy with mounds of dirt-darkened snow piled hither and thither.  The roads seem clear but most of the sidewalks remain unshoveled and treacherous.  Our four days in Porto were filled with warmth and rain and avalanches of smiles.  What a great undiscovered gem of a city.  It is filled with a mishmash of architectural styles that somehow all fit together. The old town has lots of little alleys with more coffee and pastry shops than you can imagine, and they are all filled, all the time.  Most of the older buildings are covered in blue and white tiles, some with intricate scenes of Porto history, others just whimsical depictions of nature.

Our dear friend Tom was there for the entire visit and we spent a good deal of time on various tour buses going in and around Porto. We all agreed that it would be a fine idea to visit in the late spring and explore all of the large gardens, parks and beaches that are just trolley rides away.  And by trolley, I mean real old-fashioned wooden trolleys, as well as modern light rail.  The streets of Porto have two directions, up or down.  Everything dumps into the Douro River and we walked and walked and walked, up and down the entire old town and then over the river to the Gaia side where all of the large Port Wine aging cellars are located. We walked up to Graham’s, which is a really amazing hike, and were treated to spectacular views of the river and Porto, as well as treated to a Port wine tasting that we enjoyed immensely.  While not a big fan of Port, I did learn a lot and will incorporate it into my wine classes.  I’m also not a big fan of Portuguese wines in general with the notable exception of Vinho Verde.  This is a young wine, low on alcohol and high on flavor, with just a hint of sparkle. It tastes of fresh fruit and sunshine and is always served ice cold. At one place where we ate, the waiter made a big show of pouring our glasses of Vinho Verde from a height of about two feet. What he lacked in precise aiming, he made up for in flare.  The food was good, not spectacular but certainly enjoyable, and served in immense portions. We always ordered the smaller of the two sizes offered and always ended up with too much food. We finally got smart and ordered two dishes for three people.

The one major exception to the quality of food was the dinner we had at the Pousada Palacio Freixo overlooking the Douro.  Tom had stayed there the night before we arrived and insisted on taking us to dine there to celebrate the New Year. What an extravagant treat!  French Champagne while seated in the drawing room of the Palace, followed by a dinner of fish and meat and veggies served in an elegant manner in a room with vaulted ceilings and frescos.  Three varieties of wine to accompany the dinner and then lovely local cheeses and nuts to finish the Port wines, which were poured with the compliments of the house.  Simply an amazing evening. 

Among some of the little gems of Porto, one stands out the most and that is the Livraria Lello-Prologo LIveriros.  This is one fancy bookstore, both from an architectural perspective and the sheer number of volumes.  While I’ve attached a few photos that I took I’m sharing this link with much better pictures. 

We did a little shopping this morning here in Moscow since there is nothing in the house and Cindy wants to make her famous lemon bread as New Year’s gifts for people at AAS.  The Russian Christmas was on Friday and I don’t think the store has restocked yet, so things looked rather tired and I limited myself to just the basics. The entire time I was shopping I could only think of the marvelous markets of Paris and Porto, with their luscious displays of fruit and vegetables and fresh meats and poultry.  One doesn’t come to Moscow to enjoy the shopping experience!

I’ll bore you with details of our time in West Virginia and Paris tomorrow. Today I need to get a few more loads of laundry done and finish the unpacking.  With luck, I’ll have time and energy to cook a chicken dinner to welcome us home. Last night we didn’t arrive at the airport until eight and then we had to wait for another family who arrived at another terminal.  We were welcomed to Moscow in the way that Moscow loves to welcome everyone, a traffic jam. Seems two cars hit each other and they blocked two of the three lanes leading from the airport to the main road to Moscow.  It took twenty minutes to go two kilometers, so we didn’t get home until ten. 

I’ll leave you with some photos of our marvelous time in Porto.  With best wishes for the New Year, Cindy and Wm.

A Haircut In Many Acts

Getting a haircut has always been a rather special event for me.  I can still remember my earliest haircuts from an Italian barber in Norwalk, CT.  He was just down the street from the apartment where we were living for about a year and my father would walk me down to the shop with him on Saturdays.  His shop was set back from the sidewalk and to enter it you had to pass two of the most magnificent topiaries on either side of the walk.  They were of his two dogs and it appears that he was as good with garden shears as he was with hair scissors, given that they looked just like the dogs that were always sleeping just inside the door.  I think I was about five and had to have a big booster seat but he talked to me just like he did with my father and I can remember the mesmerizing clickity, clickity, clickity of his scissors - always moving - as he would comb and clip, comb and clip, comb and clip.  When he was all done he would slip on a huge hand vibrator and run it across my shoulders and over my entire head.  Then he would powder my neck with talc and rub me with witch hazel, just like he did after shaving my dad.  We would walk out of the shop smelling the same and I felt ever so grown up.

From that time until now I’ve most likely had at least seven hundred and twenty-five haircuts, many of them good, most average, and some extremely horrible.  I love to get my hair cut in countries where I don’t speak the language and try with hand gestures to let them know what I want.  Most of the time it doesn’t matter, they do what they want, and sometimes it is hilarious and leads to great fun as we try to communicate during the cutting.  This can also be dangerous since hand gestures with scissors aren’t recommended.  In China they wouldn’t cut my eyebrows; it’s bad luck to cut face hair.  In Japan I’ve had a four foot five, seventy-year old woman cut my hair and then give me a shoulder massage that relaxed my entire body in three minutes.  In Adelaide, Australia I found an Italian barber who looked at my head for a few seconds and told me that I had been parting it on the wrong side for almost sixty years and when he cut my hair, parting it on the other side, the cowlick that I could never control never came back!

So naturally when we arrived in Oporto and I saw an old fashioned barbershop during a pre-dinner walk around town, I knew I needed to get my hair cut there.  The next morning after a nice walk I headed to the shop.  Through the glass door I could see four old-fashioned barber chairs with cracked blue leather seats and armrests and faded chrome footrests and trim.  There was one barber sitting in the back of the store and no customers so in I went. Having consulted the Google language tools before leaving the hotel I greeted him in Portuguese, “Bom dia, gostaria de um corte de cabelo, por favor.  Scissors só por favor.”  To my great surprise he seemed to understand my greeting and know that I wanted only a scissor cut, no machines.  He took my coat and while he was hanging it on a peg I was able to take in the entire small shop.  It was all wood - the floors, the cabinets, the counter tops - and that wood had been there a very, very long time.  Each of the four chairs had the identical kit in front of the chair:  the same number of scissors, combs, talc blowers, razors, etc.  The entertainment came from a shortwave radio that was tuned to an AM station playing some old Portuguese songs, and most likely had been doing so since the 1930’s.

He led me to his station and began the process of getting me ready for the haircut.  It was like a Japanese tea ceremony, filled with tradition and very specific rituals.  Adjusting the height seemed to take the most time.  I am not a tall man, but in Oporto I’m a giant, so he had to lower the seat to the point that I felt I was in a sports car.  Then came the fresh linen towel from the stack on the counter that he opened with great care and then shook a few times until it snapped before carefully tucking it around the back of my neck and smoothing any wrinkles with the flat of his hand.  Next came the cover, which was again whipped until it snapped like making a bed.  He moved it over me while it was still in the air and let it drape around me.  He adjusted the back so that my neck was completely covered and then reached for a safety pin to secure his creation. 

He then stepped back and just looked at my head for a moment or two before getting out his scissors and wooden comb.  And then it started, the clickity, clickity of his scissors, punctuated periodically by the chirping song of the Javanese finch in his little cage and the tiny tinkle of the little bell that hung beneath the bird’s perch.  I was mesmerized and in haircut heaven as I was transported back to my earliest memories of childhood.  No words were spoken, only small gestures on his part, as he would move my head the way he wanted it and then he would proceed to cut millimeters of hair at a time.  This went on for a good thirty minutes before he was happy with his work, at which time he began the preparation for shaving my neck and trimming around my ears.  This ceremony involved the moistening of a shaving soap tub, then whipping it into a froth with the shaving brush, followed by the gentle application around my neck and ears.  It was delicately scented and wonderfully warm and the brush was as soft as silk.  He proceeded to check the sharpness of the razor by brushing his calloused thumb over it, and satisfied with the result, began the shaving process.

When the shaving was done, he used the linen cloth behind my neck to rub away the moisture and dry my neck before taking the little talc dispenser - an ancient zinc bottle with a little rubber tube connected to a rubber ball pump - and spraying me with a fine layer of talc.  When he finally rubbed me with witch hazel, I knew that I had had one of the great haircut experiences.  What he did next was new to me.  He looked at me head on, like he was giving me an eye exam, but he was really checking to make sure that the sideburns were cut correctly and exactly even.  This took two tries before complete satisfaction.  He then produced a very small wooden comb and combed all the loose hairs from my head, before brushing it for a while to complete the clean up.  A small shoulder massage as he removed the cape and I was done.  I could scarcely move, partly because I was so relaxed, partly because I wanted it to last forever, but I finally got up and received another brushing on my shoulders before he got my coat.  The cost of this magnificent experience was only 7.5 Euros (about 10 dollars), but I gave him ten and thanked him very much for a wonderful experience.  I walked out of there just as I had done sixty years ago with my dad, happy and feeling very much like a child.

Happy Holidays From Moscow

Happy Retirement Barbara D'Aversa; sorry I couldn’t be there for the party.

We truly live in a world of ‘e’ everything.  As a result of living in Russia where we can’t receive mail, I didn’t get a single birthday card - which is to be expected. I did however receive more than thirty e-cards.  Five from airlines, four from hotel chains, four from cruise lines, six from online places like LL Bean and Amazon, and a host of others from friends and family.  I was also told to go onto Facebook where there were more greetings, and several songs were left on Skype.  It sure is nice to be able to stay in touch at long distances.   While all of them were wonderful, you must see the one from Carnival, a cruise line I’ve sailed with only once!

The house is filled with open luggage, scattered gifts, odd bits of clothing and some freshly polished pairs of shoes.  In short order all will be packed away and ready for departure tomorrow.  We are doing the old bag in a bag routine for this trip.  We really don’t need to take many clothes with us since we are going home and have an ample supply there. However we know we are going to be bringing back lots more stuff so we have a small bag in a larger bag so that we’ll have 2 extra suitcases for the return.  The good folks at the Hyatt at Charles De Gaulle airport have said that they will allow us to store the two big bags with them from the 28^th until we arrive there on the night before our trip back to Moscow, Jan. 7^th.  That will make things so much easier for us as we travel from Paris to Oporto and back.

The laundry has been going since six this morning so that I can make sure we leave everything here clean and also that what little we are taking with us is clean and fresh. We’ve been making lists of things for the cleaning lady to do while we are gone. It seems that in Russia, you pay the cleaning lady when you are gone whether she cleans or not.  So if all works out, we should return to a spotless apartment with flourishing plants.

Last night we had the leftover lamb, excellent, and the chicken covered in potato, very tasty, along with a fresh oriental Cole Slaw that I made with some stuff left in the fridge. We polished off the remainder of the Champagne and the French white. We got to bed early since Cindy had another early morning, this time playing Christmas Carols in the entry way of the school to get the kids in the spirit on this the last day of school.  A lovely touch if you ask me.

I took my last walk of this year in Moscow, marveling at the gridlock.  It appears that Moscow stops working at 1pm on Fridays, and everyone heads out to restaurants and bars in their cars.  Truly amazing today, with lines of people waiting to get into the trendier restaurants and equally long lines of working folks waiting to get into the fast food emporiums that surround out train station. There were throngs of people waiting at all the little kiosks that sell beer and by 2 pm I would guess that half of Moscow was loaded!

Moscow Christmas

Golden Glow from both the Church and Tree

I came across what I think is the prettiest Christmas tress in Moscow, and there are many of them. This one is in what could be called our neighborhood.  All the decorations are gold, just like the dome of the church behind it.  Very lovely and perhaps a good place to stop and wish everyone a very delightful holiday, whatever ones you celebrate.  Here is the one I love the most.

Christmas Bells and Balls

Since this is supposed to be about Moscow, I’ll most likely discontinue writing until I return in January. I’ll use the time to be with friends and family. If events warrant, I’ll perhaps post to the online site, but I’m hoping to take time away from computers so as to focus on being with people.

Best wishes to all and to all a good night.  Cindy and Wm

Birthday Bash Dinner

Who would have thought that a day that started out so crappy would end up being a total delight?  We had the best dinner we have had in either Bahrain or Moscow last night and the wines, well they were out of this world.  As you might have guessed, I decided to cook last night but I wanted to make it a very special meal since I knew in my head what I wanted for my birthday dinner.  I decided to splurge and went to a very, very high-end grocery store. This is the kind of store where they do a credit check on you before letting you in! This is the kind of store where they sell ten baby French green beans in a little package for only eight dollars! It is however, the only store that I knew would have what I wanted so off I went, shopping bag in hand and thousands and thousands of rubles at the ready.

This is a clean, well-lighted shop, almost devoid of people at four in the afternoon. I had my personal floor cleaner following me as I walked around in my snow sneakers leaving black melted snow and dirt with every step.  I started with the smoked salmon - they had about fifteen choices - and I decided on Scottish Smoked Salmon because it looked the best, had the freshest date on it, and was cheaper that some of the other varieties from Russia.  I lingered over the caviar, but with one ounce costing more than $100, I reluctantly moved on to the meat department.  I’ve not been in a Russian butcher shop yet - they are few and far between around here -but this little meat section was one of the most elegant I’ve seen outside of Harrods in London.

While the butchers here don’t wear straw hats, they do wear paper ones and they are women, not men.  I looked around and almost decided on rabbit but then I saw what I really wanted, tucked away in a little corner of the display case.  It was a perfect set of rack of baby lamb, two eight-bone racks, trimmed of most of the fat and all of the felt:  They just sat there glowing and calling out my name. With that in my bag, I went to the ready-made food display case. At this late hour I really didn’t want to start cooking the entire meal so I just looked for things that I thought would be great.  I found a lovely looking treat of eggplant layered with tomatoes and topped with what looked like some kind of cheese, but was really GARLIC.  I then saw these wonderful looking straw potato patties and I carefully read the first word on the label and sure enough it was potato, and that is what I asked for in Russian. I figured the second word was patty or something.  I saw and purchased six little broccoli blinis for the salmon, and then it was over to the fresh veggie area where I got one onion. The lady in produce weighed it and placed it in my basket; I guess no one wants to touch food.  Now so far, I had interacted with four people and all of them had smiles, greetings and lots of thank yous, well worth the prices they charge. 

I dashed over to the bakery section and got a crisp whole grain loaf of French style bread and three of the most adorable little pastries you have ever seen.  Two were fruit tarts, cherry and apricot, and the third was a Napoleon, and they were beautifully wrapped and placed in a violet box with matching ribbon for my hair.

I raced home, put on my cooking clothes and started to make the base that I would place the roasted lamb on.  It was caramelized carrots, onions, garlic and fresh ginger and it filled the apartment with tantalizing odors. While that slowly cooked I set the table and opened the red wine.  I prepped the salmon and the lamb and laid out everything I would need for the final cooking and assembly. 

I quickly shaved and showered and got into some clean clothes and by 5:15 I was ready to party.   When Cindy came home we had a quick Kir while finishing the blog and getting organized. She was mighty surprised that we were not going out but I told her she would not be disappointed, plus she would be able to get to bed early since she had a very early meeting the next day.   I opened a bottle of real Champagne and we sipped it as I received my lovely gifts. There was a homemade card, in Russian, a Russian child’s picture book called My First Thousand Words - which I love - and two extraordinary bottles of French white wine.  Soon it was time to retire to the dining room.

The first course was the salmon served with a curried crème fraiche and the blinis, which was accompanied by marvelous Chablis.  We lingered over the Chablis while I got the oven as hot as I could.  I then popped the potatoes and the eggplant dish into the oven while I seared the lamb chops.  Once they were brown and crispy on both sides out came the potatoes and eggplant and in went the lamb to finish cooking for about eight minutes.  I prepped the plates and as soon as the lamb came out, I placed the racks on the carrot dish and served it right away, along with a rich Cote du Rhone.  The first surprise for me was how perfect the lamb was cooked and how great it tasted.  It was much better that most I’ve had in good restaurants.  The second surprise came when Cindy asked if the potato dish was chicken. I was quite perplexed since Cindy has a great palate and I told her no, it was just potatoes.  Well, of course she was right. I had not gotten to the potatoes yet and when I did I realized that I had purchased two chicken breasts wrapped in potatoes, that darn second word on the card was chicken, not patty!  Oh goodness did we laugh.

The food, the wine, the conversation - all was just over the top and I was so happy I had decided to cook instead of going out.  You can take a visual look at The Birthday Dinner by clicking here. It is best viewed in Mosaic mode.

Cindy insisted that I sleep in this morning, which I did.  I took a long walk today and ended up at an optical shop where Cindy wanted me to price contact lenses. It was fun to go in with my prepared sentence and even more fun when they seemed to know what I was asking. I don’t think they were prepared for me to not purchase anything; I suppose most folks don’t window shop for contact lens!  I took a shortcut through a Metro stop; it was the fastest and warmest way to get across a major road.  Our good friend Robert from DC sent us this article from the Washington Post, which was most appropriate today. Most of the pictures are of our station, Belorusskaya, and I can assure you that every word in the article is correct.

One more day until we are heading home and I know that Cindy will want to sleep for days and days once we are back in Charles Town.  I’ll leave you with two items related to Moscow Traffic. The first is a clip of a new record for traffic jams. The next is a rather graphic example of Road Rage Moscow Style.

Best wishes to all, Cindy and Wm