Tolstoy's Table

As cold weather sets in, we invariably turn to hearty and warming foods. Nowhere is this truer than in Russia, where even a simple glass of freshly brewed tea does wonders to warm both body and soul. It’s a little more time-consuming to make the best foods of winter, when there are no garden-fresh vegetables to toss in a salad or steak to throw on a grill. Slow cooking is needed to coax the flavor from gnarly root vegetables and to tenderize tougher cuts of meat. But if we think we’re pressed for time in our modern lives, we might consider what the cold season was like for Lev Tolstoy’s wife, Sofia, who had to oversee a household of thirteen children in addition to her cantankerous, vegetarian husband. 

Each day, Sofia worked hard to compose nourishing menus. The Tolstoys’ cook, Nikolai Rumyantsev, had formerly been a flutist in Prince Nikolai Volkonsky’s serf orchestra, but when he lost his teeth to decay, he was unable to continue playing, and the Tolstoys took him into their employ as a cook. At first, Nikolai was a disaster in the kitchen. From Sofia’s diary entries, we know that his initial cooking efforts were less than successful (his beignets were as tough as the soles of shoes). But eventually he proved as talented in the kitchen as in the orchestra, making beignets so light that the family dubbed them “Nikolai’s Sighs.” This name was not just metaphorical – as the battercakes swelled on the griddle, Nikolai would blow air into the corners to puff them up even farther, then quickly fill them with jam.

The Tolstoys kept to a strict routine, with lunch served at one o’clock for everyone except the master himself, who arrived just before the table was cleared at two or two-thirty. At lunchtime, the children were spared their father’s rigid meal, which each day consisted only of oatmeal and a small pot of prostokvasha, a soured-milk product like yogurt. Dinner was served promptly at six, with two servants presiding. Their presence troubled Tolstoy to no end, but he apparently yielded to his wife on this point. At dinner, the entire family enjoyed four courses of vegetarian foods, followed by coffee. Evening tea was much more informal. The family gathered in the parlor to enjoy cookies, jam, honey, and tea from a steaming samovar.

In 1874, Sofia and her brother Stepan compiled a cookery book of the family’s favorite recipes, complete with a humorous title page stating that the manuscript had been passed by the official censor. The nearly two hundred recipes give a good idea of the kinds of dishes the Tolstoys enjoyed. Sofia’s worldliness shows in her instructions for “Sabayon,” “Bavaroise,” and “Stufato.” At the same time, she includes a large number of recipes making use of black bread crumbs and semolina, very much in the Russian style. The book also offers up useful household hints, such as “How to Cook Spinach So That It Remains Green” and “Aunt Pelageya’s Elixir for Teeth.” The manuscript is unsystematic, running not from soup to nuts but from a Viennese Cake to a remedy for cockroaches. In between, we are treated to such delicacies as the flaming “Plump-Pudding” that the Tolstoys’ English governess, Hannah, prepared, and “Anke’s Cake,” a lemon-filled layer cake baked for special occasions. Sofia also records a recipe for koumiss, the fermented mare’s milk drunk by Central Asian nomads. Her version is made from cow’s milk and is intended to ease Tolstoy’s frequent stomach upsets.

My favorite dessert recipe in the book is for a warm apple compote, perfect for the cold season now upon us. Sofia’s recipe reads: “Take 10 sour apples, cut them into pieces, mix them with sugar in a frying pan, add a cup of jam or candied peel or apple rind; turn this hot mass out onto a plate, then whip 6 egg whites with sugar, make a border, sprinkle it with almonds, and place it in the Russian stove an hour before serving.” My rendition produces a marvelous, showy dessert, with billows of golden meringue drifting over a base of tart apples.

Sofia Tolstaya’s
Hot Apple Compote

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

3 pounds tart apples, peeled, cored, and finely chopped

1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

11⁄4 cups sugar

6 tablespoons apricot jam

1⁄4 cup diced candied orange or lemon peel

6 egg whites, at room temperature

1⁄4 cup slivered almonds

Melt the butter in a large skillet. Add the finely chopped apples. Sprinkle them with the lemon juice and 1⁄4 cup of the sugar, stirring to coat them well. Cook, covered, over medium-low heat for about 8 minutes, until the apples are soft but still hold their shape. Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the jam and candied peel.

Lightly grease a shallow 3-quart baking dish. With a slotted spoon transfer the apples to the dish and spread them evenly.

Preheat the oven to 300o F.

Beat the egg whites until they form soft peaks, then gradually beat in the remaining 1 cup of sugar, 1 tablespoon at a time, until a stiff meringue is formed. Using a spatula, lavishly spread the meringue around the edges of the baking dish, leaving an opening in the center for the apples to peek through. Sprinkle the meringue with the slivered almonds.

Bake for 1 hour, until the meringue is puffed and golden. Serve immediately.

Serves 8 amply.

From The Winter Vegetarian, by Darra Goldstein (Perennial Books, 2000)