The Stuff of Folk Songs

When we think of summer’s abundant berries, we usually think of the Far North, where cloudberries, cranberries, whortleberries, bilberries, and lingonberries flourish. 

But southern Russia is home to two prized berries that often escape the culinary eye: the ryabina (Sorbus aucuparia L.), known in English as the rowan or mountain ash berry, and the kalina (Viburnum opulus L.), the guelder rose. In keeping with the theme of this month’s issue, I wish I could ascribe these berries to traditional Cossack cuisine, but in fact the Cossacks ate the same foods as their southern Russian and Ukrainian neighbors. 

Even Nikolai Gogol, whose work is filled with mouth-watering descriptions of meals, gives food short shrift in his story of that proud Cossack, Taras Bulba. Gogol casts the Cossacks as ferocious and hard-living, and especially hard-drinking. When they are flogged for misbehavior, the punishment is “to many of them a trifle, only a little more stinging than good vodka with pepper.” When they set off on a campaign, their hetman warns them against getting drunk. Brandy, he says, is to be used only for medicinal purposes: “If a ball grazes you, or a sword cuts your head or any other part, attach no importance to such trifles. Mix a charge of powder in a cup of brandy, quaff it heartily, and all will pass off…”

The Cossacks were further advised to take minimal provisions into battle — no more than one pot of oatmeal and millet apiece, although each was allowed two horses. There’s no doubt that their gruel would have tasted better had they added some local berries, especially the ryabina. Because this berry contains so much sorbic acid, a natural bactericide, it can be stored all year without rotting, making it an excellent choice for soldier’s rations. Ryabina can be very harsh on the tongue until it is sweetened by the first frost, a chemical conversion that the kalina also undergoes, even though it contains more than 30 percent sugar to begin with. Both types of berry can be eaten fresh, with sugar or honey, or they can be preserved or dried in their natural form. But most Russian cooks like to turn them into jams, refreshing beverages, puddings, and even candies. 

Both the ryabina and the kalina are the stuff of folk songs (think “Oy, ryabina, ryabinushka” and the ubiquitous Kalinka). The kalina has further been immortalized in Vasily Shukshin’s famous story Kalina krasnaya, usually translated as “Snowball Berry Red.” Russians love the kalina for its beautiful flowers and brilliant red berries, not to mention its high proportion of Vitamin C, which in the past helped stave off diseases like scurvy. One traditional way of preparing kalina has long intrigued me. The berries are placed in earthenware pots with honey, malt, and a little water, then set in the great Russian stove to steam for several hours. 

Though I lack a Russian stove, my New England garden contains both a rowan tree and a showy viburnum. This summer and fall I plan to put both to good use. I’ll make a lovely tea from the rowanberries once they’ve been nipped by the first frost, and I’ll coat the kalina in sugar to serve with the tea. A Cossack, no doubt, would choose something heartier. He’d probably steep the berries in vodka, and with that choice it’s hard to disagree. In fact, I may just wash down my tea with a little ryabinovka.

Rowanberry tea

12 ounces dried rowanberries (ryabina)

2 ounces dried raspberries

1 ounce dried blackcurrant leaves

Mix the dried berries and leaves together and use them to brew a lovely herbal tea. 

(Adapted from A.K. Koshcheev and Yu. I. Smirnyakov, Lesnye yagody (Moscow: Lesnaya promyshlennost, 1986)

Snowball  Berries in Sugar

1 pound kalina berries

1⁄4 pound confectioner’s sugar

2 to 3 teaspoons cornstarch

Rinse the berries and place them in a large bowl. Mix the confectioner’s sugar and cornstarch, then sprinkle over the berries. Stir them gently in the sugar mixture to coat them well, then place them on a baking sheet to dry at room temperature for 10 to 12 hours.

(Adapted from A. K. Koshcheev, Dikorastushchie syedobnye rasteniya v nashem pitanii (Moscow: Pishchevaya promyshlenost’, 1980)