The All-Important Tavern

Boris Kustodiev’s painting Moscow Tavern (1916) captures a world that was soon to vanish. Here, old-fashioned cabbies, wearing the telltale long beards and caftans of Old Believers, enjoy a break from their work as they relax over tea.

The first tavern, or traktir, in Russia dates back to the sixteenth century. Originally these were way-stations where travelers could put up their horses for the night, and get a bed and a very basic meal (and a shot of vodka). With the rise of rail travel in the second half of the nineteenth century, traditional taverns began to disappear, and the word traktir came to refer to a second-class restaurant, one that served exclusively Russian food, unlike the fancier restaurants that boasted foreign fare.

In Alexander Ostrovsky’s 1871 play The Forest, Arkasha Shchastlivtsev declared that, for Russians, the tavern was more important than anything. And indeed, Russia’s larger cities boasted hundreds of them, which catered to vastly different clienteles. Kustodiev’s painting portrays the interior of a cabmen’s tavern. Here the cabbies were able to feed themselves cheaply while their horses rested in the yard. Although the scene here is very proper, other Moscow taverns were frequented by the criminal underworld, and bore nicknames like “Siberia” and “Hard Labor.” Yet other taverns catered to the more exclusive merchant class, such as the famous Testov’s in Moscow, which was known for its excellent pies. Typical offerings at Testov’s included cold sturgeon with horseradish, caviar, crayfish soup, fish or kidney solyanka (soup) with savory pies, roast suckling pig, and veal.

Even though the cabbies enjoyed less regal fare, the food was abundant. To the right we see a zakuska buffet laden with crayfish, smoked ham, a larded pork roulette, and half-sour pickles. But the real attraction – literally taking center stage in the painting – is the tea, which at these taverns was always served as a para, in twos – including both a large teapot of hot water, and a separate small pot that held the brewed tea or zavarka, which was set upon the larger teapot. In this way each person could fix tea according to taste – strong, medium, or weak. Note the old-fashioned (some would say uncouth) way the cabbies are drinking their tea, from deep saucers. They poured the hot tea into the saucers, then blew on it to cool before drinking.

Kustodiev’s attention to detail gives us a good sense of the tavern’s ambience. We can see that the patrons enjoyed music, originally supplied from a mechanical orchestrina but by the twentieth century a gramophone, whose speaker here is aimed right at the tea drinkers. The red walls radiate a deep, warm glow that conveys a sense of comfort. Kustodiev himself remarked of this painting that he used the rich reds and greens of Novgorod icons to convey something deeply Russian. And in fact an icon of St. Nicholas, the patron saint of Russia, hangs prominently on the wall. The sideboard displays teapots large and small, painted in bright floral patterns, while the wall in the niche holds vibrant painted trays from the nearby village of Zhostovo. Along with samovars, these trays came into fashion when tea drinking became popular in late nineteenth-century Russia.

The waiters (polovye) are dressed in their typical costume of loose cotton pants and tunic, bleached to a dazzling white and tied with a sash. Unlike the grander ofitsianty found in high-class restaurants, tavern waiters did not wear frock coats. For the most part they were peasants from Yaroslavl province whose parents had contracted them to five-year apprenticeships. By the end of their training they were exceptionally nimble and fast.

With the 1917 Revolution, leisurely teas at cozy taverns like this one disappeared. In their stead came cafeterias and colorless teahouses that served weak and poor-quality tea in cloudy glasses. Only in post- Soviet Russia’s nostalgic recreation of the past have taverns once again become sites of leisure and pleasure for Muscovites. RL

Herring in Dill Sauce

Herring was typical Moscow tavern fare. If you are lucky enough to find fresh herring, by all means use it. Most of us, though, will need to buy salt herring and soak it overnight.

1 pound herring
1/2 cup olive oil
1/2 cup red wine vinegar
2 tablespoons snipped fresh dill
2 teaspoons sugar

If using salt herring, soak it overnight in milk or buttermilk to cover. The next day, rinse and pat it dry. Cut off the head and remove the fins. Slice the herring down the belly and open it flat. Remove the backbone and cut the fish on the diagonal into 1-inch slices.

Mix together the remaining ingredients and pour the sauce over the herring slices. Chill for several hours before serving.

Serves 6 as a first course; up to a dozen as a zakuska.