We remembered the other day with friends periods of total poverty and general lack of money. I think the nineties - especially their beginning, when both money and food disappeared, many were engraved in the memory.
Well, for someone, these years were additional to the hungry students. In general, it was fun. Fun in quotes, of course.
And the most accurate definition that the menu of those times could give is... "dreary". But really, the food did not differ in the nuances of tastes, but in the degree of sadness. And psychologically it was just understandable. Because many did not live, but survived.
The bad news is that even when you are in survival mode, it is very difficult to stuff something inedible into yourself.
The friend laughed that his parents then told him:
- It's just food! Food is needed in order not to stretch your legs. Treat it not easier, ate - and okay.
However, when from day to day something deliciously bland, empty, then “just food” becomes something that cannot be pushed into oneself. A symbol of longing and hopelessness.
As soon as I did not dodge to make this "just food" at least a little... delicious.
Until now (and not with pleasure) I remember the "delicacies" of those times. How do you like semolina cutlets, the taste of which was given by the bouillon cube? And what about "caviar" from the same semolina and a small amount of herring? And the "mechanically deboned" minced chicken cutlets, in which, along with the ground bones, there were completely not ground feathers? This minced meat entered the stalls in huge briquettes. And cutlets were far from being an everyday meal. Pork liver, chicken legs (I still try to imagine the size of cr, from which these poles were chopped off) ...
Well, okay, something I got carried away by transfers. And I was going about the most dreary dishes.
For example, a colleague's “most dreary” was soup a la cabbage soup, made of gray cabbage crumb without any meat component.
In order for the soup to be rich, more sunflower oil was added to the frying. And it is good if there was sour cream, but if it was not…. That is generally melancholy.
For another colleague, “thick spaghetti” became the “main yearning”. The parents were lucky - they got somewhere a few boxes of chicken Knorr bouillon cubes and a huge amount of long noodles a la spaghetti in cardboard boxes.
First, they cooked soup from a cube and spaghetti (well, that is, spaghetti in broth), and then, when the soup began to behave strangely - him inward, and he - outward, they adapted to make "thick spaghetti".
That is, the bouillon cube was kneaded, sunflower oil was added there, everything was mixed (in a frying pan), and boiled noodles were sent to this mixture.
- It stuck together into a single monolithic piece, and the main taste in all this was salty - thanks to the cube, - he said.
Well, my soup became a symbol of longing and empty shelves. They called him the serpent.
Water, potatoes, carrot and onion fried. Salt. This soup was not cooked for nutritional value or taste, no. This soup was needed in order to eat bread, as I understand it. Because it was unrealistic to get enough of them.
On good days, finely chopped sausage or sausages were added to this soup at the frying stage.
The only good news is that the “crisis” in our family did not last long. Parents were able to quickly adapt to new realities, and I was no longer a child, I was learning to earn as best I could.
But I don't want to repeat this. And yes, every time it comes to the nineties and survival, I think back to Margaret Mitchell's novel, Gone with the Wind. There, one of the main character's goals was that her family would never go hungry again.
Probably everyone who survived the collapse of their world has such a thing.
Shl. And what is your most "dreary" dish?