When I was very young, there was a tradition in the country - to celebrate the 7th of November. We also celebrated other dates, now half-forgotten, and that's all. In the morning they gathered for a demonstration, and then in the kitchen everything was fried and steamed in anticipation of guests.
As a lover of delicious food, these days have always inspired me a lot.
First, a huge amount of lemonade.
I don’t know why, it’s like we always had it in consolidated access. At least I could go and buy a bottle for my pocket-sized things, but... When the lemonade lined up in the corner behind the refrigerator, my soul became more cheerful. I didn't have to decide what I wanted more - ice cream or soda.
The stomach, however, gurgled desperately a couple of hours later, because it was difficult to break away from the lemonade. I could have blown out three bottles in a row, Now I remember myself, I think - I had a tinned stomach!
Secondly - a huge amount of delicious.
Salads, this, of course, was also sacred, but salads were somehow not my favorites
At home, belyashi and manti were considered the main festive dishes.
Not because on ordinary days they couldn't afford meat, no. It's just that both take a huge amount of time to prepare. Especially manty.
I remember how the meat was twisted, and then the onion was in it, and the minced meat was kneaded for a long, long time - it was supposed to become juicy and homogeneous.
Then my mother kneaded a tight dough, kneaded it on the table for a long time, and the dough became elastic, smooth. She rolled it into a long rope, cut that rope into pieces. Each piece was supposed to be flattened with the spirit of a crow, and then rolled out with a rolling pin. And on these juices, meat was invested and they were pinched in a cunning way.
A huge mantle pot was placed on the stove (well, or a mantle pot, as some say). It was made of aluminum. Water was boiling at the bottom. A second tier was installed on it - without a bottom, with four or five sheets in a hole.
These sheets were smeared with vegetable oil, and then manti were laid on them.
By the end of the preparation, a magical mantle spirit was floating throughout the apartment, from which saliva began to flow, and I was like a magnet beckoning to the kitchen. And there the whites were already crunching in the pan ...
Ieh.
Until now, my mother's belyashi and manti love more than many fashionable dishes.
And what kind of food do you associate with childhood and the holiday?