
Kiev. On being banished there for a couple of days last week, my expectations weren't high, having been exposed recently to other capital cities from the erstwhile eastern bloc. In my experience, the aesthetic of these places ranges from the drab dreariness of Moscow and Belgrade, to the Disney-esque spicky-span perkiness of Riga. Not a great recommendation at either end of the spectrum.
And so, it came as a pleasant surprise to find a charming and cosmopolitan city, with tree-lined avenues, cobbled streets and elegant squares. Driving in from the airport, the gilded d

My personal mission whilst there was to track down the real Chicken Kiev...not least to confirm to myself that it really exists, and it isn't merely a construct from King's Road Bistros in the sixties.
On the first evening I was comprehensively thwarted. On asking in the hotel for a restaurant that was both scenic and traditional, we ended up literally on the Dnieper, in a heavily built wooden boat, the interior of which had been

Tatyana, our dirndl-clad waitress, conveyed as much by facial expressions as by dint of her very broken english that she would not recommend Ukrainian wine, and steered us instead towards a white georgian vintage, that at first gasp took the enamel off the teeth, but - as is generally the case - by the second glass had settled down to being perfectly drinkable. And to go with it, we ended up having vast bowls of soup, sunk within which were large and unexpected chunks of flora and fauna, which were followed by a rich variety of dumplings, stuffed variously with liver, and cabbage, and potato, and 'meat'...all accompanied by bowls of sour cream and a towering pile of fried potato cakes. It was all sticks-to-tiny-ribs stuff, and by the end of the second course we were forced to concede defeat, and wave away Tatyana's suggestions that we move on to yet more dumplings - filled with cherries this time - for dessert. Of Chicken Kiev, or anything even remotely resembling it, there had been no sign whatsever on the menu - but it was certainly with a sense that we could face anything that the frozen wastes of the steppe could throw at us that we made our way outside ...to our waiting taxi.
And on the following evening...success! As a welcome relief from a day of windowless, air-conditioned meeting rooms, we emerged into evening sunshine and the calm at the end


We ended up, as the result of his serious contemplation, at a place called The Corsair, and decided to sit outside, since it was still - we mistakenly thought - just about early enough in the year still to do so. More georgian wine - our waitress steered us firmly away from the Azerbaijani bottle we'd thought looked interesting - and in fact a pro-georgian theme within Kiev began to emerge...which, given the political environment, was hardly surprising.
Pickled vegetables, yet more dumplings, and finally, Chicken Kiev! Looking like nothing so much as an enormous scotch egg... suspiciously perfectly formed, it looked more like the p

Next week, by chance, I'm in Mumbai. Maybe I should see how I get on there in search of the real Chicken Tikka Masala!
Tonight's dinner:
Risotto of Funghi Porcini
Plaice Meuniere with Mange-touts.
Raspberry Soufflés
2 comments:
Have fun with your Mumbai quest...;-)
I love how you described finding charm and cosmopolitanism in an unexpected place.
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