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Back in the USSR >> Restaurant Kremlin recreates the lost world of Soviet dining |
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by MARK SLUTSKY “Authentique Cuisine of the CCCP” read the sign, and with a description like that, how could I resist? From the moment I first set eyes on it, I knew I was one day to eat at Restaurant Kremlin. If it had just advertised Russian food, my interest wouldn’t have been as piqued, but, “Cuisine of the CCCP?” Really? What would that mean—bread lines? Bureaucracy? Collectivized busing? Restaurant Kremlin is situated in an office building at the bottom of steep Beaver Hill, and its windows offer a nice view of the surrounding skyscrapers, if that’s your thing. It’s got a big dining room adorned with various Soviet kitsch and memorabilia: red flags at every table, a Stalin t-shirt, Lenin miniatures, chalkboards with Cyrillic slogans. The Christmas decorations interacted with the Soviet aesthetic interestingly. Fittingly, the first page of the menu has the stern heading “Restaurant Conditions,” where the various minimums ($20 on Fridays, $25 on Saturdays, plus $8 for the entertainment—which, thankfully, were ignored) are stated, as well as a reminder that tax is not included. That tone extends to Kremlin’s flyer as well, which asks, “Did you taste our food?” in a tone that seems unnecessarily accusatory. At the end of the room is a small stage, which every weekend features various local Russian musicians—when we dined there, a guitar wizard in a tuxedo and a singer with bright crimson locks provided the entertainment. There’s nothing particularly Soviet about the food itself, which is made up of various Russian standards. The borscht ($4.50) was very pleasant, served in a lovely ornamented ceramic bowl (with matching oversized wooden spoon). It was relatively light for that type of soup—not as heavy on the beets as some variations. The menu described the baklajani ($5.25) as “eggplants full of taste,” and the description was accurate—maybe a little too accurate, as much of the taste came from a generous serving of mayonnaise, a condiment that was to dog us through the meal. There was a lot of mayonnaise. Still, the crispy broiled slices of aubergine elicited a favourable reaction all around. The layered herring salad ($9.75) also featured much of it as a dressing, and the strong taste of the fish mixed with the mayo interacted with strong memories I had of a night spent years ago drinking too much vodka and eating the stuff. Thankfully the mayo was kept away from the marinated grebi mushrooms ($5.50), although they were flavoured strongly with mustard seed and had a perfumed taste to them. A big plate of boiled varenekes—or pierogies, as you may know them—($10.99) was probably the biggest hit of the night. They really were delicious, stuffed with potato and served with caramelized onions and a bowl of sour cream for dipping. Also successful were the Russian beef meatballs ($11.99), which we had with a side of kasha buckwheat. The beef blineke ($10.99) was deemed a winner as well, a hot crêpe-like blintz folded up burrito-style with beef and served with side of potato salad (made with peas, carrots and a surprisingly modest portion of mayo), sliced pickles and coleslaw. Of course it would have been outrageous to enjoy a meal like that without the help of some vodka. Kremlin serves it in about five different-sized decanters—100 millilitres, 150 ml, 250 ml etc—and while we weren’t certain exactly how many millilitres we wanted each, 150 seemed to serve three of us fine. The decanter itself was a lovely glass pyramid, and the shot glasses were thoughtfully pre-chilled and frosty, which made the Moskovskaya go down all the smoother. As did the Russian pop songs, and the psychedelic projected videos. The food may have been a bit uneven, but overall I think we enjoyed our strange trip to Restaurant Kremlin. E-mail eattothebeat@gmail.com Restaurant Kremlin |
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