Golden Autumn had already settled on St. Petersburg when we arrived in this glorious city at the end of September. The fluttering aspen along the Neva River and the linden trees in the spacious palace grounds were turning yellow; the air was crisp and cool. Our intention was to explore the artistic and culinary riches of St. Petersburg before boarding a river boat and cruising down the Neva, across Lake Ladoga, into the Baltic Waterway and finally down the Volga to Moscow.
Russia’s artistic riches are almost too abundant to fathom. This vast country has produced literature, symphonic music, classical ballet, painting and architecture of the highest order. In addition, Russia’s folk art tradition brings color and depth of meaning to this ancient, diverse and complex culture. Russian folk music, folk dance, fairy tales and hand crafts reveal a dignity and respect for precision, detail and patience that only a culture of scarcity and brutal weather conditions can produce. The creation of icons, which combines, art, craft and ministry, is one of Russia’s greatest contributions to the world, and icons were everywhere to be seen during our time in Russia.
People who have never been to Russia probably know at least one significant fact about St. Petersburg: It is the home of the Hermitage Museum, housing a world class art collection, second only to the Louvre in Paris in size and scope, deposited in five magnificent Classical and Baroque palaces, which are in themselves among the most beautiful buildings in the world. We visited the Hermitage on three separate occasions during our time in St. Petersburg, even touring the warehouse area in a separate location where large items such as entire suites of furniture and elaborately decorated Turkish tents, which are not on display at the museum, are kept. One cannot hope to see even a fraction of the contents of the Hermitage in three visits, but we saw what we could.
| A Russian guide speaks Japanese as the tourists View the da Vinci. |  |
And we were grateful that the works of even the world’s greatest artists, Leonardo da Vinci, Rembrandt, Michelangelo, and the other giants, are accessible to every viewer, who can stand right in front of each painting or sculpture and look at it up close, free from plastic shields and security buzzers. In the Gold and Diamond Rooms, of course, the items are displayed in glass cases for obvious reasons. We viewed beautifully worked gold crowns, headdresses, earrings and necklaces, some of very ancient origin, and an overwhelming collection of jewelry, swords and even decorative equipment for horses, encrusted with huge diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, pearls and other precious stones.
These items belonged to various Tsars and Empresses, most notably Catherine the Great, who owned 15,000 dresses, almost all of which were decorated with jewels and gold embroidery, and many of which are on display in the Hermitage. The Gold and Diamond Rooms, if not the royal palaces, gardens and coaches themselves, are silent testimony to the inevitable necessity of the Russian Revolution. Indeed, the entire city of St. Petersburg, founded by Peter the Great in 1703, is a monument to the excesses of the Baroque Era, beautiful though it was. Peter, whose personality combined equal parts of brilliance and cruelty, was determined to turn the heads of the Russian people away from the ancient Tartar culture and the influence of Turkey and toward France and Holland, whose “modern” ways he admired and envied. In Peter’s view, France was the most advanced and cultured country in the world, and it was through Peter that Russia’s love affair/obsession with all things French began.
We visited Catherine Palace in nearby Pushkin Town, and Peterhof, Peter’s own estate on the Bay of Finland, both designed to outshine Versailles with room after room of gold encrusted carved columns, painted ceilings adorned with more gold, sparkling crystal chandeliers and suites of elaborately carved and gilded furniture. Peter, along with one of his very capable serfs, designed and engineered the complex series of fountains on the grounds of Peterhof, today a magnate for tourists until the winter months when snow and ice prevent the fountains from functioning.
| Through yellow linden Leaves, the five gold domes of the Old palace chapel |  |
A bit satiated with the Baroque and Rococo glories of Eighteenth Century architecture, we welcomed our afternoon at Ha kyxhe (pronounced na kukchne, meaning “in the kitchen,”) a restaurant and cooking school where chefs Oleg Zagorodnyk and Aly Yakcheev introduced us to the hearty, down to earth charms of Russian cooking. We were greeted by the restaurant cat, a well-fed, fluffy white beauty who keeps the customers entertained while their food is being prepared in the open kitchen. In between cooking seared tuna and grilled vegetables for the lunch crowd, Chef Oleg taught us how to make Borscht, the national soup of Russia.
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Borscht is a healthy combination of finely chopped beets, potatoes, cabbage, carrots and onions, sautéed in butter and then simmered for about half an hour in broth, either beef, chicken or vegetable. A little garlic, salt and pepper are added for flavor, along with a slice of chopped lemon (or a little vinegar) to maintain the bright red color of the beets. Borscht is served with a dollop of sour cream and a sprig of fresh dill on top. We ate the Borscht we made with Chef Oleg, and it was beyond delicious. He told us that there are at least thirty different recipes for Borscht in Russia, depending on regional preferences. To make your own Borscht, which makes a perfect lunch along with some dark bread with butter or cheese, check Kathleen’s recipe in “A Russian Tea” in the World of Tea Parties section of myteaplanner.com. Chef Oleg gave Kathleen’s Borscht recipe his seal of approval, although he seemed to think that pureeing the soup after cooking the vegetables turned it into more of a “gourmet” dish. We ate Borscht a few days later on the cruise ship bound for Moscow. The chef on our ship added a little caraway seed to the Borscht, which I thought was quite tasty.
Back at Ha kyxhe, we needed dessert, and Chef Aly taught us to make Blini, which are Russian Crepes. He insisted that a cook should develop a feeling for the correct consistency of the batter rather than measuring the ingredients exactly. Blini batter should resemble heavy cream in texture. The ingredients included flour, a little sugar, a little salt, equal amounts of milk and kefir, a dollop of sour cream, one or two eggs, and a little melted butter. These had to be whisked vigorously in a large mixing bowl with a large wire whisk, not an electric mixer. Chef Aly may be young, but his culinary training is old school. The Blini batter needs to be poured from a ladle into a lightly oiled skillet while one tilts the pan until the entire bottom is covered with a very thin layer of batter. As the Blini cooks briefly over medium heat, the chef watches the edges to see when they start to brown slightly. When this occurs, he picks the Blini up by the edges and flips it over, cooking it for a few more seconds until lightly browned. Somehow, Chef Aly manages this process without burning his fingers; I used disposable gloves to protect my fingertips. Blini should be brushed with melted butter as soon as they are removed from the pan and stacked on a plate until all the batter has been used.
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Here is my guess at the ingredient measurements that Chef Aly and I used in preparing our Blini:
2 cups of all-purpose flour
1 cup milk
1 cup kefir
1 rounded tablespoon sour cream
2 eggs
1 teaspoon salt
2-3 tablespoons sugar
1-2 tablespoons cooking oil or melted butter
2 tablespoons fresh poppy seeds
2 cups of all-purpose flour
1 cup milk
1 cup kefir
1 rounded tablespoon sour cream
2 eggs
1 teaspoon salt
2-3 tablespoons sugar
1-2 tablespoons cooking oil or melted butter
2 tablespoons fresh poppy seeds
Blini can be filled and folded over with savory fillings such as sautéed mushrooms, cheese, chopped cooked meat with fresh herbs, or even caviar and sour cream. Kathleen offers this latter combination in her Blini recipe in our Russian Tea Menu in myteaplanner.com. Kathleen’s Blini, by the way, are made with buckwheat flour, giving them an earthy, rustic quality. At Ha kyxhe, we ate our Blini with sour cream and honey, and Chef Aly added poppy seeds to the batter for some of the Blini to create an extra delicious and quintessentially Russian treat.
We learned as our travels continued that sour cream is the essential condiment at every Russian meal, dolloped on top of porridge and fresh fruit for breakfast, into the soup at lunch and on the potatoes, cabbage and meat at dinner time. Later, when touring the Cosmonaut Museum in Moscow, we learned that the Russian Cosmonauts, the first human beings in outer space, were sent on their mission with packages of dehydrated sour cream.
Before leaving beautiful St. Petersburg, we had two more truly memorable experiences, a visit to the Church of the Spilled Blood, built between 1883 and 1907 to commemorate the 1881 assassination of Tsar Alexander II and an evening performance of Peter Ilych Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake in the Mikhailovsky Theatre. The Mikhailovsky Theatre, built in 1833 on St. Petersburg’s Arts Square, has an elegant Neo-classical exterior. Its interior, however, is a rococo confection with four tiers of box seats along the right and left walls and a charming parterre. The décor imitates a Romanov palace with velvet curtains, swags and chair upholstery, sparkling mirrors and crystal chandeliers and a stunning painted ceiling dome by the Italian artist, Giovanni Busato. Named after the Grand Duke Michael Pavlovich, and built by decree of Tsar Nicholas I, the Mikhailovshy is one of the oldest ballet and opera theaters in Russia.
Our evening with Swan Lake was a delight for the senses and the spirit. The large cast of thirty-six very able dancers, led by Svetlana Bednenko as Odette-Odile and Victor Lebedev as Prince Siegfried, mesmerized us with their virtuosity, artistic sensitivity and warmth while the orchestra, conducted by Pavel Klinichev, brought the magic of Tchaikovsky’s music to life. And the costumes and sets were as gorgeous as the theater itself.
People watching at the Mikhailosky was also a treat. No American style jeans and sweatshirts at the ballet for the Russian gentlemen, and certainly not for the ladies. These ballet attendees were out for a night of glamor in their chic and colorful dresses with just the right sparkling necklace to complete their costumes. They seemed to be channeling Catherine the Great herself! The snacks also fit the occasion and certainly eclipsed the intermission fare we have eaten at American ballet and opera events. Elegant couples snacked and sipped on open-faced caviar sandwiches and champagne, chocolate torte, mini Pavlovas and Napoleons. I noted a charming mother and young daughter, equally stylish in their attire, sitting at a café table where the girl was eating, with perfect table manners, a generous serving of chocolate gelato from a beautifully shaped dessert glass (no Styrofoam cups at the Mikhailovsky!)
It was inspiring to witness the Russian people’s love and appreciation of the ballet for the glorious art form it is. Contemporary Russians also love their churches, and they are meticulously repairing those that were neglected during the soviet era. In some cases, the Russians are completely rebuilding the churches that were simply blown up by soviets in the dark days of religious persecution. Icon artists are also busily at work creating new Icons in both the ancient Byzantine style and in the more Western Realistic style of the French-obsessed Seventeenth century.
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The creation of Icons, visual depictions of Biblical events, particularly in the lives of Jesus and Mary, began around 988 when Russia embraced the Orthodox form of Christianity, imported through Greece from the Byzantine Empire in Constantinople. Because Christianity came to Russia from the East rather than from Western Europe, Russian Orthodox churches reflect the Eastern architectural style, which includes a square footprint with one to several onion-shaped domes topped with large gold crosses on the roof. The domes themselves are often covered with gold leaf, and gold leaf is used extensively in the creation of Icons, especially to depict the halos of the saints. Icons typically cover the interior walls of Russian Orthodox churches, especially the iconostasis, a screen with central double doors which separates the nave of the church, where the worshippers stand, from the sanctuary, where the altar is located.
An excellent example of neo-Medieval Russian style church architecture is the Church of the Spilled blood, located on the Griboedov Canal in St. Petersburg. Funded by the Imperial Family and private donors, this magnificent memorial church was built on an old cobblestone road next to the canal on the exact spot where Tsar Alexander II was ambushed and murdered by two terrorists in March of 1881. The church, also referred to as The Church of the Savior on Spilled blood and The Cathedral of the Resurrection, was constructed during the reign of Alexander III. Instead of imitating the Western-style Baroque and Neo-Classical architecture prominent in St. Petersburg at the time, the architect, Alfred Parland, created a church reminiscent of Russia’s Romantic medieval churches such as St. Basil’s Cathedral in Moscow.
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The church is constructed of brown bricks, richly decorated with gold exterior mosaics and topped with gold, blue and green onion domes. The interior, however, is the Church of the Spilled Blood’s true glory. All of the walls and the ceiling, including the interior dome, are covered with elaborate and gorgeously created icons depicting significant Biblical events such as the Resurrection of Christ, the namesake of the church. The icon of Christ Pantocrator in the interior dome is breathtaking, but one is nearly overwhelmed by the glorious beauty of all of the shining icons, reflecting the shimmering light from the gold iconostasis illuminated by elaborate chandeliers.
Across the mosaic floor, opposite the sanctuary, is the memorial shrine, built directly over the old cobblestones where Alexander II was mortally wounded. Shaped in the form of a ciborium, a canopy resembling the golden cup used to hold bread for the liturgy, the shrine reminds the visitor not just of bread, but also of blood, both human and divine. The spiritual solemnity of this place echoes everywhere, from floor to ceiling, wall to wall. And the amount of artistic energy, on the very highest level of which human beings are capable, is a gift to the world for all of time. Although The Church of the Spilled Blood was mistreated during the soviet era, it is truly a miracle that it was not destroyed and has survived for anyone who loves beauty to behold.
 | The strong autumn wind Blows through the old linden trees; A jackdaw takes flight. |
It is time for us to say goodbye to St. Petersburg, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. I plan to share two more blogs with you in the upcoming months as we continue our journey along the waterways. Next month we will Relish Russia in several small and charming cities along the rivers, and the following month we will explore Moscow herself. Until we meet again, enjoy your Borscht and your Blini.
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