Can a person live on Russian food products alone?

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A KP correspondent bet her editor she could go a week without Chinese goods and failed miserably. She soon learned all the wonders of modern-day society are made in China — computers, phones, TVs and clothes. Her penalty was a second assignment. She had to live a week eating only Russian food products. (See the first installment in KP's April 23 issue)

Russian porridge

I thought nothing could stop me after almost surviving an entire week without a computer, phone, TV and my other electronic lifelines. So when my editor told me I'd have to go a week without foreign food products when I lost the bet, I didn't think much of it.

"It's all I eat anyways," I said to myself. Self-suggestion is a powerful tool. And so I started my week optimistically hoping Russian food products were more abundant than Russian electronics. My first task was to see what foreign foods I was eating already.

I opened my fridge and took a look inside. What a sad and cold sight — three old and inedible Russian carrots. My favorite lemon juice turned out to be made in Israel that I used for salad dressing instead of vinegar. And speaking of salads, my tomatoes were from Turkey, onions from Crimea, peppers from Bulgaria, and I had no idea where my cucumbers were from... I ended up giving a whole basket of fruit to the neighbor's kids, as well as my Swiss candy and chocolate. I decided to keep the Martini for myself, though. The broccoli in the freezer was from Poland and the ice was Russian. (But what good was it now that I couldn't drink my Martini!)

Russian foods: lard, salt, bread, milk, eggs, tomatoes, buckwheat, rice, oil and kissel. Our journalist had to give up imported foods like: macaroni, potatoes from Israel, sausage, coffee, tee, spices, Coca Cola, yogurt and pineapple…

"Eating only Russian food products is no big deal!" I thought. "I can make it an entire week." I just needed to keep searching through my cupboards for non-import foods. I was getting hungry. The herbs were half domestic, half foreign. I read the names of the Russian herbs wondering where they had been grown (caraway, cumin, barberry and cinnamon). I found two packs of rice — one from Krasnodar and one from Thailand. I'm not Chinese, but I know it's completely doable to live on just rice. The buckwheat also turned out to be from Krasnodar. My macaroni presented a bit of problem, though. I have a passion for pasta and recently made the move to Italian brands. But it wasn't that big a deal. The stores were stocked full of Russian spaghetti.

It looked like I'd have to put the sushi on hold for a week.

"That's okay," I thought. "There's plenty to eat as it is!"

It was a bit late to go to the store, so I decided to boil some rice and nibble on a cucumber instead... They say eating at night is unhealthy anyway.

Moscow's Turkish suburbs

I woke up craving coffee and almost cried. My boiler was Chinese and my coffee was Brazilian. And I couldn't drink my green tea either. It was imported from China. All I could do was nibble on yesterday's cucumber.

When I finally shook the morning headache, I headed to the store to buy some Russian food products. I live near a bunch of college dorms, so almost all the stores in our area cater to stone-broke students. The microwaveable meals looked very tempting! But they're all made in China. It's a good thing I'm not a student or I would have died from starvation. I walked over to the fruits and vegetables counter and saw "Belaya Dacha" tomatoes — from an agricultural farm near Moscow. I would have thought they were Russian, had I not sold Turkish tomatoes with the same "Belaya Dacha" sticker while on an assignment at a bazaar last year. Next to the Spanish and Israeli cherry tomatoes that cost 120 rubles per kilogram were ordinary local tomatoes that cost 213 rubles for 550 grams!

"These must have been grown on the Red Square!" I said to myself astounded. Turkish vegetables would have been at least 30-50 rubles less expensive. But the difference is a small price to pay for supporting local production, which is what politicians encourage us to do. I wonder which tomatoes they eat?

Then I headed over I to the dairy counter. I was pretty sure that Russia doesn't have any problems with dairy products — especially in the winter. The head of a Belgorod agricultural farm told me when I was on an assignment recently that his company had so much milk they didn't know what to do with it.

When I got to my apartment, I called an agricultural products specialist who told me that Russia indeed has more than its fair share of milk. After we hung up, I decided to call one other expert just to be sure. Meanwhile, I opened my yogurt and cheese.

"Part of Russia's dairy products are made using imported dry milk," he said.

I choked on my yogurt. I had just been told the other day that Russia didn't know what to do with all its milk!

"We certainly do," he said. "The milk's exported."

I lost my appetite as soon as he told me the yogurt's additives were produced abroad.

I ended up giving the yogurt to my neighbor's cat. We sat outside my apartment while I sipped on my "Ostankinsk" milk. I hoped it came from a Russian cow!

At least I had bought some real Russian eggs. Each shell was marked: "Your Favorite Village Egg." It turned out to be a great omelet. I also made it through the day without Coca Cola. I made some kissel instead. It was quite tasty. Suddenly I remembered that a food market was open on Fridays near my workplace where regional traders sell their food products. I rushed over.

One look at the fresh fish revived my faith in mankind.

"Imported? No, of course not! These are from Astrakhan!" said Vasiliy, wiping the fish scales on his apron.

I took his word for it and bought 4 kilograms of carp and esox. They may have caught the fish using foreign bait and nets, but I was to hungry too care. The market also had tons of Russian potatoes. I bought two kilograms. I should note that they were covered in about 200 grams of dirt. You can buy clean Israeli potatoes at the store, but it costs a lot more. The meat, lard and marinated vegetables were all Russian and spectacular. When my guests arrived, I treated them to an omelet with potatoes.

Pricey patriotism?

The next day I headed out to explore the supermarket.

I stopped at the dried fish and seafood section. Squid, shrimp, dried fish... The wrappers read proudly: "Made in Vladivostok, Russia." But nearby I saw an entire shelf with seafood made by foreign producers — all made in China. The difference in price was absurd. The foreign squid cost 31 rubles while the Vladivostok brand sells for 50. That's the price of loving your country! Later I decided to buy some beer to go with the fish. I saw all the familiar names that are advertised day in and day out as Russian products. I decided to call my friend who works at a brewery to get his insight on local beer production.

"I don't want to upset you," he said. "Beer is produced in Russia, but it's powdered. In other words, it's made from concentrate from Europe. It's imported to our factories and mixed with yeast. It's a difficult technology. The beer's not Russian."

Russian flour, imported raisins

I wanted to buy bread and oil to cook the fish. I didn't think that would be a big problem. I found a lot of oil from all over the world, Russia included. But when I looked at the price I nearly fainted. A few months ago, good Russian oil had cost about 67 rubles. But the price had already jumped to 93 rubles. The oil from Ukraine and Hungary was cheaper than the Russian brands. Then I went to buy some bread and chose a "Borodinskiy" loaf from among the French buns — the poster boy of Russian bread.

When I got home I called the Russian Bakers and Confectioners Guild to learn a bit more about Russian bread production. 

"The flour is Russian," said Yury Katsnelson, the guild's president. "So is the sugar and salt. But part of the sugar is made from sugarcane imported from Brazil and Cuba. It is, though, manufactured in Russia. Half the yeast is Russian, and the other half is Turkish or French. Almost all the oil is Russian. The cream and milk are rarely imported. But the raisins are all from Central Asia, Turkey or Iran."

Russia also doesn't have vanilla or coconut shavings. Confectioners buy Russian chocolate made from foreign cocoa beans. Recently they began using Russian fillings (jams, etc.) for their cakes and cookies.

Expensive swine

Toward the end of the week, I got a craving for meat. So I went to the market and approached a female butcher who was chopping ribs.

"Where's the pork from?" I asked.

"Kaluzha," she said. "But we also have meat from Rzyan. It's all fresh."

I didn't argue and ordered some ribs.

"Are those American chickens?" I asked the woman.

"No, of course not," she said smiling. "They're from Belgorod." She weighed me a piece.

I decided to pick up some kielbasa and found tons at the store. All the price tags said: "Made in Russia."

I called my friend at the Pavlovskaya Sloboda meat factory to see what Russian kielbasa was really made from.

"If the kielbasa is made completely from meatstuffs without any supplements (soy), the percent of imported ingredients is around 40," said Aleksey Surov, the factory's safety director. "The herbs and additives are almost all foreign. Peppers and bay leaf also aren't grown in Russia. Local meat is very expensive. The price of Russian pork has jumped 15 percent in the past month, while local beef is one of the most expensive in the world."

"Is it possible to make kielbasa from Russian products alone?" I asked.

"It's possible," he said. "But it will cost at least 30 percent more," he said.

Maybe Russian meat is more expensive because it's better?

I called the National Meat Association to get their opinion.

"Russia doesn't really depend on fresh meat imports," said Sergey Yushin, director of the association's executive committee. "But we're heavily dependent on meatstuffs that are used to make kielbasa and sausages. Russian meatstuffs are poor quality."

I returned home upset and hungry. I started frying myself some chicken (without pineapple because they don't grow in Russia) when my phone rang suddenly. It was my relative from the Kaluzh region. I told her all about the bet I had lost to our editor and how I had gone a week on Russian food products alone.

"Well we only eat Russian food products," Olga said. "Milk, plums, vegetables, chickens... We freeze them in the summer and then eat them in the winter. Just this week I learned how to can corn! And our friend down the road, Vasiliy, makes homemade sausage. The whole village buys it!"

So the truth is told. It's nearly impossible for Russia's city folk to live even a week on Russian food products, but villagers live patriotically — and love it — all year long! In the summer they grow vegetables for the winter, and the only plants we see in the city are the cactus on our balconies.

Conclusion: It looks like it's more than possible to live on Russian food products, even if we're completely hopeless without Chinese technology and clothes.

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