Summer

Okroshka, as Russian food in summer should be.

Soups to Russians is like a good Sunday roast to Brits – part of our cultural dna. We wither away without a daily helping of a soup of some kind.  Mothers tell their offspring that without a soup they won’t

Summer

Woosy faces, food gratis and gooseberry dressing.

Until the age of 10 I lived in what many dreamily how recall as the Soviet courtyard. I have most vivid recollections of lazit za kryzhovnikom – sort of climbing into and around gooseberry bushes, lazily picking them up, plonking them into my mouth, chatting to girlfriends.

Summer

Sprats can take it, take it all.

You wake up, what at first seems like a middle of the night, in that grainy, 1930s photograph light. It feels like little, prosecco like bubbles frothing up underneath your skin. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, more a curious sensation,