In March of 1993 I went to visit my friends David Fisher and Jennifer Cahn in St. Petersburg, Russia. David's an old buddy from back home in New Orleans, and Jen's his wife; they're both Russian scholars, hence their three-year-plus stay in the city of Peter the Great. I have other tales to tell of my stay there, but this one involves one memorable lunch.For the first week of the trip, just about all of the food we had while eating out was absolutely abysmal. Unless you go to a very expensive restaurant, like one of the ones in the grand hotels, eating out at that time tended to be mostly leftovers from the Soviet era, where restaurants had names like "Cafe #187", and the food was bizarre and tasted pretty bad. I don't even remember some of the meals we had there in the beginning, because my psyche has apparently repressed them. At first, the only decent meals we had were the ones we prepared ourselves at home. (I had brought along a huge suitcase full of American foodstuffs, to David and Jen's delight.)
In the middle of my stay there, David and I had planned to take the midnight train to Moscow, and to hang out there for a few days. The thought of my previous days' meals, plus what I'd heard about some recent developments in Moscow, began spinning around in my head, and I gathered the courage to ask David a question. Not believing what I was hearing myself say, I asked, "Hey ... um ... I know you'll probably roll your eyeballs, but ... when we go to Moscow ... um, can we go to the McDonald's?"
David guffawed. "Oh, absolutely!" he said. "I was going to suggest that, but I thought you were gonna roll your eyeballs!" No, I'm not really a food snob, I just play one in real life.
According to what I'd heard, the new McDonald's they had built in Moscow was (at the time, at least) the largest in the world. I had heard that people would wait in line for hours and hours to get in and eat American fast-food swill. I can imagine the novelty of such a thing might be worth waiting for to the average Muscovite, but it does kinda negate the idea of "fast" food. After what I'd been through, though, I was game to try, if the line wasn't too long. Fortunately, when we got there, there was hardly a line at all, but there was ample evidence of their being prepared for huge crowds. In front of the entrance was a system of ropes and poles to heard people through snaking lines like you see at Disneyland, lacking only a sign that says "Three hours' wait past this point." We only had to wait about ten minutes to get up to the counter.
According to David, the first thing that made the experience completely un-Russian was that the young girl behind the counter smiled, and said (in Russian, of course), "Hello, may I help you?" I can testify that in Russian retail establishments, this never happens. You're lucky if you can get someone to wait on you at all, and the order of the day seems to be "service with a snarl." Not at Mickski D's, though.
The menu was a little different that what you'd be used to in a Stateside McDonald's -- no Quarter Pounders (and no Royales with Cheese, either), for instance. They had hamburgers (called "gamburgers", 'cause there's no letter "H" in Russian), cheeseburgers, double ("dvoinoi") hamburgers and cheeseburgers, Big Macs, and that's it. Small fries only, small drinks only with no ice, and over there the triple-thick shakes are called "milk cocktails".
I ordered a dvoinoi chizburger, a Beeg Mak, two small fries, a Pepsi, and a chocolate milk cocktail. I was hungry.
My first surprise is that the bill came to about 5500 rubles. At the time, the exchange rate was about 700 rubles to the dollar, for a total of about $7.85. This was about right for a typical Western McD's, but a meal of this cost was really expensive for Russians. And the place was packed with ordinary Russians, as opposed to tourists or the Russian Mafia, who tend to have more disposable income. The meal tasted exactly the same as it would have in the States. The only difference is that they use Russian-grown potatoes for the fries, and consequently they were shorter; Russian potatoes tend to be pretty small. It was wonderful. And I don't even really like McDonald's food.
We finally did manage to have some great meals in Russia. The fanciest by far was at the Europa Hotel in St. Petersburg, where we ate in a five-star restaurant, classic Russian-style table service from tuxedoed waiters, caviar, baked mushrooms in sour cream, borscht, Chicken Kiev, and blini with chocolate and walnuts. That, wine and a huge tip came out to about $15.00 per person. We also had some absolutely fabulous Georgian food at a place called Guria Café in Moscow. After waiting for almost an hour, seeing several people who were behind us get seated ahead of us, then finally bribing them and being seated at the worst little table near the kitchen, we were treated to an absolutely delicious, six-course extravaganza that stuffed us to the gills and came out to about $4 per person.
The place was packed with Georgians, who, being privileged, got to sit at the neato booths draped with traditional tapestries, and who got stinking drunk and sang Georgian folk songs the whole time. I got a bit of a chill as I recognized one as having been Stalin's favorite (as portrayed in two different movies).
I have no idea what the current restaurant scene is like in Moscow and St. Petersburg; presumably it's improved somewhat in the last six years. But when you're in a pinch in Mother Russia, there's always the Europa, Guria ... and if you're really desperate, the Golden Arches.
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Chuck Taggart (e-mail chuck)