Mastering the Art of Soviet Cooking: A Memoir of Food and Longing

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I owe this book to Scott Moyers, who conceived it long before I did, gave it a name, found the dream editor for it as my agent, and continued to guide me even after his job profile changed. Comrade, my first salut is to you.

Since Scott left, Andrew Wylie has been a tower of inspiration, encouragement, and wise counsel every step along the way. Also at the Wylie Agency deep thanks to Jin Auh, and to Tracy Bohan for taking the book on its global adventure.

At Crown a boundless Slavic spasibo to editor-extraordinaire Rachel Klayman—for her passion, intelligence, rigor, and her deep, transforming empathy for the Soviet experience and this author’s journey. Enormous gratitude to Maya Mavjee and Molly Stern for their publishing brilliance; Elina Nudelman and Elena Giavaldi for the beautiful visuals; Rachel Rokicki, Carisa Hays, Annsley Rosner, Anna Mintz, and Jay Sones for their incisive publicity and marketing efforts; and Ada Yonenaka and Emma Berry for making everything run so smoothly.

Even while taking a book leave from journalism, I was still lucky to bask in the generosity and friendship of my extraordinary magazine family. At Travel+Leisure my deepest appreciations to our genius editor in chief, Nancy Novogrod, and the beautiful talented Nilou Motamed. At Food & Wine love and cheers to the always-inspiring Dana Cowin and the awesome Kate Krader. An article about my mother’s dinners for Saveur was one of the sparks that inspired the book. For this, and more besides, I thank James Oseland and the Saveur editorial team.

Suzanne Rafer and the late Peter Workman of Workman Publishing will always have a special place in my heart for launching me into the food writing world.

In Moscow I’m dearly indebted to Viktor Belyaev, ex-Kremlin chef and ur-raconteur; to Daria Hubova for putting me and Mom on TV; and to Irina Glushchenko and her indispensable book for educating me about Anastas Mikoyan.

My Russian clan has been a source of nurture and a joy: Dad, Sergei Bremzen, and his wife, Elena Skulkova; Aunt Yulia; sestrichki Dasha and Masha (and Masha’s husband, Sergei), my brother, Andrei, and Nadyushka Menkova, the beloved von Bremzen family archivist.

On these shores blagodarnost’ to Anna Brodsky (and Clava) for astute reads and precious communal apartment lore; and to Alexander Genis for his erudition and passion—and epicurean feats.

This book is imagined as a meal that spans decades of the Soviet experience. Our real meals wouldn’t mean much without the company of Irina Genis, Andrei and Toma Zagdansky, and Alex and Andrea Bayer. A separate Sovetskoye Shampanskoye toast to Katerina Darrier, Maria Landa-Neimark; Innessa Fialkova; Elena Dovlatova; Isolda Gorodetsky; and Svetlana Kupchik for bringing Soviet past to such vivid life at Mom’s table in Queens; and to Mark Serman for “fables.” Among the non-Russians: huge hugs to Kate Sekules for always encouraging me; Melissa Clark for being an angel; Mark Cohen for sharing his archival access; Peter Canby, Esther Allen, Nathaniel Wice, and Virginia Hatley for reading; Jonas and Ursula Hegewisch for their sparkle and style; and to all other pals in New York, Moscow, and Istanbul who fed me, listened to me, and lifted my spirits.

Larisa Frumkin is the soul and star of this book. Mamulik: you’re my everlasting hero and role model. This book is yours.

Finally every word on these pages owes something to Barry Your-grau, my partner, reader, editor, literary adviser, best friend, and true love. Without him this book would be a sad murky nowhere. Ditto my life.