I really did try to find the right kind of restaurant to go to so that I could participate in this month’s Dine and Dish, a new food-blogging event now in its second installment. Dine and Dish is the brainchild 
of the lovely and talented Sarah at The Delicious Life. Sadly I missed the first month’s theme, which was aptly named Barfly. I know just what bar I would have eaten at, too.
This month the theme is Queen of Cuisine, and the task is to dine at and write about a restaurant with a woman chef. I’m a little behind on the NYC restaurant scene to be quite honest, since we don’t eat out with any real frequency. That may be why I just don’t know of a wide number of restaurants in NYC that have women chefs. There are some pricey ones. Then again, when does anyone actually know the chefs’ names, gender or anything else about them except when the restaurants are high-end? I could have done some research and called some of my fave middle-brow places to find out if the kitchens were headed by females, but time was lacking. I do know of Gabrielle Hamilton who owns and heads the kitchen at Prune. And I’ve actually been dying to try it. But it simply wasn’t in the cards this month.
So instead I’ve chosen to write about a place that still exists, but has been scarily reconfigured. I’m going to tell the tale of its former glory. Good, filling, inexpensive food that cannot be duplicated was once served there, on Second Avenue at East 7th Street, at the Kiev. Once upon a time, New Yorkers knew that at any hour of the day or night, you could get buttery potato or cheese pierogi topped with perfect caramel-bronze fried onions and a little dish of sour cream. You could order foot-long cylindrical blintzes: delicate crepes fried to a crisply hot exterior, oozing creamy, vanilla-scented pot cheese from within. There was sour cream with those too, or applesauce. Or both. Or you could have both with crunchy potato pancakes instead. Then again, you might (if you had been so lucky as to go to the old Kiev) have requested one of the combination platters that included two or more of the “Kiev specialties”. If you didn’t want those, you could always have soup – chicken soup or wonderful daily specials, borscht and pea soup and white bean with leeks and dill – each one a meal in itself, especially since the brimming bowl of soup arrived with two thick slices of homemade, eggy, golden challah bread and little cups of butter and jam. Almost all dishes at the Kiev came with that challah – and consider this in light of the fact that most of the dishes I’ve named and will name in this post were under five dollars, and all of them were well under ten. You could buy a huge, triple-humpbacked loaf of that challah to take home with you too, for just a few dollars. I can’t even enumerate all the wonderful things at the old Kiev – the huge dish of nutty buckwheat kasha with meltingly tender beef chunks and mushroom gravy, the best babka I’ve ever eaten, or maybe eggs and kielbasa served with kasha instead of home-fries, if you so desired. If for some reason you or perhaps your companion didn’t want Russian food, you could have anything you might have ordered in any coffee shop in America – a burger, a grilled cheese, an omelette; iced tea or a big thick milkshake. But I went there, at least once a week for several years, for the Eastern European specialties.
They called her Mama. Who even knows what her real name was? Occasionally you could catch a glimpse of her through the window that connected the front counter and cash register with the kitchen. She was a stocky Eastern European lady with rosy cheeks from spending her days over the big stove – and usually she was a blur of motion. “Mama!” the waitresses, blond and dark pony-tailed, sneakered girls from the Ukraine and Georgia and Belarus sang out. “One order potato pierogi boiled, a pierogi-blintz combo and a bowl borscht, quick quick!” “Mama! Where’s my takeout for the front?” Sergei the counterman would cry. All the countermen seemed to be named Sergei. Sometimes they called out the order in Russian, and I couldn’t catch the words – but the cry of “Mama!” was always the same.
Maybe the names were coded. Maybe all the countermen were Sergei; maybe the waitresses had rotating sobriquets of Masha and Natalya and Tanya. There had to have been several cooks, since the restaurant never closed; it seems they were all simply known as “Mama”, perhaps an honorific much like “chef” in other restaurants. I don’t know, and I can’t ask, because (as Pastor Niedermeier would say) there’s no-one left to ask. The old Kiev is no longer. And whither Mama? Until fairly recently, women were "cooks" and men were "chefs"; how many talented women have cooked us all wonderful restaurant meals, unnoticed and unsung?
Slowly the Kiev changed. Many of us didn’t like it when they remodeled, and took out the middle room and the old back room, where you walked up a short flight of stairs to a long narrow space with more tables. But at least the food stayed the same, more or less. Then one day, when I hadn’t been there for many months, I walked in and the counter was gone. In its place was a bar. How strange, I thought. I was comforted, however, by the sight of a man eating a double order of pierogi at a nearby table. Time passed again, and I had long ago stopped visiting the Kiev with any regularity. One night, out late in the East Village, I thought I might stop and get some of my old favorites to take home. I could pick up a loaf of challah for my father, perhaps.
That’s the only thing that remained the same. You can still buy the challah, and I like to think that there is a “Mama” out there somewhere who makes it. The restaurant has a new name. It’s called “Kiev East”. It’s not open 24 hours. The banged up old wooden tables and chairs are gone, and in their place is a dark blue lighting scheme that tries for romantic or mysterious or something that escapes me altogether, and a décor that simply tries too hard. Worst of all, the big old menu is gone. In its place is someone’s fantasy of a Eurotrashed Eastern European/Asian fusion menu. They now have seafood pierogis, and vegetable “potato” pancakes, made with parsnips and red peppers, served with gingered sour cream. They might be very good. I don’t know. But I don’t want them. Nor do I want a “Beijing”catfish sandwich. “Ukraisian Wings”? Nyet.
That last time I went, they had just a few of the old specialties on the menu. For old times’ sake, I ordered my favorite boiled potato pierogi to go. I received an order half the size for twice the price – no sweet browned onions, no sour cream. And they were simply terrible. Mama didn’t make these. Nobody’s mama made these. These came out of a freezer compartment somewhere, filled with barely reconstituted mashed potatoes. As I threw the aluminum plate of sad dumplings in the trash, I could have cried for my own hunger. It was not so much physical, although I was hungry. There was nothing else I could make or eat at that moment, because my hunger was for the pierogi from the old Kiev.
While I was writing this, I looked at the Kiev East's online menu, and at voluntary customer reviews from several online venues. All the reviews have a suspicious similarity of tone. They all seem to be touting the idea that Kiev East is just like or even better than the old Kiev, because now it’s swank and you can take your date there. Arrgh. They do, however, seem to have recently restored a number of the old menu items. There are blintzes (although in noxious flavors just like the pierogi), and there’s kasha. Perhaps, one day when I’m in the neighborhood, I’ll pick up some of that good challah. Maybe I’ll even try an order of blintzes for takeout, on the off chance that someone is actually cooking somewhere in back.
In the meantime, if anyone knows where *Mama* is plying her vast culinary talents, please call, write, or send a telegram. If I can locate her, I’m there.
Julie,
I feel your pain. I've had a couple of favourite restaurants go belly up in the name of modernisation. They've never been the same since!
Even though I haven't been around, I'm still lurking. And your blogs I still love to read.
Caroline
Posted by: Caroline | May 30, 2005 at 02:57 AM
Oh man! {errr...woman?} The descriptions of the food coming from its former glory got me so worked up that now I'll have to look up some recipes. My knowledge of eastern european food is lacking. Must go and remedy this!
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Posted by: rowena | May 30, 2005 at 04:40 AM
Luckily you can still run up the block to Veselka!
Posted by: brian w | May 30, 2005 at 03:42 PM
hi julie! i am so *sad* for you and the fate of kiev...i can't stand it when restaurants go on to ruin food like that. it'd be one thing if they "updating" old classics and they actually sounded good, but why mess with something that's already great, right? (this is also why i often have problems with fusion cooking - LOL!)
Posted by: sarah | May 30, 2005 at 04:27 PM
Hey Caroline -- it's great to see you here again, and to know that you're lurking!
Rowena, Russian cuisine is in my blood, but I've never actually made my own blintzes from scratch. Someday I'll try, but will they be imbued with the same timeless flavor that my memory bestows upon the ones from the Kiev?
Brian, you've got a point. I remember Veselka's borscht and stuffed cabbage with great fondness. It's just that we all had our favorites in the East Village. For me, the specialties I named above at the Kiev were better there than they were at Veselka or the Odessa or Christine's. But maybe my allegiance can be swayed -- especially when there's no other choice.
Sarah, this has happened to so many great New York restaurants. The original menu at the celebrated and costly Russian Tea Room was authentically Russian and was without peer in New York. They did an amazing business, frequented by numbers of writers and artists, producers, directors and actors, as well as humbler folk. Many of them "took meetings" in the red booths there. The sad day a decade or so ago that I walked by and saw "Angel Hair Pasta" on their menu, I knew the end was nigh. They went through a few more changes of hands, new gimmicks and menus, and then it was all over -- another of New York's great food and meeting institutions bit the dust. That reminds me -- one of these days I have to tell the story of my mother and Henry Miller at the Russian Tea Room...
Posted by: Julie | May 30, 2005 at 06:40 PM
Hey Julie,
We've all been there. I used to eat at the Kiev too. The challah was the best. I used to have the mushroom/barley soup and the fried potato pierogi. Many lunches and late night snacks were eaten there. I also went back and was very disappointed.
What about Ratners, with the best onion rolls, chocolate babka and potato pancakes. Or do you remember the Grand Dairy? I have not ever had better blintzes or potato soup with black bread.
Posted by: Ernie | June 03, 2005 at 03:16 AM
Oh my goodness, Ernie, Ratners! The onion rolls alone could make you weep, they were so good. I only went to Grand Dairy one time; they were legendary for all their soups, though. My friend Steve used to rave about them.
Posted by: Julie | June 03, 2005 at 06:55 AM
I don't know why this compulsion exists to remake all the Ukrainian restaurants into silly hipster joints. At least Veselka just expanded and redecorated a bit, but left the menu alone. The new Kiev breaks my heart, but not nearly as much as the cipher that calls itself Leshko's, across the street from the southwest corner of Tompkins Square Park. I used to live on 4th between A and B and I've lost track of how many post-clubhopping breakfasts I've spent at Leshko's. I don't think they changed their menu prices for about 40 years. Now, of course, you can get food too fabulous for the room; you can get food slathered in wasabi, which is delightful if you're going out for Japanese but less lovely if you're going out for Ukrainian. It kills me that never again will I be able to sit in a booth with my bleary-eyed boyfriend, a plate of boiled potato pierogies with onions and sour cream for me, a plate of apple pancakes for him, coffee for both of us.
Lloyd and I used to live up the street from the Kiev, and while we loved it, there were some dishes that were better than others. For me, though, that was the beauty of living in the neighborhood: while you could certainly go one-stop shopping for all of your Ukrainian/Polish yummies, you would never have to. Of course, superlatives are all a matter of opinion, but for now I'll let my opinion rule the day. :) Kiev was where I went when I wanted matzo brei, challah French toast or kasha varnishkas. Veselka was for mushroom-barley soup and Ukrainian meatballs (pork + veal, coated in mushroom gravy, mmmmmm). Stage Diner (which hasn't changed, thankfully!) was for gulyas. Leshko's was for pierogies. Odessa was for pierogies when you wanted the maximum amount of butter, heft and stodge in your pierogies -- when Leshko's, substantial as they were, just wouldn't cut it. (This did not happen often with me.) B&H Dairy was for borscht. The restaurant in the Ukrainian National Home was for boiled beef and pickled beets. Papa Bear -- okay, this one was not in the neighborhood, but it was walkable, on 23rd Street and 2nd Avenue -- was for chicken in the pot, a dreamboat of a soup containing half a chicken, a whole peeled boiled potato, a carrot and a fistful of dill. If you possibly had room at the end of one of these feasts, you could burn at least a portion of it off by hiking to Moishe's, where you could buy a giant perfect raspberry hamantaschen, or a chocolate babka for making your own French toast, or a dozen onion bialies or pletzl for a week's worth of breakfasts. Oh, I'm dying, here, thinking of all this.
The bad news is that I have no idea where Mama is now. The good news is that Molly O'Neill has a recipe for potato and mushroom pierogi in New York Cookbook, and I have made it dozens of times. It's a bit of a fuss, but not a terrible one, and the resultant pierogies are tangy and wonderful.
Posted by: Bakerina | June 03, 2005 at 08:42 PM
Leshko's. Another case in point. Even the too-fabulous "new" Leshko's didn't survive -- they closed a while ago. The sorrow is that whoever decided to reinvent these restaurants never understood what they had going for them in the first place. I guess this post is on some level a requiem for all these neighborhood joints.
I had more of a relationship with the Kiev than the others -- I befriended one of the Sergeis at one point, and my friend Nili and I had breakfast there almost every week for years. I don't really know why their pierogies rang my chimes, but they were the ones I wanted. My love for a particular dish in a particular place clearly has to do with association. Potato pancakes? Well, the Odessa's might not have been the best, but they were my faves because my friend Jane simply had to go there for breakfast when she made her semi-yearly trip down from Bangor.
And now, of course, I need to go to Moishe's and get a sack of rugelach at the first opportunity. They'd better still be there.
I just made kasha varnishkes the other night, with a side of buttery caramel-brown onions. My potato pancakes aren't bad either, and I'm sure if I put my mind to it, I could turn out reasonable blintzes. You bring the pierogies, Jen, and I'll bring the kasha and the rest...
Posted by: Julie | June 03, 2005 at 11:53 PM
Julie, if you can teach me how to make blintzes, and that yummy pot-cheese filling that goes into them, I will be your gibbering love slave for life.
Wow, that shows you how long it's been since I've been in the old hood, at least that far east. Well, I can't say I'm sorry to see Leshko's go. I really try not to have a knee-jerk reaction against any kind of change, I really try to give everything the benefit of the doubt, but I thought the Leshko's redesign -- and Kiev's, too -- was just pointless. No, not just pointless. Craven, too. Someone got the idea that what the East Village needed was more hip places to eat. And yes, sometimes you do want something a little more fancy, which is when you go to the Tasting Room or Prune or Jewel Bako. And sometimes you want an enormous plate of something cheap, delicious, handcrafted and soulful. Trying to make the Ukrainian restaurants hip backfires on two counts: No one whose heart is set on going to Prune will opt for going to the Kiev instead, and the regular Kiev clientele will be pissed off. (Honest to God, "Ukraisian Wings?" What the hell *is* that, anyway?)
I will give Kiev credit for one thing, though: on my last trip there, my friend Sharon got a pierogi sampler that included sweet potato and spinach filling. I tried making my own and home and they were really good. So even though theirs weren't all that hot, they were inspiring. :)
You will be happy to know that Moishe's is still there, and the rugelach, hamantaschen and babka are all still fabulous.
Posted by: Bakerina | June 04, 2005 at 09:11 AM
Phew. Okay, I'm scheduling a trip to Moishe's for sometime in the near future. And I'll have to try to find some reasonable pierogi in the neighborhood as long as I'm going downtown.
Craven is the word, Jen. Perhaps there is justice in the universe, since these pathetic hybrids don't seem to last very long. One can only hope that the owners of the surviving neighborhood Ukrainian/Polish/Eastern European places learn some lesson about leaving well enough alone.
The Blintz Conundrum (I'm sure you've heard of it) has to do with the dearth of actual pot cheese available in these parts. The question remains whether or not farmer cheese will be an adequate substitute. One can only hope, and try. I'm thinking this time of year it would be nice to side some blintzes with a simple rhubarb compote like the one you recently described on your blog...
Posted by: Julie | June 04, 2005 at 08:19 PM
I forgot about Moishe's, yummy chocolate babka for sure.
Is Gertel's (I think that was the name)bakery still around? they had some good stuff too, although that was LES stomping grounds.
Julie, I love pot cheese. Luckily I can find it here in Jack. Hts. Nothing better than egg noodles with pot cheese.
On a separate note, I used to love Juniors rugelach, they were divine. A few months ago I made a pit stop, but alas the rugelach are no longer the same.
Posted by: Ernie | June 05, 2005 at 01:03 AM
So, Ernie...have you got a good blintz recipe for using all that lovely pot cheese?
I had the same experience with Junior's rugelach. I bought some (at no small expense, mind you) at the Junior's outpost in Grand Central Station for a work-related breakfast. Deeply disappointing. But if Moishe's are still the cream-cheese dough wonders that they once were...
Posted by: Julie | June 05, 2005 at 02:14 AM
I want some good rugelach now.
I've only made blintzes once, now we go to a Polish place in Forest Hills for cheese blintzes.
I'm getting lazy!
Posted by: Ernie | June 05, 2005 at 04:13 AM
Speaking on delicious plates etc...I happened upon a restaurant soon to be opened in the East Village called Mo Pikins. They were having a tasting on the day I stopped by so I ventured in to find a wonderful mix of Jewish and Latin food. Everything from a Cuban Reuben, to Mom's Brisket, to potato pancakes and chopped liver. I can't wait til it opens.....they told me soon....That Mo Pitkins House of Satisfaction was a month away.....
Posted by: Bill | June 08, 2005 at 01:07 PM
Does anyone have their blintz receipe...
Nothing stays the same....we die.
I imagine the cooks died.
How sad not many people learn the old ways...where are all the bakers...I remember missing bread having lived in the midwest too long and running into a Brooklyn baker at Joes crab place in miami...havnt had that good brooklyn bread since....
We have good whole food bakers but I miss the old stuff.
Posted by: JoAnn Conrad | July 27, 2006 at 03:54 PM
Living now in Mabou, Nova Scotia, about to make mushroom barley soup with dill picked from the garden and fresh bake a challah.
Late night at The Pyramid and 4 o'clocks or
11's at The Kiev. Who could ever forget the food that fed and artistic nation!!!
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Oh my goodness, Ernie, Ratners! The onion rolls alone could make you weep, they were so good. I only went to Grand Dairy one time; they were legendary for all their soups, though. My friend Steve used to rave about them.
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