So, to be serious just for the briefest of moments, and in doing so ignore his further recommendation that we cut down to nothing but "the Word of the Lord" (bibles are high in stodge but there's not a lot of substance there), what do we need other than food to live?
Well done Timmy. Drink. Have a biscuit.
Drink is, of course, a highly treasured part of every cuisine world-wide. Go anywhere you like and you will find traditional beverages of which nations are fiercely proud, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic: in Japan, the sweet, rice-based drink 'Saké' has been used to mark special occasions ranging from business meetings to weddings since the year 712; Mexico gave the world 'Tequila', a drink uncultured students took, added some salt and lime and turned into a drinking game, but is in fact drunk by connoisseurs with orange and cinnamon and comes from the juices of the agave cactus; and 'Maté', a non-alcoholic but nevertheless potent drink brewed from the yerba maté herb, is drunk by groups of friends from a common gourd through a metal straw in various nations of South America. In fact, you only have to travel around the UK to see how important drink is in forming an identity; anywhere you go you'll find pubs selling local ales by the barrel, with such exotic names as 'Fiddler's Elbow', 'Moose Drool' and (my personal favourite tipple) 'Snecklifter'.
Russia is, of course, famous for one beverage and one beverage only. And that is Vodka ('Водка').
Ahhh vodka! It is a word that brings a knowing, gleeful and yet slightly ashamed smile to the face of every student in the land. It greases the cogs of conversation, washes away our inhibitions and, more often than not, leaves us with a hangover the following morning that feels as if our head is being repeatedly beaten by a two year old with a Thomas the Tank Engine toy. It has the remarkable property of being near tasteless when mixed with some other beverage, yet ten times as potent as your average beer, causing you to wonder why on earth you're bothering to drink this expensive water whilst sitting in a skip, wearing nothing but a traffic cone for a crown and a broken shower head for a sceptre, singing 'Sing a song of sixpence' at the top of your lungs. It's also one of the most famous things about Russia. Take a random member of the British public, ask him to say the first thing to come to mind when talking about Russia and, if it's not "bears on unicycles" (thanks for that 'Family Guy'), it'll most likely be vodka. The question is, do the Russians deserve this stereotype?
Yes and no is probably the best answer.
Certainly vodka plays a major part in Russian culture. Walk into any reasonable sized shop or supermarket and there'll be a wall of vodkas that is easily bigger than the wine selection, ranging in price from a matter of pence (although drinking that might cost you your pancreas and your nearest and dearest) to upwards of £20. On the whole, it's not expensive to buy a decent bottle. Where, in my first year of university, £5 bought you a bottle of 'Drops', a vodka that had been nowhere near any Slavonic nation, let alone the Motherland, and had to be taken off the shelves due to reports that it was turning some people blind, here the same amount will buy you a very reasonable brand. And the Russians aren't afraid to drink it in large quantities; the standard shot glass in Russia dwarfs those we're used to in the UK, and, since it would be an abysmal crime to us a mixer, the only option is to pour it straight down and prepare yourself for a re-fill.
Yet I do not think that vodka can truly be considered the national drink of Russia, beyond the fact that it is one of its most famous exports after oil and nuclear missiles. For one thing, one half of the population doesn't drink it; where, amongst British students, vodka is often more often associated with girls, here it is a drink almost exclusively drunk by men. In a nation where there is a stronger traditional view of femininity, it is seen as unladylike, meaning that, often, women will not even be offered a glass. And there is also the fact that, in all honesty, Russians do not drink vodka as much as their reputation would suggest. The availability of poor-quality vodka at obscenely low prices certainly makes it affordable to those for whom alcohol is a refuge and escape, arguably fuelling Russia's serious problem with alcoholism, but go out to the bars and cafés and you will seldom see trails of shot glasses left from a heavy night's consumption unless a group of bawdy British students has been in. Russians simply (and understandably I feel) prefer drinks that are more pleasant to enjoy and less likely to make you feel very ill the next morning.
So, if not vodka, then what? There are a whole host of beverages, both alcoholic and soft, that all arguably vie for the privileged position as Russia's national drink. Beer ('Пиво') is probably the most popular drink amongst men when out at a bar and, as with many things that are gloriously bad for you in Russia, is similarly cheap. Those available tend to be produced in Russia (imported brands are expensive) and are generally lagers that are far more palatable than the mass produced, overly carbonated varieties so popular in the UK. Most venues will have their own variety of beer which is often the tastiest and the cheapest, making for a surprise at every venue. Beer also does not suffer the same gender stereotypes as vodka, and women can be seen drinking from half glasses (a full 0,5 l is still considered too much for their delicate constitutions) and often, bizarrely, through a straw. Wine ('Вино') is also becoming increasingly popular, and, whilst the preference tends to be for imported foreign varieties, there are various very pleasant wines produced within Russia itself or by its neighbours to the South. How the Ukranians get away with calling their fizzy white wines Champagne ('Шампанское') but, at a fraction of the cost, it certainly isn't bad.
Russia can also boast a variety of interesting and unique soft drinks for those not seeking intoxication. Kvass ('Квас') is a popular drink, which you are told is made from bread (conjuring up images of old crusts floating in a demijohn), but is in fact produced by fermenting a simple dough, diluting the substance produced with water and adding different fruits and berries and spices such as ginger or mint to give each brew a unique and interesting flavour. Mors ('Морс') is drink somewhat similar to cordial where berry juices are diluted with sweetened water, and is again very tasty and very popular.
Yet none of these quite rival one drink in terms of popularity. And Russia's most widely consumed and popular drink might come as a bit of a surprise. Tea.
If you think the Brits are good when it comes to tea ('Чай'), the Russians certainly give us stiff competition. If you go round to visit someone's house, a cup of tea usually ends up in your hand whether you like it or not. Out in the cafés, it makes the often more expensive coffee green with envy as it flies of the shelves and into the cups of happy customers. And, whilst the Russians use teabags just as readily as we do, there is certainly more time here for the finer arts of tea connoisseurship, and a dainty tea set, fashioned out of delicate china or beautiful glass, is a must-have for any self-respecting Russian home.
Traditionally, tea is prepared in Russia in a two step process. First of all, tea leaves are added to a tea pot, topped up with just enough boiling water to produce a tea concentrate and then is left to brew. Once the tea is ready, a small amount of tea is poured into the cup, it is then topped up with fresh boiling water from a Samovar ('Самовар') (a sort of urn that keeps the water at a constantly boiling temperature, and not a musical instrument as I once foolishly stipulated in an attempt to hide my ignorance) to the required strength. Russians do drink their tea differently to ourselves; the key difference is that tea is usually taken black, usually with sugar and often with lemon, and that milk is usually considered a treat rather than the norm.
But, for a tea lover such as my self, it is comforting to know that I won't be gagging for a decent brew at any point during my time here.
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