Russian vodka is warm when served cold. It is artful, opportunistic, and deceptive, having absolutely no discernible effect on the central nervous system until it does. Adding mixers to vodka is not done in Russia; the drink is always taken neat. It is also drunk as a shot, never sipped. Each shot must be followed with a snack called zakuski, usually salted fish or meat, pickled vegetables, caviar, or hearty breads. Zakuski between shots allows one to drink more vodka than downing successive shots without it. Sniffing black bread between shots is also said to be surprisingly effective in slowing the onset of intoxication; then, again, I have enough trouble hiding used hors d’oeuvres toothpicks at a party, without the added burden of trying to figure out what to do with a nosed-over piece of rye bread.
V. I. Govorkov’s iconic “Nyet!” poster (1954)
Soviet-Era Temperance Poster: Just Say “No!”
When one person proposes a toast, nobody may refuse to drink. Because “only problem drinkers don’t toast before drinking,” tradition demands every drink be preceded with a toast. Generally, the first toast is devoted to the occasion; the second toast must immediately follow the first, usually honoring the host or friendship; the third toast is typically in honor of women or love. After the third toast anything goes—according to the well-known Cossack expression: “Between the first and second toasts, a bullet should not pass.” Except “Na zdorovya!,” which is not a toast, but rather an old phrase meaning “You’re welcome” and properly used in response to a compliment or words of gratitude. Zdorovya means “health” in Russian, so naturally there are toasts featuring this word, even though Na zdorovya is not one of them. You can say, “na vashe zdorovya” to your health, or “za vashe zdorovya” for your health.
Finally, guests leaving a party must drink Na pososhok, “one for the Road.” So many complicated rules to master. So little time. Not wanting to off end an entire country by disrespecting their centuries-long drinking tradition, I practiced this new ritual until it became second nature. My usual alcohol inclinations tend to be tame and limited to wine with dinner or highballs of Canadian rye and ginger ale at social events. I’m rarely guilty of drinking copiously from the cup of oblivion and it has been years since I’ve been what comedian Ralphie May describes as “more stoned than a biblical whore.”
Excerpt for Not So Innocently Abroad available now (paperback and Kindle) on Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, and selected Independent book sellers in the United States.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/0984720499
