Dad had always been a great cook: he loved guests and loved throwing massive opulent feasts that consisted of many courses—each with its own suitable drink. His stroganina* was divine: every time I visited him, I was anticipating it, and he had never disappointed. I still hear his slightly grumpy (in a jokey way) voice in my mind—Lenka, don’t bother me, wait for a second, we will start soon.

He cooked deer meat; his soups were incredible. His salads were always absolutely delicious, and his crepes (bliny) were the thinnest and a pure marvel.

I cooked borsch and piroshki (fried buns) with meat today: he would’ve liked it. And he adored Georgian wine, and I was happy that we brought several bottles from our trip to Tbilisi in 2022.

We drank Kindzmarauli in his honour. Most likely, he would smile awkwardly and say, “Lenka, stop it.” But today I won’t: it’s for you, Dad.

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* Raw, thinly sliced frozen fish, mostly from Omul and Nelma, white salmon—northern Arctic specialty