Kazan — summer 2012

Inside the Ring Mall is a restaurant that wasn't here last year. It's called ‘Das Kolbas,’ which is fake German for ‘The Sausage.’ I say fake because the Russian word for sausage is kolbasá, so they have Germanified it to Das Kolbas. I'm pretty amused. It's like the ‘no problemo’ pseudospanish line from Terminator 2.

That said, now that I'm convinced that the whole vegetarian mindset is complete malarky, I'm delighted to eat meat in as many forms as I can find it. So the other day I went here and asked the buxom clerkess which was her favorite. She pointed out this sausage.

It's a sausage made of chicken, pork and cheese. The cheese inside is hot, so when you bite it, it spurts a glorious cheesy mass onto your tongue, and you are immediately transported to sausage heaven.

I ordered a side of mushrooms. I would never have done that in the States. I mean, why the hell would you deliberately put some vile fungus into your mouth? The idea is freakish and obscene. But of course in Russia it is merely normal, so I ordered them. Entirely adequate. I'm afraid I just will never have the Russian passion for mushrooms.

Except maybe in the case of mushrooms Julienne, about which I probably should write soon.