Kazan — summer 2012

I was snickering to myself yesterday about how very different attitudes towards food can be. When Danila's brother Sasha came home from work, he sat down to eat manty, which for the moment we'll say are like large hemispherical ravioli. He pulled out of the fridge a small plate with a lot of butter on it. He stuck a teaspoon in the butter, came up with a teaspoon sized chunk, combined it with a third of one of the ravioli, and then wolfed down the mess with gusto. He did this for each one of the manty.

Back in the States people would be gasping in horror. Oh, the obesity! Oh, the heart disease! But Sasha at 30 doesn't have an ounce of fat on him. (We hit the banya together a couple weeks ago, and I can guarantee this is true. He is one of only three people I can say I have beaten me with birch branches while naked...)

Danila and his brother and his sister are all as thin as rails, which I'm sure is very much genetic. But it also has to do with portion sizes; Russian portion sizes are more reasonable than American. And it has to do with walking... they walk a lot more than Americans.

I currently buy the line of thought that says that high cholesterol issues have nothing to do with fat and eveything to do with carbohydrates, so once I return to the States, I'm definitely returning to the mostly meat and fat diet, and no carbs outside of green leafy vegetables.

Manty