I always thought of Pelmeni as a peasant food; glutinous parcels of meat that sustained the body but could never delight the senses. But my thoughts on the dumplings were shaken to the very core on a recent trip to Riga and the discovery of ‘Pelmeni XL', a Latvian restaurant chain. Instead of the Sweeny Todd-esque gristle so often found within the Russofied ravioli, each of XL's Pelmeni contained a succulent morsel of meat. Instead of the usual slimy gunk, pleasantly salty wet dough sealed every one. And don't even get me started on the broth. I knew that, when I returned to Russia, I could not go on living as I had been doing - after Riga's master class, there could be no going back to the stodgy dumplings of the stolovaya or produkty.
In Moscow my mind kept wandering back to that Latvian meal. So I made a few calls and, to my delight, discovered ‘Beriozka,' a newly opened Pelmeni bar at Taganskaya. I went with a heart full of excitement and trepidation - could the dumplings there ever live up to my earlier experience?
They did, but the restaurant has a certain weirdness that I couldn't quite define. The interior is a fusion of modern and traditional styles - bare brick walls and dark wood furniture. Sitting in its long, low-lit dining room, surrounded by indoor birch trees and televisions playing what seemed to be enactments of traditional Russian fairytales somehow filled me with a sense of impending doom - not the laidback country atmosphere the owners were obviously going for. The wait staff, though friendly, appropriately looked liked they'd been raised on a diet of Pelmeni and not much else, which added to the feeling of being in an episode of Tales of the Unexpected. I don't like making personal remarks, so you'll have to go there yourself to know exactly what I mean.
Fortunately the Pelmeni itself makes up for the rather strange atmosphere. Every bit as saltily succulent as my Riga revelation, here the dumplings come in a whole variety of flavors, from the normal beef and pork to the more adventurous ‘spicy', via the downright odd ‘sushi Pelmeni' (rice and salmon). Every item can be requested either boiled or fried, though I recommend boiled, both for its warming broth and the fact that the fried option requires quite considerable amounts of Smetana to combat the dryness of the dough. At 140 rubles a bowl, nothing need stand in the way of you and all the Pelmeni you could desire.
The rest of the menu contains a list of house sausages, beer snacks, main meat dishes and desserts. Beriozka seems like more somewhere to go for just beer and Pelmeni though - the house kolbasa was adequate but nothing special and many items from the menu were not available on our visit.
As well as a long menu of imported and Russian beers, several tables also have their own beer taps and a petrol pump-style meter to record the amount diners are pouring for themselves. The house light beer was good, and the dark tastes similar to kvas (if the taste of flat coke mixed with Marmite is your sort of thing). Our abysmal pouring skills were there for all to see as we sat waiting for our self-poured glasses of froth to turn into something more drinkable, though the novelty was just enough to make it worth it.
So I found somewhere to support my new conversion to Pelmeni-ism, even if it isn't the sort of place I could imagine visiting every week. If you haven't yet found the love for the Russian dumpling, I suggest you give Beriozka's version a try.
schyot, please!
Bowl of boiled or fried Pelmeni - 140 rub.
Turkey Kolbasa - 290 rub.
Dark house beer 0.5 - 125 rub.
Light house beer 0.5 - 95 rub.
Vobla beer snack - 100 rub.
Chocolate soufflé - 180 rub.
By Theodore Merz
