Russian doughnuts in the Rainy Morning

There is a city called Saint Petersburg. It is located in Russia, the country of cold, as they say. Its name is a little sharp and has many solid letters. Some can probably say that it matches the city perfectly well because most of year it is rainy, windy and cold. The sky is full of grey clouds and sun is a rare guest, but people forget that sometimes strong gusts of wind can bring a desire to get your heart warm.

The trick is in formula, but it is not arithmetical one. You need people you love next to you, an old bakery located in the heart of the city and some ‘pishki’.

Even though, Saint Petersburg is not my hometown, it has become the city of my soul. One of the first time when I visited the Venice of the North was in my high school with my mum.

Together, we stayed at the small hotel which was hidden in the numerous mazes of the streets. I don’t want to exaggerate but I certainly do know that this city has a soul and it is like a Russian heart: curious, tricky and mysterious, that is why, it enjoys playing with tourists and make them go astray among magnificent cathedrals, speechless and dark river channels, dreaming castles. So, if you want to be a friend of a city, you need an open heart which is ready to welcome its music, beauty and mystics.

That’s that we did, me and my mum. We woke up early, getting our legs and mind ready for a good long walk and some adventures. Sometimes, the weather does not want to help you and assist your journey with a sun, so you just need to get used to the fact that the clouds will cry, and their tears will be all over your clothes. However, simply it doesn’t matter if you are in love with that feeling of exploring something new.

That day, our first day there, we woke up early and decided to have a breakfast on one of the streets. The morning met us with a fog and natural perfume of Saint Petersburg – the aroma of moisture after the rain mixing with a wet granite odor. At 7am in the morning the streets were empty and there was no rush and hustle. Just a pacifying silence. Yet, most of the cafes started to share their smells from cooking with streets and our empty stomachs. After some time, we saw an old red neon sign saying, “Damn fine pishki”. The slogan was enticing which made us cross the laneway. It was an old bakery with huge wide windows and a surprisingly fat calico cat, who stared at us right from the chair, where customers usually dine.

“This place obviously lacks hygiene”. My mum said, but she smiled, and we came inside.

Do you know a felling when some place can literally send you back in time? Yes, that was it. It sent us 50 years ago, back to USSR. All these tables with fake green marble covers, tiny black chairs with round seat pads and off-white colored walls, but the old ladies at the cashier (we call them ‘babushki’) were friendly and, of course, we cat was extremely cute. And a smell of something deep-fried and sugary was twisting our minds. We asked the lady about the menu and she gently said that they sell only tea and pishki. So, we ordered six to be full.

P-I-S-H-K-I. Some flour, a little bit of yeast, salt, sugar, water and margarine. Mix all together, make a dough ball, then make donut-shaped forms, deep-fry in sunflower oil and cover in sugar powder. Simple as that!

We got our ‘breakfast’ after 5 minutes. There was no one else, expect us and a ginger cat. This buddy also enjoyed crunchy, sweet and salty pastry.

The rain has just started to fall all over the city, people started waking up and getting ready to work, the wind from outside was coming through narrow cracks in the door, but it all didn’t matter. This time, the cold passed us by.