14. What do Odesites eat?
The short answer is: much the same as other Ukrainians. This includes a variety of dishes such as borscht and solyanka, varenyky with various fillings, cabbage rolls, chicken Kyiv, and meat patties. Buckwheat porridge, макарони по-флотськи (pasta with ground beef), beef Stroganoff, and potato pancakes are also staples, as well as blini, syrniki, and potato salad; along with drinks like kompot, kisel, and kvas, many other foods and beverages that spread throughout the Soviet Union, both enriching and homogenizing the cuisine of the empire’s peoples.
However, there are nuances. One of the first - and somewhat misleading - things that strikes me on arrival in Odesa is the huge selection of fish and seafood in the shops. Even at the discount supermarkets, there are always frozen prawns, mussels, squid, and octopus, and, of course, all kinds of saltwater and freshwater fish, which can be bought by the kilo and processed into a tasty dish to suit your fancy. At first glance, I think, of course, the Black Sea is just around the corner, so it’s obvious that people are happy to eat anything the sea provides. And this is not a false statement. But this is not a peculiarity of Odesa.
In fact, later, when I travel around western Ukraine, I see that the situation is no different, and Ukrainians like fish everywhere, both along the Black Sea coast and in the Carpathians. Yes, of course, in the mountains river and lake fish are still generally loved, but nowadays there are also large fish departments in the supermarkets of Ivano-Frankivsk or Lviv, just like in Odesa, where you can buy everything from oysters to tuna and from sprats to squid. Then again, oysters seem to be more popular in Odesa than inland. But this is a subjective assessment based simply on evaluating restaurant menus and looking at outdoor advertising.
I’ve also seen dried fish in all the Ukrainian grocery stores I’ve entered: these dry, pungent-smelling fish slices are something Ukrainians especially love to chew with a beer, so this product simply cannot be missing from any grocery store, be it by the sea or far inland.
At the same time, of course, Pontic sprat (Clupeonella), тюлькa (tyulka) in Ukrainian, is a fish that is very much a part of Odesa cuisine. There is even a tavern in the center of Odesa called Tyulka, where you can eat this fish in a variety of ways and then sip a cheap beer.
In general terms, tyulka resembles sprat, both in appearance and taste, and is also a member of the herring family. It is usually served salted, but it is also tasty breaded and fried or, why not, as an ingredient in forshmak.
Which leads to the next Odesa-specific dish: forshmak. The Odesa forshmak is somewhat different from the Central European forshmak popularized by Field Marshal Mannerheim. Namely, there is no meat in it. In its simplest form, the Odesa version is a puree made from chopped fish, apple, and onions, which works as a nice bread spread. The taste is obviously lighter and fresher than the Central European forshmak.
Although fish borscht is also known in the Odesa oblast, I have never come across it. Everywhere, both in restaurants and in the simplest eateries, borscht is made of fatty meat, often ribs, served with a nice snow-white Ukrainian salo (lard) and garlic-buttered buns - pampushki.
As far as I understand from the stories I hear, this kind of borscht is also typical of Odesan home cuisine: beetroot, onion, garlic, and carrots are grated or chopped, fried, then added to broth, which may contain meat or be made from stock cubes. Sour or fresh cabbage is added according to taste, as well as potatoes, beans, or quite often eggplant (which Odesites seem to like more than, say, Western Ukrainians, but that’s again my subjective observation, as shown by the sheer popularity of the tasty eggplant spread, which can be bought in shops but which a true Odesite makes at home). The soup is then left to simmer over low heat for a while until the flavors meld nicely.
But yes, there is such a thing as fish borscht, and sometimes it is even made from white sugar beet rather than red. I saw it myself - on TV.
The food that the Odesites themselves consider to be the most characteristic of their city is actually somewhat surprising. On the one hand, it really is everywhere, on every street corner, but on the other hand, I wouldn’t have been able to associate this dish with Odesa’s identity on my own. We are talking, of course, about shawarma, the kiosks of which dot Odesa. There are small nondescript corner stalls, simple windows in the house wall where you can order an aromatic roll dripping with grease and sauce, as well as fast-food chains specializing in shawarma and even cozy shawarma restaurants where the dish is served on a plate. It’s all there.
What they all have in common is that Odesan shawarma is always quite large - truly filling - and affordable. “Expensive” and “shawarma” do not fit in the same sentence. There are, of course, different schools when it comes to defining the contents of a proper (Odesan) shawarma. It has to contain meat, that’s clear - depending on the shop, there is often a choice of pork, beef, chicken, turkey, or a mixture of those. There’s also a place in town that serves shawarma with tyulka, some Georgian places put suluguni cheese and pomegranate seeds in the shawarma, there’s no shortage of all kinds of experiments like “salmon and five cheeses” shawarmas and whatnot. But the usual shawarma comes with some kind of meat or poultry, plus salad and sauce, and all this is either rolled up in lavash or put in a pita.
The content and flavor of the salad and the dressing (whether spicier or milder, garlicky, sour, or salty) will vary, but they will all fall within familiar and expected boundaries. The salad typically contains either white or red onions, napa cabbage, tomatoes and/or bell peppers, and cucumber. The dressing tends to be a mixture of sour cream, mayonnaise, garlic, sugar, and oil, to which soy sauce, herbs, black or red pepper, and whatever else the cook comes up with within or, regrettably, beyond the limits of his or her competence may be added.
The central element, however, which Odesites consider essential, is the potato - a true Odesan shawarma always contains potatoes. More precisely: French fries. French fries that have been turned into a soggy, soft mass by the moisture of the sauce and salad. Can’t do without it. Why? Don’t ask me, but a proper Odesan shawarma just must contain potatoes and fill the belly so completely that it quells all appetite for days. That is, of course, until the next shawarma.
In this sense, shawarma is not necessarily a dish people eat for taste. Yes, of course - there is good shawarma and there is bad shawarma. But in general, good shawarma is simply the stuff that fills your belly to the extreme, and bad shawarma is simply too small. So: it’s impossible to get bad shawarma in Odesa.
The history of shawarma in Odesa is not known to be very long. According to some sources, even McDonald’s has been operating in the city for longer - the first McDonald’s restaurant opened in Odesa on 25 October 1998 - than there has been what is now considered to be a mainstream shawarma culture. In any case, it is clear that this much-loved dish was brought to the city by immigrants from the Middle East, and probably only in the early years of the 21st century. Although it is likely that at least one shawarma place existed somewhere here before.
It is impossible to say, however, why shawarma has become such a universally loved dish. Perhaps it is the long shadow of history itself, reminding us that Odesa is, after all, an old Turkish town called Khadjibey (incidentally, there also is a popular chain of Crimean Tatar restaurants of the same name in Odesa). Or perhaps it’s just the rhythm of big city life that pushes the Odesites out of their otherwise slow pace into the arms of fast food. Or perhaps it’s the ingenuity of shawarma: for relatively little money, you can get everything from meat to salad and from potatoes to bread in one.
Although universally beloved, the burgeoning shawarma culture is not the only option when it comes to popular and ubiquitous dishes. There is another imported dish that Odesites also enjoy, and which also has a short history in the city, even shorter than that of shawarma. This dish is khinkali.
There are plenty of Georgian eateries in the city, with the “Хинкальная” chain, which operates eight restaurants in Odesa alone, being probably the most popular. However, perhaps even more appealing is the non-chain “Givi To Me” on Rishelievska, a stone’s throw from the opera.
As locals tell me, it was during Mikheil Saakashvili’s tenure as Odesa oblast governor in 2015-2016 that Georgian restaurants started to pop up like mushrooms after the rain. Previously, Georgian cuisine was available, but it was a specific alternative. It wasn’t unknown, but it wasn’t as widespread as it is nowadays, when people go out to eat khinkali, order it for home delivery, or buy it frozen in shops.
Speaking of interesting culinary alternatives, perhaps the most unexpected discovery that is “Маленька Литва” or “Little Lithuania”. The kiosk on Starportofrankivska doesn’t quite have the restaurant feel, but the cuisine is undeniably authentic - the cepelinai filled with mushrooms are pleasantly delicate in texture, the potato-stuffed sausages ooze golden fat and are lovingly aromatic. If Lithuanian music played in the background instead of Ukrainian pop, the experience would be perfect. In any case, in its quirkiness, this place fits Odesa and also helps to describe what Odesan cuisine is today and has probably always been - international.
Of course, it is clear that the war is putting its stamp on all this. People are more price-sensitive than ever, and it is one thing to go out to eat, another to eat at home. In the home kitchen, the more traditional roads are clearly on the forefront, as I sometimes see in the office, where some colleagues take a boxed lunch with them - often it’s buckwheat porridge with mushrooms or meat, or vareniki, sometimes it’s pancakes with some kind of filling, cabbage rolls, or potato pancakes. Good, hearty, and affordable food, the aroma of which lingers in the office for a long time and makes everyone’s mouth water.
Often, it also makes me go to the grocery right after the end of the workday to buy vareniki. They sell them frozen. There are all sorts of fillings to choose from, and although it may sound boring, potato-stuffed vareniki are fantastic. But the potato and mushroom stuffed ones are the best. I also tried the cherry-stuffed vareniki once, as they seem particularly Ukrainian, but the impression is strange, as usual when unexpected flavors are put together. So from now on, I’ll stick to potato and mushroom stuffing. They taste divine with sour cream.
However, there are nuances. One of the first - and somewhat misleading - things that strikes me on arrival in Odesa is the huge selection of fish and seafood in the shops. Even at the discount supermarkets, there are always frozen prawns, mussels, squid, and octopus, and, of course, all kinds of saltwater and freshwater fish, which can be bought by the kilo and processed into a tasty dish to suit your fancy. At first glance, I think, of course, the Black Sea is just around the corner, so it’s obvious that people are happy to eat anything the sea provides. And this is not a false statement. But this is not a peculiarity of Odesa.
In fact, later, when I travel around western Ukraine, I see that the situation is no different, and Ukrainians like fish everywhere, both along the Black Sea coast and in the Carpathians. Yes, of course, in the mountains river and lake fish are still generally loved, but nowadays there are also large fish departments in the supermarkets of Ivano-Frankivsk or Lviv, just like in Odesa, where you can buy everything from oysters to tuna and from sprats to squid. Then again, oysters seem to be more popular in Odesa than inland. But this is a subjective assessment based simply on evaluating restaurant menus and looking at outdoor advertising.
I’ve also seen dried fish in all the Ukrainian grocery stores I’ve entered: these dry, pungent-smelling fish slices are something Ukrainians especially love to chew with a beer, so this product simply cannot be missing from any grocery store, be it by the sea or far inland.
At the same time, of course, Pontic sprat (Clupeonella), тюлькa (tyulka) in Ukrainian, is a fish that is very much a part of Odesa cuisine. There is even a tavern in the center of Odesa called Tyulka, where you can eat this fish in a variety of ways and then sip a cheap beer.
In general terms, tyulka resembles sprat, both in appearance and taste, and is also a member of the herring family. It is usually served salted, but it is also tasty breaded and fried or, why not, as an ingredient in forshmak.
Which leads to the next Odesa-specific dish: forshmak. The Odesa forshmak is somewhat different from the Central European forshmak popularized by Field Marshal Mannerheim. Namely, there is no meat in it. In its simplest form, the Odesa version is a puree made from chopped fish, apple, and onions, which works as a nice bread spread. The taste is obviously lighter and fresher than the Central European forshmak.
Although fish borscht is also known in the Odesa oblast, I have never come across it. Everywhere, both in restaurants and in the simplest eateries, borscht is made of fatty meat, often ribs, served with a nice snow-white Ukrainian salo (lard) and garlic-buttered buns - pampushki.
As far as I understand from the stories I hear, this kind of borscht is also typical of Odesan home cuisine: beetroot, onion, garlic, and carrots are grated or chopped, fried, then added to broth, which may contain meat or be made from stock cubes. Sour or fresh cabbage is added according to taste, as well as potatoes, beans, or quite often eggplant (which Odesites seem to like more than, say, Western Ukrainians, but that’s again my subjective observation, as shown by the sheer popularity of the tasty eggplant spread, which can be bought in shops but which a true Odesite makes at home). The soup is then left to simmer over low heat for a while until the flavors meld nicely.
But yes, there is such a thing as fish borscht, and sometimes it is even made from white sugar beet rather than red. I saw it myself - on TV.
The food that the Odesites themselves consider to be the most characteristic of their city is actually somewhat surprising. On the one hand, it really is everywhere, on every street corner, but on the other hand, I wouldn’t have been able to associate this dish with Odesa’s identity on my own. We are talking, of course, about shawarma, the kiosks of which dot Odesa. There are small nondescript corner stalls, simple windows in the house wall where you can order an aromatic roll dripping with grease and sauce, as well as fast-food chains specializing in shawarma and even cozy shawarma restaurants where the dish is served on a plate. It’s all there.
What they all have in common is that Odesan shawarma is always quite large - truly filling - and affordable. “Expensive” and “shawarma” do not fit in the same sentence. There are, of course, different schools when it comes to defining the contents of a proper (Odesan) shawarma. It has to contain meat, that’s clear - depending on the shop, there is often a choice of pork, beef, chicken, turkey, or a mixture of those. There’s also a place in town that serves shawarma with tyulka, some Georgian places put suluguni cheese and pomegranate seeds in the shawarma, there’s no shortage of all kinds of experiments like “salmon and five cheeses” shawarmas and whatnot. But the usual shawarma comes with some kind of meat or poultry, plus salad and sauce, and all this is either rolled up in lavash or put in a pita.
The content and flavor of the salad and the dressing (whether spicier or milder, garlicky, sour, or salty) will vary, but they will all fall within familiar and expected boundaries. The salad typically contains either white or red onions, napa cabbage, tomatoes and/or bell peppers, and cucumber. The dressing tends to be a mixture of sour cream, mayonnaise, garlic, sugar, and oil, to which soy sauce, herbs, black or red pepper, and whatever else the cook comes up with within or, regrettably, beyond the limits of his or her competence may be added.
The central element, however, which Odesites consider essential, is the potato - a true Odesan shawarma always contains potatoes. More precisely: French fries. French fries that have been turned into a soggy, soft mass by the moisture of the sauce and salad. Can’t do without it. Why? Don’t ask me, but a proper Odesan shawarma just must contain potatoes and fill the belly so completely that it quells all appetite for days. That is, of course, until the next shawarma.
In this sense, shawarma is not necessarily a dish people eat for taste. Yes, of course - there is good shawarma and there is bad shawarma. But in general, good shawarma is simply the stuff that fills your belly to the extreme, and bad shawarma is simply too small. So: it’s impossible to get bad shawarma in Odesa.
The history of shawarma in Odesa is not known to be very long. According to some sources, even McDonald’s has been operating in the city for longer - the first McDonald’s restaurant opened in Odesa on 25 October 1998 - than there has been what is now considered to be a mainstream shawarma culture. In any case, it is clear that this much-loved dish was brought to the city by immigrants from the Middle East, and probably only in the early years of the 21st century. Although it is likely that at least one shawarma place existed somewhere here before.
It is impossible to say, however, why shawarma has become such a universally loved dish. Perhaps it is the long shadow of history itself, reminding us that Odesa is, after all, an old Turkish town called Khadjibey (incidentally, there also is a popular chain of Crimean Tatar restaurants of the same name in Odesa). Or perhaps it’s just the rhythm of big city life that pushes the Odesites out of their otherwise slow pace into the arms of fast food. Or perhaps it’s the ingenuity of shawarma: for relatively little money, you can get everything from meat to salad and from potatoes to bread in one.
Although universally beloved, the burgeoning shawarma culture is not the only option when it comes to popular and ubiquitous dishes. There is another imported dish that Odesites also enjoy, and which also has a short history in the city, even shorter than that of shawarma. This dish is khinkali.
There are plenty of Georgian eateries in the city, with the “Хинкальная” chain, which operates eight restaurants in Odesa alone, being probably the most popular. However, perhaps even more appealing is the non-chain “Givi To Me” on Rishelievska, a stone’s throw from the opera.
As locals tell me, it was during Mikheil Saakashvili’s tenure as Odesa oblast governor in 2015-2016 that Georgian restaurants started to pop up like mushrooms after the rain. Previously, Georgian cuisine was available, but it was a specific alternative. It wasn’t unknown, but it wasn’t as widespread as it is nowadays, when people go out to eat khinkali, order it for home delivery, or buy it frozen in shops.
Speaking of interesting culinary alternatives, perhaps the most unexpected discovery that is “Маленька Литва” or “Little Lithuania”. The kiosk on Starportofrankivska doesn’t quite have the restaurant feel, but the cuisine is undeniably authentic - the cepelinai filled with mushrooms are pleasantly delicate in texture, the potato-stuffed sausages ooze golden fat and are lovingly aromatic. If Lithuanian music played in the background instead of Ukrainian pop, the experience would be perfect. In any case, in its quirkiness, this place fits Odesa and also helps to describe what Odesan cuisine is today and has probably always been - international.
Of course, it is clear that the war is putting its stamp on all this. People are more price-sensitive than ever, and it is one thing to go out to eat, another to eat at home. In the home kitchen, the more traditional roads are clearly on the forefront, as I sometimes see in the office, where some colleagues take a boxed lunch with them - often it’s buckwheat porridge with mushrooms or meat, or vareniki, sometimes it’s pancakes with some kind of filling, cabbage rolls, or potato pancakes. Good, hearty, and affordable food, the aroma of which lingers in the office for a long time and makes everyone’s mouth water.
Often, it also makes me go to the grocery right after the end of the workday to buy vareniki. They sell them frozen. There are all sorts of fillings to choose from, and although it may sound boring, potato-stuffed vareniki are fantastic. But the potato and mushroom stuffed ones are the best. I also tried the cherry-stuffed vareniki once, as they seem particularly Ukrainian, but the impression is strange, as usual when unexpected flavors are put together. So from now on, I’ll stick to potato and mushroom stuffing. They taste divine with sour cream.
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