Risen! - The Tale of my 1st Ukrainian Orthodox Easter Meal

As stated in a prior post, I don't identify specifically with any one culture or heritage so the family traditions I've inherited have almost solely been the invention of my immediate family.  Little did I know that when I moved to Canada I would meet and marry (soon) the woman of my dreams who just so happens to be a 4th generation Ukrainian Canadian.  She grew up in Eastern Saskatchewan, an area where Ukrainian Orthodox churches are the focal points of farming communities dotted throughout the region, populations of which number in the hundreds of residents.  Having traveled to the area several times now and had the good fortune of meeting her friends and family as well as hearing the stories of her childhood, I can attest to the fact that the Ukrainian culture, now 4 generations removed from its first wave of immigrants, is still vibrant and intact (for some color on the history of Ukrainian immigration to Canada told from the perspective of my mother-in-law-to-be, check out this incredible story told in her blog post).  It is this culture and tradition that inspired one of our greatest cooking adventures to date (along with some other associated adventures as you will see).

I have long held the belief that one of the finest ways to experience a culture is through its food.  Food is such an intimate part of a culture as it is a family's source sustenance, a meal around which to gather, a story of geography and climate and often of socio-economic history.  In the case of many cultures, food is also heavily tied to faith and religious tradition.  While the study or religion, politics, and culture are topics I am keenly interested in and passionate about, I will commit to you dear reader that this blog will not delve into those topics, except where they enhance the story of food or cannot be avoided in its discussion. This tale of my first Ukrainian Orthodox Easter meal is one such story that cannot be told without the juxtaposition of food and religious tradition.

In my limited experience with its cuisine, in Ukraine,  (as with most everything else in this culture) food is an art form.  From pinky-thin cabbage rolls, to beetniks, to the staple at every table - the perogie, nothing in Ukraine is as simple as slapping a steak on the grill.  Everything is rolled, pinched, stuffed, or otherwise intricately manipulated to transform humble ingredients into extraordinarily beautiful and labor intensive creations.  The Easter tradition holds two fabulous examples if this intricate artwork in the paska bread and pysanky Easter eggs. Both are google image searches you won't regret.

Weeks prior to the Easter holiday, which in the Orthodox tradition landed on May 1 this year, my fiancee taught me how to make pysanky (the more flawed example in the picture was my attempt).  I've since learned that in broader orthodox tradition, eggs are dyed red to symbolize the blood of Christ. However, in the true character of this culture, Ukrainians have adapted this tradition to be the incredibly intricate and artistic pysanky that I've grown to appreciate, and more impressive examples of which adorn the walls of our home.  These pysanky eggs became one of many elements of our Easter basket.

The Easter basket, and my fiancee's desire to share with me this most cherished of family and cultural traditions, is what inspired this journey.  In orthodox tradition, the Easter basket blessed by the priest on Easter Sunday, is the symbol of a feast that marks the end of 40 days of lent ( a period of fasting and reflection) and the celebration of Jesus having risen from the dead.  The blessed basket becomes the focal point of the day's meal and family celebration.  As a contribution to this tradition, I wanted to make the paska bread traditionally found in Ukrainian Easter baskets.  With the help of Martha Stewart and Korena in the kitchen, the results of my effort are pictured below.

To build our Easter basket, we surrounded the paska bread with Easter ham, boiled eggs, pysanky, butter with cloves in the pattern of the orthodox cross, ham sausage, horseradish, tomatoes, apples, dry curd cottage cheese, and green onion.  We lined the basket with a cross-stitched table cloth (another fine example intricate Ukrainian art) and added the final touch of a pussy willow branch (Ukraine's cool weather answer to the Palm fronds on Palm Sunday) before we headed out to Easter service.

At 6:00 AM on Easter morning, we arrived to the sound of the chants of the Orthodox service.  As a person whose previous church experience involved rock bands playing praise music with PowerPoint lyrics as the backdrop, the strict tradition, repetition, and flow of this service was foreign to me, though in the most awe inspiring of ways.  The strict adherence to the traditions inspired reflections on how these traditions were formed and maintained through what is now thousands of years.  The constant cadence of the chants (as never a word was "spoken"), the ringing of bells and spreading of incense, and the inclusion, even dominance, of the Ukrainian language in the service made what would seem a foreign experience welcoming.  It was impossible not to recognize the rich tradition that must make this feel like home to so many Ukrainians now living abroad.  I will say however, that by the fourth hour of this service, the awe inspired by the chanting and bells was replaced by visions of the coffee we left untouched on our counter as we rushed out the door and the sound of my grumbling stomach which longed for the food waiting to be blessed in our Easter basket sitting in the other room. Toward the end, even the priest's heart wasn't in it as he edited his obligatory 3 shakes of the bells at each door post to an option of 3 or 2 or maybe just skipping a door post altogether, depending how he felt. It was a great experience, steeped in tradition but I think we'll seek out an edited version of this particular ceremony in future years.

Upon arriving home, now 5 hours after having risen for the Easter celebration, nary a thought of preserving its beauty entered our minds as we hacked up our paska and quickly transformed it into French toast (don't worry traditionalists, we ate our egg first, and it was a welcome appetizer).  I'm positive this is not part of the Ukrainian tradition but I will say, paska may be the perfect bread for French toast.  Having quieted our grumbling stomachs, my fiancee transformed the dried curd cottage cheese into pyrizhky (I still have no idea how to pronounce this), another stuffed, pinched, overly complicated food item of humble ingredients perfected by the people of Ukraine; its flavour giving justice to the work required in its creation.  This one may be my new favourite Ukrainian dish.  They're made of an incredibly light yeasty dough, stuffed with dry cheese curd, dill, and green onion.  When baked, the aromas of dill and onion infuse the air pockets of this light bread.  Eaten undressed straight out of the oven, they add a whole new element to the fresh buns your grandma used to make in your childhood.  Slathered in creamy dill sauce, they're just damn delicious and indulgent.  We paired them with a Roger Sabon Chateauneuf Du Pape (a more perfect pairing than one might imagine as this wine had great herbal notes that complimented the dill), some ham sausage and enjoyed our Easter dinner on a 27C evening on our back porch Calgary (on May 1st!).  As my first experience with Orthodox Easter, it was everything and more than I'd imagined.  A time of celebration, reflection, great food, and ever expanding horizons.

Khrystos Voskres! Risen indeed.