Last year la us took work on a remote gold hunt in the deaf corner of the valley of the Yan River. There was no prey yet, intelligence was going, so there was a permanent staff of 10-11 men. Hospitality is a distinctive feature of remote closed groups, and a good chef in such places is the key to success. Soon after we met, we were sent to the dining room. Ordinary stove with a stove, a long table, a huge view for those who want, but most importantly - a MISCHIEF! Pasha was of normal height and shape, with a bald cornered head, which, judging by its appearance, was moved by the tank, having previously twisted on it. The first impression, as it turned out later, was almost correct, only it was a bulldozer. I didn’t like to remember that case, so I don’t know the details. He was presented to us as the God of the pot and the pot, and we were presented to him as the lost geologists who were about to move the copts away from hunger (this was not quite true, but we were silent in anticipation). Pasha put on the table of the fresh bread he baked, poured tea and said that now he will only warm up. The bread had such a smell that we didn’t even have time to get the knives – it was broken and eaten lightning. I had never eaten anything cooler before and I can compare it to nothing, I can only say one thing – it was bread from the bakery from Mount Olympus, Zeus could eat all his life only them. But when Pasha came and put on the table a large bowl of flour, we were deceived! I ate plov with the Tajiks and Uzbek, in different places and conditions, but even in their homeland it did not have such a perfect smell and appearance! I will be silent about the taste, because it was better than bread! True, Pasha said that in the flood not a lamb, the meat went to the bear, who terrorized them three days before, but I am sure that Pasha will prepare the same flood without the strain of any mice and carpenters. After we ate, Pasha spoke, seeing us enjoying the results of his undoubted talent. He told that after close contact with the bulldozer he could no longer fully work on gold, but since the life of the caregiver is delayed, he was left to cash. Literally a year later he discovered the talent of Cook from God and the artels began to compete with each other in promises to him of gold mountains, only he worked for them. After working for 9-10 months and having earned, he was tired of a vacation, but spent it very peculiarly - wheeled around the world, studying the cuisines of the peoples of the world, and then refined the recipes on the stomachs of the workers in the next season. He travelled half Europe, was in Mexico and South America, walked somewhere in North Africa, and the last three years traveled through Central Asia. There he mastered either 68 or 78 species of plow (not exactly remembered), and, virtually without repeating, fed the artel with these plows, starting in March. Yes, the farmer had to turn around to get everything ordered by Pasha before the work began, but the effort had to be justified. He told us a long time about the different types of plow, cooking technology and more, but my operating memory filled up after the second recipe, and I just quietly admired the man who found himself. It was very unusual – in such sailboats, where we penetrated everywhere for about a week and almost drowned on it twice, to meet a man against whose background Alien looked like Apollo, but at the same time with a bright spark of talent and a worldview of a planetary scale.
The next day we left in the morning on the route, returned around 2 o'clock at night, and in the morning we have to leave further. When we opened our eyes, we had time for breakfast. For the first time, we saw almost all of the artillery together, except for the two who had not yet returned from the night shift. Pasha put on the table a huge cage, in which there was some kind of Zalakhat plow, pronounced its name on some Turkic dialect and went aside, studying the reaction of the masterpiece eaters for their future memoirs. We looked at this red-golden miracle with admiration, waiting for the chief of the artillery to put his hand first on the rooster. And absolutely unexpectedly for us heard the words of a healthy man, who looked into the cage and said with unbeatable longing:
“Pasha, you’re such a bitch, so when will you make us an ordinary strawberries?” How much can you put on this flower? Give me the grey! Or I’ll move you by the bulldozer again!! to
We are frozen. From the faces of the workers, I realized that they generally support the speaker. Pasha looked closely at the person who allowed himself to say something against his cooking and calmly replied:
- According to the plan, the float will temporarily end in three days, then there will be a break for a strawberries with a bowl. It is not too long, Knee, be patient!
The men cheered, and one of them immediately shouted:
So, let’s start with the number three!
“No, Pasha, get out of the number eight!
Under this future menu trade, we ate a talented plow with an unspoken Turkish name and set out to leave. When I said goodbye to everyone, I quietly asked Pasha:
What is the number 3 and 8?
Paola smiled:
- I have a grandmother from under Ryazan, she knows 17 variants of cooking strawberries, and I found 7 other options. Therefore, they do not want ploves - they will eat various strawberries with strawberries!
Why can’t we alternate floors and grass?
I can, I can change. There are potato dishes, pasta, lentils and many others. Just this dwarf bear dropped part of the barrels with foods into the river and we now have a little rice and an immense amount of ham, and when the next truck will be - it is not yet clear. The menu had to be unified.
We went everywhere further into the mountains, and I long remembered how many dishes I could cook from ham. More than two did not work out - a strawberries with a strawberries and a strawberries without a strawberries. Here are 24! There is something to think about...