My gastronomic “rakes”, because I once again joked about the taste of life

Hello, my love! Well, do you recognize this picture? Yesterday I was sitting on the veranda of a new fashionable store in the center of Kiev, marveling at the menu the size of Gogol’s “Viy” and thinking: “Tom, well, you’re a grown up girl, and you won’t have the same situation as your neighbor))). It’s time to finish the trend!”

I longed for something so ... spruce, noble, so that the soul began to tremble, and then fell asleep.

I’m ordering “author’s pate from wild boar with dogwood marmalade and crust of Borodinsky bread.” Sounds like Lina Kostenko's verse, doesn't it? I can imagine the Countess at least on her way out.

Bring. The look is just the lining of Vogue Food: a thinned green stripe, speckles of balsamic, a small piece of pate, a whole lot of futurism. I take the knife with noble trepidation, I cut this micro-piece...

And here I understand two speeches:

The wild boar is so forest-like that it still keeps getting in my mouth with its wild wiry.

This dogwood marmalade is so sour that I huddled over so hard that I could drink lemon from the salle right in front of the waiters.

I’m sitting here, devouring this “delicacy”, marveling at my little mouthful of money and thinking: Did I give our local salmon pancakes or the ultimate Kiev croissant a good day?