Ukrainian Homes and Gardens
By Walter Kish
My wife and I bought a house a week ago after several weeks of
looking in the
Needless to say, most of
what I was looking for differed appreciably from the list of “must haves” that
my wife had compiled. Invariably, the
first place she looked was in the kitchen when we toured a potential
candidate. It had to be spacious and
functional - you can never have too much counter or cupboard space according to
her priorities, and considering what proportion of her time was usually spent
in the kitchen, she had a telling point.
To her, the kitchen is the
focal point of the house. This is a
perspective undoubtedly inherited from our Ukrainian parents and
grandparents. For them, it was not only
the room where cooking took place, but where most of the meals were taken and
most of the practical family conversation surrounding daily affairs took
place. I can remember when I was a kid,
that though we had a dining room in our house, we only ate there on Sundays or
on special occasions, such as when guests were over. The rest of the time, we took our meals
around the kitchen table. This was also
the room where plans were made, household accounts were kept, mail was read,
letters were written and neighbours were entertained around tea or coffee.
Of course nowadays, with
larger houses and shifting North American living habits, many of these
functions have gravitated to living rooms, dens, family rooms, home offices and
recreation rooms. Nonetheless, at least
psychologically and nostalgically, the kitchen remains a special place in a
typical Ukrainian home.
The other inherited trait
that defines most Ukrainian homes is the yard, and specifically, the
garden. During our house hunt, when we
surveyed a potential yard, one of the first things my wife would picture is
where the garden would go. And by
garden, I don’t mean flower beds and landscaping; I am talking here of
tomatoes, onions, garlic, carrots, dill, horseradish and all the other
vegetables and herbs that make up a typical Ukrainian backyard.
Mind you, the vegetable
gardens that my wife and I had planted over the years were pale in size and
ambition to what my parents cultivated in their day. They made sure that the houses they acquired
all had a huge backyard suitable for large scale domestic agriculture. Every square foot was put to good use. Every conceivable vegetable had its place,
carefully planted and tended to in long even rows. Various fruit trees marked the sides and back
of the yard.
The majority of arable space
was dedicated to potatoes, cabbages, garlic, carrots and beets as these were
the staples that carried us through the winter.
In every house we lived in, my father would construct a large insulated komirka
or cold cellar in one corner of the basement, which at the end of the harvest
season would be packed to the ceiling with large burlap sacks and bushel
containers of the various root vegetables.
Every fall, the harvested
cabbages would be converted into a barrel of sauerkraut. The making of kapusta was a festive
event, and I took great delight in operating the cabbage shredder or shatkivnytsia,
the output of which would go into the barrel, alternating with layers of
pickling salt. The contents were pounded
down with a large wooden club called a makohon, and once the barrel was filled,
my father would place a large stone weight on top and the cabbage were set
aside to ferment.
Although these memories
evoke fond nostalgia, it is hardly likely that my wife and I will be planting
long rows of potatoes and cabbages in our new soon to be garden. Knowing the amount of hard sweat and labour
that went into our parents’ mini farms, our vegetable garden will be more
symbolic than productive. Nonetheless,
we are greatly looking forward to getting our hands dirty at least a little
bit, and revelling in the accomplishment of growing our own garlic and tomatoes.