A TALE OF TWO TASTINGS TWO MEALS WITH CHEF NATASHA POGREBINSKY Story BRADLEY HAWKS FOOD 14 | BOROMAG.COM | DECEMBER 2013 We are driving in a Dodge Stratus to a town in Brooklyn called Weeksville, preparing for a day of feasting. But we have to rst pick up ‘the goods’ in Brighton Beach. Natasha’s brother, Sasha, is driving, while Natasha reminisces about the days she and her brother rst moved to the states. She speaks of her father trading his collection of paintings, the Kremlin hidden beneath a blanket of snow, a kind man who saw an artist in her father once he was in America, and she speaks of pastries. We pull up to a stand on a street corner somewhere on Neptune, and I am overcome with smells of yeast and pickled sh. Sasha, in his sailor hat, is practically skipping in glee. is is the rst Monday he and his sister have had time to relax together in a long, long time. I am just thrilled they have invited me along. We move to a supermarket down the street to get cans of sh, jarred caviar, beet and potato salad, and even more pastries. My brain is ooded with sights and smells entirely foreign to me, and I start taking pictures. e shopkeeper notices, and charges straight at me and I brace to get tackled. He calms down when I assure him I am not investigating. “We need to get some vodka now”, Sasha laughs, and so we move to the liquor store, which is full of bottles I have never seen. At the apartment, we celebrate with all of the avors Natasha and her brother loved as children. We feast on cod liver and smelt in stewed tomatoes, salmon roe and blinis, roasted eggplant and potato cakes, goulash, gizzards, and pattypan squash. All in all I count twenty-nine dishes on the table, and we practically devour them all. And then we all slide down in our chairs while Sasha sings to us a Russian lullaby on his guitar. It has been a perfect day. ree months later, I receive an email from Natasha inviting me to try her newest tasting menu at Bear Restaurant. She thinks it is kind of special, which means it is going to be outrageously delicious, because Natasha doesn’t usually brag. I am so excited. To eat with Natasha is to know her. e daughter of an artist, she uses ingredients like a paint palate, mixing tastes and pairing avors in breathtakingly inventive ways. e rst course is warm brioche with a parsley garlic butter paste, tongue with horseradish and potato sauce, all for dipping and inventing bites in a giant bowl of borscht. Next comes a sh aspic, followed by tongue and blood headcheese with sharp beet horseradish and marinated mushrooms, a liverwurst paté, and bagel crisps. Tru e crepes arrive next, followed by tomato-crusted branzino, dumplings with chicken heart, and even a pumpkin pappardelle. e meal rolls out like a timeline of the in uences on Natasha throughout the years, and my stomach is very happy—perfectly content. We nish with a hunters stew of goat, oxtail and lamb, and I am ready to go to sleep. “Would you like something for dessert?” Natasha asks. “Nope—that was absolutely perfect.” Bear Restaurant 12-14 31st Ave | Long Island City, NY 11106 (917) 396-4939 | www.bearnyc.com Sasha Natasha Pogrebinsky Pogrebinsky
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