What to Eat in Russia

Russia stretches from Baltic forests to Arctic coasts and steppe, and its kitchen mirrors that breadth. Long winters and short harvests favor preserved foods, sturdy grains, dairy, and hearty broths. Brief summers deliver herbs and berries, while tea punctuates daily routines at home and on trains.

Regional variety is pronounced: the Volga‑Ural, Siberia, and the Far North keep distinct techniques and tastes. Orthodox fasting shaped meatless days and mushroom cookery, while nomadic legacies encouraged portable doughs. Many households still center meals on soup, bread, and a hot, filling main.

Pelmeni begin with a simple wheat dough of flour, egg, water, and a pinch of salt rolled thin; rounds are filled with finely minced beef and pork, sometimes lamb or venison in Siberia, seasoned with onion, garlic, black pepper, and occasionally allspice. Each dumpling is folded into a half‑moon and joined at the tips to form the classic shape, then traditionally frozen outdoors; boiling them in salted water or light broth with bay leaf keeps the filling juicy, and a knob of butter or spoon of smetana is customary at the table. Bite into one and the elastic yet delicate wrapper gives way to aromatic meat and a burst of hot juices, balanced by tangy vinegar or mustard if you like sharper notes. The practice of assembling large batches for winter storage is associated with Ural and Siberian households and hunting parties, and the dumplings remain common at home dinners and workplace canteens, especially in cold months, served plain or ladled in broth.

Shchi is a cabbage soup built on a meaty or mushroom stock: fresh white cabbage or sauerkraut simmers with onions, carrots, and sometimes potatoes, while aromatics like bay leaf and black peppercorns add depth. For a richer version, beef or pork ribs are browned before water is added; for lean days under Orthodox fasting rules, cooks rely on mushrooms and vegetable oil, then finish with dill, and on non‑fasting days a dollop of smetana. The broth tastes tangy and savory if sauerkraut is used, or mellow and sweet if fresh cabbage dominates, and textures range from silky cabbage strands to tender meat, best accompanied by slices of dense rye bread. Dating to medieval Rus and captured in the saying shchi da kasha—pishcha nasha, it remains a weekday lunch and dinner standard in homes and cafeterias, with sour shchi especially welcome in winter and herb‑bright versions more frequent in summer.

Blini are thin pancakes made from wheat or buckwheat flour whisked with milk or kefir, eggs, a little sugar and salt; many cooks use yeast for a gently fermented lift, though quick batters are common too. The batter rests for better flavor and elasticity, then is ladled onto a hot, lightly greased skillet and spread into a thin circle; the finished blin is tender at the center with lacy edges and a delicate aroma of butter and grain. They carry both savory and sweet companions—tvorog, sautéed mushrooms, smoked fish, honey, jam, or, on festive tables, red or black ikra—so a blini spread can move from appetizer to dessert. Strongly tied to Maslenitsa, the pre‑Lenten week that marks winter’s close, blini are also everyday fare for breakfast or quick dinners, appearing at home gatherings and seasonal street stands alike.

Stroganina is an Arctic preparation in which raw, ultra‑fresh fish—often whitefish such as muksun, nelma, or omul, and sometimes reindeer meat—is frozen solid in natural subzero temperatures and shaved into translucent ribbons. Working quickly with a sharp knife, the carver slices along the grain so the pieces curl; they are eaten immediately with a mixture of coarse salt and black pepper, sometimes with finely chopped onions, and paired with scalding tea to balance the chill. The taste is clean and faintly sweet, the texture firm yet yielding as it warms on the tongue, with fats locked in by the cold so there is no greasiness. Rooted in the foodways of the Sakha (Yakutia) and northern Indigenous peoples, stroganina appears at winter family gatherings and community celebrations and, in northern towns and fishing camps, often opens a meal as a special cold appetizer before a hot soup or stew.

Chak‑chak, from Tatar and Bashkir kitchens, begins with an egg‑rich dough kneaded to elasticity, rolled and cut into short sticks or tiny pellets that are deep‑fried until crisp and golden. The pieces are tossed in a hot honey syrup, often enriched with sugar and butter, then quickly molded by hand into domes or rings; as it cools, the glaze binds the cluster into a crunchy‑chewy whole. Its flavor is floral and lightly caramelized, with gentle richness rather than overpowering sweetness, and it keeps well for days, which made it practical for travel and gifts. Traditionally offered at weddings and major holidays in the Volga‑Ural region and now widely enjoyed across Russia, chak‑chak is most often served with tea in the afternoon or as a celebratory dessert after savory courses.

From Arctic stroganina to Ural pelmeni and Tatar sweets, Russia’s table showcases climate‑savvy preservation, portable doughs, and a steady devotion to soup and bread. Seasonal rhythms, Orthodox fasts, and diverse landscapes shape dishes that are straightforward yet expressive. For more food‑first travel insight and to plan where to go next, explore Sunheron.com and use our tools to match destinations with the weather and experiences you want.