Beetroot, Borshch and Babushka……

Rooting around in a dark and dusty corner of the attic I re-discover my ever- happy, sweet faced Russian matryoshka doll; a memento from a pre-glasnost trip to Leningrad. One thing leads to another, a shot of iced vodka here, a few blini there and before you know it I am calling my friends โ€˜comradeโ€™ … Continue reading