Syedyshev Oleg
Syedyshev Oleg

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Humorous Essays Based on students' memories

"All have died
except for those who are alive, and those whom we remember"Confucius

Essay 8. Batya

Batya was how I called my father Syedyshev Petr Andreyevitch, a disabled WWII veteran and a very nice man. For some reason my parents were convinced that all students were starving. And of course, their own offspring was sitting hungry at the lectures, dreaming about a piece of bread. So not to let me starve to death, I regularly received sacks of potatoes and jars of jam and pork lard - I vividly remember - in postal (plywood) boxes. In addition to that I was given sufficient amounts of money to buy food. My mom and dad used to give me the money secretly from each other and asked not to say a word. In those remote days I remember I liked home made Kurniki (chicken pies). My mother, Aleksandra Mikhaylovna, made them wonderfully well. Just imagine: a lower crust of yeast dough and on the top of it there are finely cut potatoes, then chopped into small chunks chicken or duck (better low-fat) meat, then onion rings, though not very thin. Of course, there are bay leaves, black pepper and obligatory salt. All these were in quite a big quantity covered by an upper crust made of yeast dough as well.

Before enjoying a kurnik

Kurnik's edges are carefully pinched together for juice not to leak from the inside of it. And then into an oven it goes. Unfortunately, I do not know how long it should sit in the oven, as I never made this meal myself, and had it only ready to be enjoyed. Of course, my parents knew that I loved kurniki, so just imagine the following situation.

My group and I are having a class. And at that time my batya came from Kedrovskiy open cast mine and brought my favorite kurnik. It was huge - of the size of a baking tray from the oven. Batya put it on veneer not to break it and wrapped in towels and something else, I do not remember now, to keep it warm. So there was batya sitting at the institute's administrative building (which was in Kirovskiy district) and getting at all the passing by students and professors with a question of how he could find his son, Syedyshev Oleg. I think that at the beginning all who were bothered were ready to swear at him, in spite of the fact that batya looked quite respectable. But no, their intention disappeared as soon as they smelled the odour which was coming through all the rugs the kurnik was wrapped in. Batya would add that he brought a pie to his son and wanted his son to eat it while the pie was still hot. You know, the people changed right away. Everybody wanted to help my batya to find his starving son. At the institute and in the hall on the first floor some animation started, everyone asked each other who Syedyshev Oleg was and how one could find him. My batya was helped by our Dean Muroseyev Lev, if I am not mistaken, or maybe it was not Muroseyev, I do not know, it's not that important. One of the professors came into the class and apologized to the lecturer and asked him to let Syedyshev leave the class, as there was his father waiting for him at the entrance with a pie. I went out, met and exchanged kisses with batya, accepted the pie. He was a tactful person, mentioned a long trip back as an excuse and quickly left.

After enjoying the kurnik

I do not remember how this happened, the classes were over or something like that, but our whole group gathered around me together with some fellows, and all of us went to try the kurnik.

I will not describe the party in details, just say that each of the present received a small piece of the pie, though there were drunk oceans of wine. Everybody loved the kurnik, I was asked to tell my parents that they were marvelous and wonderful people, and that next time there would be no need to look for me around the institute for a long time.

And it was exactly that way; batya brought kurniki many times since then.

july 4, 2011

© Copyright: Oleg Syedyshev, 2012
Publishing licence #21202091767

Translated by Viktoria Potykinato content ↑


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