Drinking Tea in Ukraine

Many news reports described Ukrainians offering tea to a Russian soldier who was captured last week.

Old Russian/Ukrainian Samovar
(source)

Last year, I wrote about the love of tea in Russia and in Ukraine, which was formerly culturally and politically part of the Russian Empire and then the Soviet empire. Tea drinking has been a part of Ukrainian-Russian culture since the seventeenth century, when Chinese merchants negotiated an agreement for importing tea for the Russian aristocracy, who also owned estates in Ukraine. In the 19th century, the Ukrainian port of Odessa, which had been founded in 1794, became the location where tea arrived in the Russian empire, making it more affordable for everyone. And of course who can help thinking about Odessa, now threatened with being bombed by the Russians.

The samovar, an important part of Russian and Ukrainian tea culture, is large water-boiler that stands on a table top. The samovar used liquid fuel, charcoal, or (later) electricity to keep hot water ready at any time without using the stove. A small teapot with very concentrated tea would sit atop the samovar. To make a cup of tea, one would take some of the strong tea from the teapot and mix it with the boiling hot water from the larger vessel. Often, a spoonful of jam or a lump of sugar would be added to the cup. A guest might also be offered cakes or fruit with the tea. The samovar became widespread during the 19th century, and continued to be used in the 20th century. Ukrainian herbal teas and infusions, made from local berries and plants, are also popular there. I have tea and samovars on my mind as part of my thinking about Ukraine and the ongoing tragedy there.

Kasimir Malovich, "Samovar," 1913, Malevich was a Kyiv-born artist
of the early 20th century, a leader of avant-garde art styles.

In my blog post about the samovar last year, I wrote that the poor Jews in Eastern Europe drank tea, but really rich people would enjoy it with many more delicacies. Tevye the dairyman, the fictitious narrator of a number of stories about a village in Ukraine by Sholem Aleichem (and later the hero of the musical "Fiddler on the Roof") described the lavish life of the rich people this way:

They carried out hot samovars with glasses of tea, sugar and preserves, delicious omelets, fresh, wonderful-smelling butter cakes, and afterward all kinds of food, the most expensive treats, rich, fatty soups, roasts, geese, along with the finest wines and tarts. I stood off to the side and marveled at the way, kayn eyn horeh, the rich folks from Yehupetz eat and drink, God bless them. I’d pawn everything I own, I was thinking, if only I could be rich. The crumbs that fell off their table would have fed my children for a week, at least till Saturday. (Tevye the Dairyman, p. 53)

Note that Yehupetz was a Yiddish term for a far-away big city, namely Kyiv. It can also mean something like the middle of nowhere. When I was a child and I heard someone mention Yehupetz, it always seemed so far away; now Kyiv and the horrors of war there seems further away than ever. And kayn eyn horeh was a Yiddish expression meant to keep away the evil eye, which seems like a good idea at the moment even if you aren't superstitious.

This blog post is to be shared with Elizabeth at the blog Altered Book Lover, where each Tuesday many bloggers share memories, photos, or other ideas about a drink, especially tea. Blog post © 2020, 2022, mae sander.