Issue #13/68, July 1 - 15, 1999  

First off, a disclaimer. This issue's lucky eatery, Red Square (located on, you guessed it, Red Square), was once praised highly by none other than Kato of Tulio's fame. But just this once, the illiterate anthropoid behind Moscow's least edible delivery service actually got something right. Whether you're looking for a quaint little place to drag out-of-town visitors clamoring for "authentic" Russian cuisine or an affordable place for a quiet everyday meal, you could do a whole lot worse than Red Square (or Krasnaya Ploshchad, as those nutty Russkies call it).

All you hard-core authenticos out there can start things in true Russian style with any number of fat-heavy starters, both cold and hot, in the 50-150R range. There's the marinated champignons (a fave with our own, recently departed John Dolan, 78R), oliv'e salad with veal (91R), and the comparatively healthy green salad with rye croutons (60R). On the other hand, the more sensible eXhole would be wise to head for the soups, which is exactly what I did. Now you've got your kvas-based okroshka (104R) or solyanka (78/104R for meat or fish, respectively), but I'm a sucker for anything referred to as an old-fashioned Little Russian borshch (78R). Red Square's version has less of a garlic kick than what you get at the real live Ukrainian places, but it's tasty and pleasing nonetheless. The fresh mors (20R) made for a fine accompaniment.

For the next round, I again stuck to the basics, ordering the Siberian pelmeny (104R) and a glass of kvas (10R) to wash 'em on down. The pelmeny were chock full of homemade goodness--none of that frozen kiosk bullshit here. The smetana on top was, well, smetana. As for the kvas, it was as refreshing as Old Milwaukee beer purported to be in those whitewater-rafting ads from the mid '80s. And that's saying something.

By no means finished, I summoned the servile waiter to bring me another kvas as I waited for my four-corners kulebyaka (208R). Now before you get any misguided ideas, this thing has nothing to do with that unique geographical quadrangle where the Western states of Utah, Colorado, Nevada, and Arizona make their lonely desert intersection. Rather, the four corners refers to the various fillings that make this massive pastry the king of pirozhki. Reread Gogol's Dead Souls if you need a refresher course. And when I say massive, I mean it. Perhaps an especially starving dine could polish one of these bad boys on his own, but I don't recommend trying. You don't have to be as socially conscious as our own Stuart Pratt, after all, to recognize the virtues of sharing. Incidentally, those seeking just a snack but in a similar vein will dig the assorted pirozhki for just 39R.

Nor will you want to skip desserts. If Red Square's stunning rendition of the old standby vareniki with cherry sauce doesn't grab you, then the unusual black bread ice--a sort of crunchy Italian ice-style treat that soars to brown-sugary heights of delight without the aid of dairy products--certainly will. Both go for a startlingly reasonable 79R. The serviceable espresso is 26R, while the intriguing "aromatic" coffee (they were out of it when I was there) is 39R.

The grotto-like atmosphere is also worthy of praise, the curving walls and ceilings providing some interesting eavesdropping possibilities. Of course, given the restaurant's tourist-friendly location (literally inside the Historical Museum), the less stable among you may want to ignore as much as possible. For a less illuminated, noisier environment, head to the cozy jazz bar one level down. The eats are the same, the drink menu more extensive (and slightly more expensive). The music is kind of heavy on shite vocal stylings, but what the fuck do you care? It's not like you're some pedantic, liner note-writing snob. Or are you?

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