On top of spaghhhheeeeetti, all covered with cheeeeeeese...

...I loooooost my poor meeeeeatbaaaaaall, when somebody sneeeeeeeezed.

What a great song.  What a classic.  My grandma taught me that when I was younger.  My dad, meanwhile, taught me and my little brother how to sing a very rude song about a cow on a hill in Hebrew.  We had no idea what we were singing, but we sang it anyway because it made my dad and his friends laugh.  However, the song was subsequently banned.  

Anyway, I ate spaghetti tonight.  With sauce, and some parmesan cheese, and yeah, some anchovies thrown in for saltiness and meatiness.  I got to thinking about anchovies.  When you read the Joy of Cooking, the old-skool edition with the instructions for skinning game, anchovy paste is in EVERYTHING.  And it's kind of funny, anachronistic, and slightly gross.  I mean, anchovy paste.  Echhh.  

But then... I thought some more.  (Always dangerous.)  And I reached the conclusion that Thai style fish sauce is our generation's anchovy paste.  We put it in our marinades and dressings and sauces for the same reasons, saltiness and meatiness.  Then I didn't feel so weird about heaping anchovies on top of my pasta.  

Danny's away at a conference and now's my time to eat all kinds of strange preserved fish products that he can't stand.  I love fish.  I know not everyone does, but here's a way to experience fish and eastern Europe in a very concentrated form that doesn't involve currency exchange or a passport.  I am writing this in honor of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, who just died; may he rest in peace.

For the ultimate eastern European experience, here's what you need:

1 loaf of traditional, old skool, excellent rye bread or brown bread.  

1 or more containers of matjes (pronounced "maht-yahs") herring or shmaltz herring (Wikipedia's entry is just lame; but matjes and shmaltz herring are really about the same).  

Thinly sliced onion

Thoroughly chilled vodka (good vodka, Stolichnaya, or 42 Below, or something good, you know?) and shot glasses

One or more friends with whom you want to commiserate about the shittiness of life, and with whom you don't mind getting drunk, and who can properly appreciate the sadness of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's passing on, and possibly engage in a literary critique of "A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich."

Now, these types of herring are very strong and salty.  They are fishy.  But they're strong and fishy in a very appealing way, if you can believe that.  The onion is oniony.  You will be able to generate a very authentically rank Russian fish-onion-alcohol smell in a matter of 3 shots.  But here's the thing.  You take some bread, put a bit of fish on it, and top it with an onion.  I like to eat the fish-onion-bread and then wash it down with the vodka, but some like to do the vodka and use the fish-onion-bread as a chaser.  If you're unsure, try it both ways.  But be careful, because you might get sucked into a never-ending cycle of fish-onion-bread, vodka, fish-onion-bread, vodka, etc. and then you'll end up vomiting, and this is not something you want to vomit.  You'll feel like a seagull feeding its young.

Anyway, you can find these weird fish products most likely at your local kosher supermarket.  You don't have one, you say?  Well, let me tell you that I typed "Kansas kosher" into google maps, and it found 4 places.  In Kansas.  That's right.  The Jews got dropped there by a tornado, I guess.  Maybe if you don't have Jews or tornados, then you're out of luck.

Another thing... usually, there are hardcore garlic pickles, bread, smoked fish (I remember one time someone got their hands on sturgeon, which has been fished to near-extinction; it was meaty and amazing, but I don't advocate eating it in this day and age), assorted sausages, pickled cabbage, and random meat also available for food.  I left out pickled green tomatoes.  And, well, anything else that's been pickled.  Maybe some cucumber or potato salad, too.  The way any group of people who make drinking toasts to each other, themselves, to their families, and life in general a social event is to eat continuously; not eating is a mistake Americanized frat boys make.  And there's usually lots of talking.  And music.  And the volume tends to increase as time goes on and the vodka bottles empty.  It's a lot of fun.

So celebrate Solzhenitsyn.  Get stanky, fishy, and crunk!

Or just eat spaghetti.  I think that's where this post started, anyway...