12 Essentials for a Fourth of July Feast Spanning Dacha Memories and Backyard BBQs
On July 4th we toast the birth of a country founded on the audacious idea of freedom, a place where your family landed in the ’70s, ’80s and ’90s chasing a shot at dignity and a better life for their kids. We learned to love the ritual of burgers and hot dogs, but our real fire comes from the shashlik sizzling on the backyard grill, the marinade sticky with garlic and pepper and hope. Every bite is a salute both to America and to the dacha summer dreams we carried in our suitcases.
We raise our glasses, low proof vodka style, and tuck into generous plates of comfort. Here are the 12 essential dishes that define our Fourth of July table, where every bite carries a pinch of nostalgia and a dash of red, white and blue celebration
Shashlik aka kebab meat skewered on metal sticks. Pork, chicken, beef and sometimes that exotic wild boar your uncle smuggled from the Beer Bazaar, each cube soaked in garlic, pepper and hope
Salads jazzed up with brinza cheese, sliced salami, crisp cucumbers and herbs so fresh they’ll have you missing grandma’s dacha garden party
Pickled delights: watermelon rind, dill brined cucumbers, pickled tomatoes and wild mushrooms pressed under glass jars until that tangy punch hits your tongue like a memory
Jam jars bulging with hand picked raspberries and plums cooked down into sweet protest spreads you slather on toast or dollop onto cottage cheese for an impromptu dessert
Potatoes done both ways, golden fried with onions until they glisten in oil and creamy mashed whipped with butter and garlic for the ultimate comfort forkful
Infused vodka clocking in at a friendly twenty percent proof, studded with cranberries or wild cherries for a midday toast that tastes like summer in a shot glass
Babka and tortik cakes studded with apples or chocolate, because no celebration is complete without a sugar high that sends you spinning back into childhood dreams
Fresh cherries, peaches and blueberries piled high in bowls, little jeweled promises of sun soaked orchards
Kampot juice brewed from boiled fruits and sugar then cooled in cute glass jars for a homemade punch that tastes like an old country crush
Sauces that straddle worlds, from tangy shashlik sauce to a BBQ rub that somehow tastes like American barbecue and Soviet summer all at once
Burgers and hotdogs reimagined as kotlety meat patties seasoned with herbs and spices before frying and homemade sosiski sausages
Breakfast always features eggs any way you want, with sunny-side up as the go-to or a fluffy omelet to kick off the day
As we have our parents and if we’re lucky enough grandparents and even lottery winning great grandparents near us, think what age you imagine they might live to. We all wish till 120, as the toast goes, and then after you get that number, put in how many more summers I have with them and they have with me. I thought about that the other year and boy did it hit me. Enjoy the weekend, Poopsik. Thanks to all those parents, including mine, who brought us to the USA. God bless America.
Once the table is packed, it’s clear this isn’t your typical all American barbecue. Sure, there might be a hot dog somewhere, but most of what’s here comes from somewhere else entirely from dacha summers where everything was pickled, grilled, or pulled straight from the garden. There’s that familiar Soviet countryside energy, but now it’s mixed with backyard fireworks and red white and blue paper plates from Costco.
It’s funny how these two worlds collide. The dacha was all about slow afternoons, chopping salad with brinza and dill, frying potatoes on a tiny stove, and drinking homemade kompot under the trees. Here in the States, it’s about piling everything onto a plastic table, tossing burgers on the grill, and blasting Alla Pugacheva from somebody’s Bluetooth speaker like it’s 2000 all over again. Somehow, though, it works.
Around the table, people laugh in half Russian, half English. There’s a plate of shashlik next to store bought burger buns. Pickled tomatoes sit right by ketchup bottles. Someone’s uncle is pouring homemade vodka into plastic cups while kids run around waving tiny American flags.
While some of us feel like there hasn’t been any peace in this world, we still find ways to celebrate. Usually this weekend I’m in Israel celebrating the Fourth of July. If I’m not with my family, I’m with my new family there, cooking for each other and making a barbecue together. Somehow, no matter where we are, we make it feel like home.
This is the Fourth of July for us, the place where dacha nostalgia and backyard barbecues meet, where old recipes mix with new traditions. It’s loud, it’s messy, and it tastes like home in two languages.
