Pavel, Before the Revolution

Tambov, Russia, 1916. This is the last photo of Pavel that we have.

A Closer Look (Part 60)

Tambov, Russia, 1905. This is Pavel, the father of my paternal Grandmother, Tatjana.

Here's the original post.

Babos Receptai (Part 3)

My paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, was a Russian aristocrat. Her father, Pavel, served as one of Tsar Nicholas II's regional governors (Pavel also was a friend of Tolstoy's, but I'll leave that story for another day). Pavel was working in Omsk when Tatjana was born. Later, he served in Tambov. When the Russian Revolution erupted, the Bolsheviks executed Pavel and (we believe) one of Tatjana's brothers.

Tatjana's aristocratic roots crept through many corners of her life. She was proud of her lineage, and she drew sharp lines about what sort of behavior was appropriate for descendants of the noble class. For instance, before I went on my first "date" (an afternoon, picnic outing to Brookfield Zoo), she observed that only a prostitute would hold hands with a man in public.

Tatjana also, like other Russian aristocrats of her era, admired and monkeyed French culture. She insisted, for example, that I learn the French language, and she fluidly quoted French novels and poetry. Tatjana often spoke of Catherine the Great's mastery of French culture. Many years after Tatjana died, I worked with a fellow whose grandparents (or possibly great-grandparents) had found exile in Paris after the Russian Revolution. His experience made me wonder whether Tatjana wouldn't have been happier living in France.

Tatjana's love of French culture, however, did not influence her cooking. French food was rarely on the menu. The only French item Tatjana sometimes made was Pâte à Choux. When Tatjana made choux pastry, she usually filled the puffs with Jell-O Cook & Serve Vanilla pudding (because instant pudding is for unaccomplished cooks). When she made the filling from scratch, she used this recipe: 

Cooked Cream for "Petit Schout"

                        and for Napoleon

Melt one stick of butter with 2-1/2-3 tablespoons flour. Gradually pout in 1 cup milk and 1 cup half-and-half. Cook, mixing constantly (like you would for a white sauce), until everything is heated through and cooked.

Beat together 3 egg yolks with 3/4 cup sugar. Slowly mix this with the cooked cream mixture, and cook again, as you would ice cream, just until the mixture starts to show blisters. Then cool the mixture over ice, mixing well, and then adding vanilla, or orange rind, or almond extract.

[At the bottom of the page—in lighter colored ink—Tatjana added the recipe for the choux pastry:] 

Slowly heat 1 stick of butter and 2 spoonfuls (tablespoons) sour cream with 4-1/2 cups flour. Mix until the dough starts to hold together. Remove from heat and, mixing with your hands, divide the mixture into six pieces. Place in the refrigerator, then back at 400^oF until the pieces are cooked through.

It's Sunday; why don't you come over for coffee.

Suburban Chicago, January 1966. Mom entertains a friend in Tatjana's corner of the living room. Barbie's the doll now wearing the fashion folkdress. Mom's still working on the red mohair sweater she wore the following summer in Glacier.

(Also on the table is this photo of my great-grandparents.)

Russian Roots, Revisited

Tambov, Russia, about 1905. I posted a photo of Pavel and Nina K.—the parents of my paternal Grandmother, Tatjana—when I first started the blog. The image was one my Dad had rephotographed. Dad had zoomed in on the subjects' faces, cropping out a good part of the photo.

I recently found the original print stored in the envelope called "Babos šeima Rusijoi"—Grandma's family in Russia. I post the image here: the original gives a better view of my Great-Grandparents, sitting in front of their house. Pavel has a newspaper on his lap, and Nina K. holds some work; I wonder if it's mending.

Russian Style

I'm a great fan of all things Tolstoy. I'll probably see the new Anna Karenina, but I'll wait until it's released for home viewing.

Can Anna Karenina fashions translate to the modern market? Banana Republic seems to think so. But these pieces look more like an interpretation of Dr. Zhivago.

Tucked close to the heart.

This photo of my paternal Grandfather, Vytautas, today slipped out of the address book of his wife, my paternal Grandmother, Tatjana. I was checking the old address book for some other information, and I was surprised to find the photo. I had never seen it until this morning.

Tucked in the address book also was a snapshot of Tatjana's sister, Elena, a photo of Tatjana with her father and one of her brothers, a holy card from the First Communion of her other Granddaughter, my Toronto Cousin, and Tatjana's old Blue Cross/Blue Shield card. These items together meant something to her.

I am delighted that Tatjana chose to remember her husband as a family man, standing in the garden of their home. When she wanted a glimpse of him, she didn't reach for a formal, military portrait. She probably sought to remember him as he looked when he returned from work every day.

This photo was taken at about the time Vytautas traveled to traveled to Belgium.

Kaunas, Lithuania, about 1936. My paternal Grandfather, Vytautas, poses in the garden. Is that his daughter, my Dad's twin sister, Jonė, in the background?

I fill in a missing link.

I  don't have many images of my Great-Grandparents, and I've posted most of them here. Early on, I talked about photos of my Mom's maternal Grandparents and her paternal Grandparents.

I also introduced my Dad's maternal Grandparents.

Here is my Dad's paternal Grandfather, Ambrose. He was born in 1838, and I think this photo dates from the late 1870s: 

 

Ambrose, like his son, Vytautas , served in the Russian Imperial Army during the years when Lithuania was part of the Russian Empire. I have two modern-day relatives who are dead ringers for Ambrose.

Here is Ambrose's wife, my Dad's paternal Grandmother, Salomea. She was much younger than Ambrose; she was born in 1859. I believe she sat for this photo in about 1905:

 

When I first saw Salomea's photo, I said, "Check out that fur vest." Next, I thought, "Wow! What an exotic name." I then looked up its meaning. It's a Polish name that means "peace." My name, "Irene," means "peace" in Greek. That's a connection that never came to mind.

I wish my name were "Salomea" instead of "Irene."

Happier Ending

Soviet Union, 1939. This is Volodia, one of the three younger brothers of my paternal Grandmother, Tatjana. Until recently, I thought he had died in the Russian Revolution at the time of his father's execution. I only learned this summer that he, like Natasha and Elena, had survived the Revolution.

Eyes

Soviet Union, 1924. Great-Grandmother Nina K. sat for this photo seven years after the death of her husband, Pavel.

It's hard for me to look at her face without being overcome by her penetrating sadness.

Nina

Soviet Union, 1940. The is my paternal Grandmother's mother, Nina. After the Russian Revolution and the execution of her husband, Pavel, Nina continued to live in the Soviet Union.

Nina's expression, the way she holds the wildflowers, her hat, and her ill-fitting stockings speak to me.

Lifespans were shorter then, and times were harder. People looked older. It's difficult for me to digest that Nina was only sixty-five years old when this photograph was taken. I also find it amazing that her daughter, Tatjana, was about that same age when we sat for this snapshot.

Six Siblings

Tambov, Russia, 1910 or 1911. My paternal Grandmother, Tatjana (top row, far left), with her five siblings. These are the children who witnessed the execution of their father, Pavel.

Russian Roots

Tambov, Russia, around 1905. These are two of my Great-Grandparents, Pavel and Nina, the parents of my paternal Grandmother. Pavel served as one of Tsar Nicholas II's fourteen governors.

The Bolsheviks executed Pavel during the 1917 Russian Revolution. They shot him in front of his wife and his six children.

Fresh Off the Troika

Tambov, Russia, Winter 1913. My paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, her Brother, Lev, and her Father, Pavel. Of all the photos we have, this one is in the poorest condition. That's because Grandmother carried the snapshot slipped between the pages of a Russian Orthodox prayer book that jiggled in her pocket as she escaped Russia during the 1917 Revolution.

Grandmother fled on horseback to Lithuania—newly emancipated from the Russian Empire—catching a ride with a Lithuanian cavalryman, Vytautas, who was retreating from the collapsing Imperial Russian Army.

Grandmother settled in Lithuania, married the cavalryman, and gave birth to twins, my Father and my paternal Aunt.

UPDATE: It was a Roman Catholic prayer book, not a Russian Orthodox one.