This chef is fighting a culinary battle for Ukrainian identity
The front line of the war in Ukraine stretches some 600 miles. The cultural battlefield, meanwhile, covers an even wider expanse, extending into every library, museum, theater – and, for Yevhen Klopotenko, every kitchen.
“Our language, our food, our literature all existed before Russia existed,” says Mr. Klopotenko, whose victory on the cooking show “MasterChef Ukraine” in 2015 launched him into celebrity orbit. “They’ve taken so much from us. We just want to take back what’s ours.”
Starting in 2017, Mr. Klopotenko embarked on a culinary rescue mission, seeking to liberate traditional dishes held captive during the centuries of Russian rule that preceded Ukraine gaining independence in 1991. His efforts inspired the menu at his first restaurant, which opened in Kyiv in 2019, and now he has collected his discoveries in “The Authentic Ukrainian Kitchen.” The English language cookbook includes 100 recipes – ranging from banosh to borsch, halushky to holubtsi – that he has updated with 21st-century flavors.
Why We Wrote This
In the midst of conflict, culinary traditions become acts of resistance. At his restaurant and in his latest cookbook, Ukrainian chef Yevhen Klopotenko is reviving the meals that have long fed Ukrainian identity.
The book furthers Mr. Klopotenko’s crusade to aid the Ukrainian cause. In March 2022, a month into Russia’s full-scale invasion, he opened Inshi (“Others”), a bistro in the western city of Lviv where people fleeing the fighting could eat gratis by ordering off a special menu. Later that year, he successfully lobbied UNESCO to declare borsch – no “t,” per the preferred Ukrainian spelling – part of the country’s “intangible cultural heritage” that needed “urgent safeguarding.”
Monitor contributor Martin Kuz recently met Mr. Klopotenko at Inshi to learn about his culinary journey since the Maidan Revolution in 2014 that ousted Ukraine’s then-president, Viktor Yanukovych. The chef discussed his desire to familiarize his compatriots with true Ukrainian cuisine, his commitment to feeding them throughout the war, and the role of food in defining national identity. The interview has been edited for clarity and length.
Before you could educate others about authentic Ukrainian fare, you had to educate yourself. How did that process evolve?
After the revolution of 2014, I started to think a bit deeper about Ukrainian cuisine, and around 2017, I started to really discover it because I was thinking about opening a restaurant. I asked myself to count 10 Ukrainian dishes. So I started: borsch, varenyky, pampushky, salo – those answers came very fast. But then I had to think, “What else is Ukrainian cuisine?”
Every day from that moment, when I was digging deeper into the Ukrainian culinary world, I felt one step closer to my country and one step farther from Russia. It’s such an interesting feeling when you start to eat the foods which were eaten a hundred years before you. You feel the connection. This gave me adrenaline because it was like discovering gold.
How has the war shifted your thought on who you hope to reach with native dishes?
Before the huge invasion, I wanted to show the world what Ukrainian cuisine is. After it started, I understood that I have to feed the Ukrainian people because food saves lives. And when they started eating Ukrainian cuisine, it started to open the Ukrainian world for them – the same as it did for me. What’s important is people here discovering Ukrainian food, trying to cook it, trying to understand its place in Ukrainian identity.
Chefs across the country have shown a devotion to feeding Ukrainians displaced by the war. What explains that dedication?
The hospitality business has a special type of people who like to serve. “Hospitality” comes from hospes [a Latin term most often translated as “host” or “guest”]. The core of this business is much deeper than food; it is to fill the guest with the feeling they need. In the most awful times of our national story, we are always caring for and helping each other. It’s in our DNA.
How did that sense of compassion lead you to establish Inshi?
I was standing in the railway station in Lviv in February 2022 when the refugees were coming. And I was thinking that if my house and business were destroyed by bombs, and I had my phone and nothing else, what could I do?
I opened Inshi for people who had nothing. Imagine if suddenly you had no house, no possessions. You’re hungry and you come into a restaurant and you have to say, “Please give me food.” I made it so that they could come to the restaurant and say, “Give me menu No. 2” – without feeling that they’re begging.
The Soviet diet was heavy on salt and generally bland. Traditional Ukrainian food is more flavorful thanks to a wider variety of herbs, spices, and cooking styles. Why didn’t Ukrainians embrace it sooner?
This is a post-empire problem. It is difficult because it is something new to people – they had a lot of memories of dishes they ate in the USSR. Since the invasion started, Ukrainians have been changing everything to be separate from Russia: music, history, language. Now I want to do this with food.
Do you see your work as part of the broader effort to reaffirm Ukrainian identity?
Before 2014, most people would say, “Yeah, we’re Ukrainian... maybe... I don’t know.” That’s because Russia always mixed everything in the USSR. What happened in 2014 was more people were finally seeing that this is a totally different country. I’m trying to create a much deeper understanding of who we are. If people are eating Ukrainian food, they start to be more Ukrainian, they’re more connected to Ukrainian history. This is just the beginning.
How can promoting Ukrainian cuisine change external perceptions of the country?
Food is another way to step away from Russia. It’s not to show the world that we are so strong because we have our own food. It’s not about resilience; it’s about existence. Food for us is a language to say, “We are not Russian. We are Ukrainian.”
