Kyiv1 cake has been on my mind for months. I dreamed of its taste as I’ve been dreaming of a journey to the city and beyond. Airy, crunchy layers of hazelnut meringue, cemented by chocolate buttercream and chocolate glaze, adorned with old-fashioned buttercream leaves and flowers. Kyiv cake tastes like Central and Eastern European past, a shared heritage, a promise, an unanswered question; it tastes like heaven.
I remember the very first time I tasted Kyiv cake. For the story’s sake, let’s say I was young, or rather I felt young for I was in love. It was one of those languid summer afternoons in Budapest, a perfect backdrop for young love: even the dogs in the suburbs stopped barking and amicably sought shade to lie down, feeling gratitude for the entire world. Ripening fruit was hiding under the leaves of cherry trees. The air was dry, still.
There was a familiarity in leaving the office, getting into his car, and driving to his parents’ place. It was a time of seemingly neverending witty banter. Not to disturb its quiet, we snuck around the house to find the cats and the dog, and look after them. A little commotion in the kitchen, and a round box procured from the fridge. “Do you want Kyiv cake?” he asked. “What? You mean something like a Napoleon?” I asked, somewhat perplexed. “No, it’s Kyiv cake. You don’t know what it is? Look.” And with that, he lifted the cover of the box. “My mother buys them at the airport,” he added by way of an explanation. “So it’s not even fresh,” I thought. There, in the middle, in a nest of parchment paper lay a hideous cake, reminiscent of the store-bought monstrosities of childhood friends’ birthday parties pre-1989. Just by looking at it, I could taste the chemical aroma of food colouring: green, pink, and blue. “Is this supposed to be delicious?” I asked. (“Never trust the Soviets,” as the men in my family used to say.) “Well, it’s quite nice,” he shrugged.
No, Kyiv cake is not quite nice, it is much rather an experience, like time travel, like elucidation. Slice after slice vanished. Quickly, a sugar high set in and we sat giggling in the kitchen until sunset.
From that moment on, I desperately wanted to go to Kyiv and taste its iconic dessert in situ. I wanted to sit in some drab pâtisserie and eat it, imagining it’s 1988 again and fresh winds blow from the West, but we, Central and Eastern Europeans still now better and eat desserts made in Socialist factories. For Kyiv cake is a classic, clumsy Socialist cover-up for a production error. Legend has it that on a night shift at the Karl Marx Confectionery Factory, workers forgot to cool egg whites2, so, when discovered the next morning, the leftovers were turned into meringue, wedged between layers of biscuit (a particularly dry and fragile type of sponge cake in Russia and Ukraine), filled with heavy buttercream and adorned by a buttercream decoration which evoked the informal symbol of the city, the horse chestnut in bloom (said informal symbol also features on the cake box). The new creation was an instant success, and in other parts of the Soviet Union, it was considered an affront if someone, returning from Kyiv didn’t bring back a cake for friends and family.
I would have brought back Kyiv cake for friends and family. I wanted to buy it at the airport. The year was 2013. I never went.
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There is already plenty of guidance out there on how foreigners can support Ukrainians in these horrible days. “Check your news sources!” “Support the army!” “Buy from Ukrainian brands!” And whereas it would make much sense, yet it would be an outrageously silly gesture to order Kyiv cake from one of the numerous Ukrainian gift couriers. It is also impossible, you see, what with vendors shutting down operations for the foreseeable future. Instead, let me draw your attention to trusted organisations where you can donate.
If you happen to be in Hungary, you are of course much closer to where the war is unfolding, thus, you have other options and responsibilities.
You can offer shelter to your Ukrainian friends if you have a guest room, a couch, a holiday rental, or a cottage. Be prepared that communication is somewhat patchy, and leaving the country is risky business.
Send the Budapest Bike Maffia a one-off donation or become a regular patron. The team will join forces with Age of Hope to offer crisis relief at the border. Consider volunteering with them as well.
Lodging reservation platform Szállás.hu offers extended customer service hours and immediate assistance to those in need. If you know someone who needs emergency accommodation, let them know that this option exists.
If you know anyone in need of legal assistance, let them know that the Hungarian Helsinki Committee is offering free legal advice. Even though Hungarian government passed a law today to grant asylum to anybody crossing the border to Hungary from Ukraine, it is still unclear how prepared authorities will be at the border crossings and in nearby towns.
And if you just shrugged or sighed that there is nothing, absolutely nothing, you could do, think again. In Hungary there is an oft’ voiced complaint about how the global West let the country fend for itself during the Revolution of 1956; it was nonetheless a traumatic experience for a generation—we must not perpetuate this trauma out of spite. Thus, it is our shared responsibility to help those who need help now.
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Transliteration of Ukrainian names has gotten a somewhat complicated affair in recent years, especially for non-natives reading English language publications. The city had been known as “Kiev” in English-speaking literature, but that version derives from Russian. The Ukrainian Ministry for Foreign Affairs started a broad campaign named “CorrectUA” and its sub-campaign “#KyivNotKiev” to persuade media outlets to use the Ukrainian variant of place names. Hence, especially in this context, I shall name the cake by its name and use, wherever possible the Ukrainian recommendation for transliterations.
It is a much more plausible explanation that they forgot to add egg yolks or flour to biscuit, but I can’t seem to find a more precise or reliable source.
What a delicious and important read this is, Nora. I loved your descriptions of Kyiv cake, something I've never had or heard of! Thank you for sharing these organizations. I have felt a bit at loss on how to help and this opens my eyes a bit. Thank you!