Would you like a glass of Kvas?

Ken enjoys the foods of the world. When he's not eating sashimi, or feasting on blazing hot Indian curry, you might find him searching for other wild gustatory pleasures.

We live only a few miles from a neighbourhood populated primarily by Russian immigrants. Of course they import their favourite foods from the motherland. Family-owned stores like "Yummy Market" stock smoked salmon; deep brown rye breads; and chocolate-covered marshmallows. Also, they offer Kvas.

Kvas, spelled Kbac in the Cyrillic alphabet, is a fizzy beverage. According to one website it's as popular in Russia as Coca-cola is in America. The ingredients: Dark rye bread crumbs, filtered water, yeast, sugar, and raisins. Actually that's only one possible variation on Kvas, but you get the picture. It's a lot more different from Coke than Pepsi is, lemme tell you. Blind taste test? You'd have no trouble telling the difference. At all.

Because Kvas is fermented, the bubbles don't have the familiar carbonated look and mouth-feel that we're used to in a soda. It's more like the head on a mug of beer.

And the taste... What can I say about the taste?

The first time Ken brought home Kvas, it looked legit. The 2-litre bottle was the same shape as a normal pop bottle, and the label was nice: glossy, 2-colour, well-designed. That Kvas went down pretty smoothly with a twist of lemon and a couple of ice cubes. I like the taste of malt. I rarely get to enjoy it anymore since it's usually offered in a milky base (Ovaltine, malted milkshakes, etc) so I enjoyed this refreshing, malt beverage.

Yesterday Ken brought home more Kvas. This time Yummy Market was sold out of the brand with the pretty blue label. Ken was advised by a gruff Russian man who was minding the store: "You like Kvas? You take this one. This the BEST Kvas. All Russians like this Kvas."

He gave Ken a bottle that looked like it had been filled in someone's unfinished basement from a rusty vat. The label was slapped on crookedly. Ken, being game to try almost anything foodwise, bought it, and brought it home.

He poured some into a glass for a taste test. We sniffed it. It had a definite "potting soil" aroma, with a whiff of "sewage treatment plant". We checked the expiry date. "It's good until July," said Ken. "Unless they meant July 2008." We decided that we would trust the Russian proprietor, which was pretty bold of us, I think. Only last month I read a book about all the different methods used by Russian special services agents to assassinate politically inconvenient people. They are expert in poisons.

However, I didn't think Yummy Market would want to lose a customer. I took a sip, and tried to decide if I liked it or not. It was right on the line between "interestingly good" and "disgusting". I took a closer look at the bottle and became alarmed.

"What are those chunks floating in there?" I asked Ken.

"Those are the raisins," he said.

Oh right, the raisins.

In the end, I drank most of my Kvas with dinner, although I was somewhat frightened by it. It's been almost 24 hours now with no ill effects, I'm happy to report. But I think next time we'll go back to the Kvas with the pretty, blue label, the one that the gruff Russian turned his nose up at. If that's Kvas for wimps, then I'll be a wimp. I don't need any hair on my chest, thanks.