Nostalgic Bashny.Net

There is an anecdote about moronic girl who once fortune smiled: she caught a goldfish. Fish, as usual, to buy off the three desires. Delighted girl first asked that she became hairy ass and then cold to sit. Fish wish. Then the girl asked the hairy legs, so as not froze. And it was fulfilled. Girl has thought about it and asked her to do all hairy. Looking at the resulting monster, fish, unable to stand, he said: "Girl, why you do not want to become a smart, beautiful and rich?" She eyes widened, "What, you?»

When I first heard this anecdote, I was reminded of school mathematics Olympiad - in the fourth, perhaps, the class is fairly middle of the Moscow school. There, among other things, give tasks "on intelligence." For example, there was such problem: nine square points (three rows of three dots) to be connected with four segments, but still connected to the line. I worked for ten minutes - precious in this situation ten minutes! - Fumbling a pencil between these damned dots and keep getting an extra segment. In the end I gave up. And then I found a solution. It was found that the line could be carried out outside the square formed by dots. I remember, I was terribly annoyed: why not say that it is allowed ?! Then ... if yes if.

However, an affront went for me. Since then, I began to pay attention not only to what is written in terms of a problem, but the fact that they are not spelled out.
 It's, however, "small philosophy in deep places." It's about time too and put it to work, that is for another story. But first a little more rassuzhdalova: so be patient a bit, and then get clear.
 It is known that the Russian people can be accused of anything, but not a lack of intelligence. "Savvy", if someone does not know - a kind of practical imagination. It is based just on taking away some implied and the well-known "no" to "must try." For example, use any tool for other purposes: well, there is a microscope to hammer a nail, "absolutely not intended to." Sometimes it works surprisingly well: the nail is packed with microscopic precision.

The Soviet government, in many respects pernicious, aggravated the most popular to the extreme ingenuity. At a time when every necessary thing could vanish from the stores at any moment - and for all - increased the nation of inventors and innovators, capable strongly to everything. And from an early age.

Well, for example. I knew a little bespectacled namby-pamby, who wanted to have the book "The Master and Margarita", and in the store to buy a book if it was no way. Then he decided to reprint it, the benefit of the parents was a typewriter. However, I realize that the monkey work of such volume requires something more than "four copies" - and thought up to create a machine that would make an unlimited number of "Marguerite". For this purpose, he tried to fill the text is not on paper but on the foil-foil planted underneath a blotter, and then the resulting convex foil dipped in plaster and fill the tin. The result was a punch that can be used in a makeshift printing press. As the first page it was, however, beneath all criticism, but sharp-witted boy did not back down and improve the technology until the parents swept him for these activities. Fearing that the offspring of that kind, still succeeds, and would start to multiply something quite obscene, Dad still bought it, "Margarita" at the Kuznetsk forty rubles.

I also remember the girl alone grow together the torn her mother's gold chain - which you need to be at least Leskov Lefty ... Or - five-foot length of the glass tube on the wall in one intelligentsia house: there peppered coffee powder, after which the top was set a vessel with the melt water arising on Drops: In the bottom of the tube trickled very strong coffee extract ... Or, for example, the method of fixing curtains, adopted in our house: they hung on buttons, play the role of mobile elements in channel iron bar. Optimal for this purpose buttons purchased in the "Voentorg" - Especially useful were uniformed yellow with star ... The story of the original designs of moonshine I think I'll save for another time.

And yet. Sometimes spontaneous ingenuity come across some strange wall in the head. Some things are somehow considered impossible a priori.

For example. Soviet housewives were incredibly creative. They were able to make quite a decent meal of any arbitrarily chosen set of products. They knew the secret of roasting sausages inedible to an acceptable taste. They could make the fish edible rockcod. They could make gravy from bone broth, vinegar and gooseberry jam. Known they were secretly pickles and liqueurs, and home canning is considered a national sport. When on some oversight of the authorities fell into the hands of mistresses ... meat "is yum" as they say now the impressionable UNIC.

However, there are many products manufactured in a very elementary way home, which, however, did not know how to do.

These included, for example, mayonnaise. Somehow, it was believed that this store of products, which is absolutely impossible to make at home. Born in the USSR believed that mayonnaise is only the treasury of production - well, I do not know how Worcestershire sauce any.

Mayonnaise sold in glass jars 250 ml with rolled-up cover. He was a product of the deficit - in other time, even in a jar placed food orders. However, this is dependent on time and place. In Moscow, mayonnaise, in general, looked, but periodically disappeared from the shelves - usually at the most inopportune moments. And besides, he played a huge role in the design of the Soviet holiday table. Without it quite unthinkable was the most important ritual food - at least the same salad "Olivier", as well as roasted meat and fish. Hence the specific mayonnaise suffering when like all the products collected, and mayonnaise-darling - gk ... The restructuring of the mayonnaise and all of us left.

Well, I grew up in the same faith: mayonnaise - a product that makes to some sort of "fat plants" on a complex special technology.
 Imagine my surprise when I - in the time of youth - turned out to be a guest in an old house where the kitchen Grandma bossed Mafusailovyh years. And now, looking at this very kitchen, I was surprised to find there is a strange device: a small bottle with a cork, cut in two places, the top and bottom (to the air inlet). Judging by the smell, it was vegetable oil.
 When I asked mafusailoobraznoy grandmother, what it is, she contemptuously squinting and raising his hooked nose, she told me that it is a tool for making mayonnaise.
 I am, to put it mildly, stunned. It appears amenable upromyslivaniyu mayonnaise at home? What is possible?
 Grandma slyly explained that the mayonnaise - it's very simple. You just need to whip the egg yolks with salt and sugar and add a drop of whipped vegetable oil. Better olive, "but where do You take it." The main thing - that the oil was added in small portions, and a bottle of what she put itself on one side, and it was dripping from it in whippable egg yolks. Then everything is fixed with a spoon of mustard and lemon juice.
 Also, I learned from Grandma that you can add garlic and pepper aioli sauce and turn, and if cut back pickles, parsley and onion a little bit - that will tartare. She called a few names of sauces, sonorous and mysterious, like the names of the Musketeers. But this wisdom has been for me to have overtime. But the fact that this product is extremely scarce, it turns out, is not so difficult to manufacture ... it's a really changes the picture of the world, yes.
 But it is fine mayonnaise, okay even aioli sauce! That I would have survived, but ... well, in order.

In my childhood there was a pink especially hated me a drink, which is why some children willingly regaled. It was called "cocoa." It is not good title match the content: it was a pinkish-brown "sweet type" liquid. I hated this stuff, like a child may hate tasteless food that fools the adults somehow find delicious and stuffed her "loving." To my misfortune, this stuff was part of the school lunch menu and spoil my joy izyumistyh and delicious poppy rolls and glazed cheese curds, which had nothing to drink. I bought myself some tea with a slice of "Aeroflot's" sugar - it was much better than the brown-pink bueee.
 Especially as I was offended that adults called this drink "chocolate." The very idea offended me deeply. Chocolate something I loved. And a very good idea of ​​what should be the drink of chocolate. It has to be chocolate, here.
 But in the books that I read as a child - especially historical - from time to time come across the description of the so-called hot chocolate. His drinking Ladies and Signora, ottopyrivaya little finger. The drink according to the description, was very hot, fragrant aromas and extremely caressed language. I was also aware of the fact that the curses and the West coveted hot chocolate is also not uncommon superhuman, but on the contrary, it is currently an ordinary thing. In the treasury of ressentiment against the edges of the intoxicating it added its contribution, a small but weighty.
 Sometimes - rarely - loving parents took me to some Soviet cafes, sometimes in "Chocolate". There, in particular, he had the grace as "pancakes with chocolate." They also poured chocolate sauce. I studied it with interest, he was thin, yes, but it was not drink, do not.
 More coverage existed cake "Prague" of "chocolate." But it was clear pepper, is not it.
 From time to time I have, of course, visited the vague thought: what if the usual melt chocolate? That's what I tried - in a tin bowl on the fire. The result was some burnt garbage. Water bath - ie pan with boiling water, which should be put in other, smaller - also came to mind, but that there should have been "messing around." And most importantly - he pressed the press: Well, the same can not be everything to be easy. Otherwise, all would do just that drinking hot chocolate. But since no one is drinking and drinking vile "Cocoa" - hence, in the preparation of this magic potion has secrets, essentially irreproducible in our dull lives.
 Finally, this convinced me one smart boy, who was also interested in this question. His intelligent Pope explained that the hot chocolate need not simple, and the concentrated chocolate, which in the Union are not able to do, and buy in the United States only to members of the Politburo. As for "only for the Politburo," it seemed to me still lazhey, but the general idea was quite reliable. In fact, "there must be a reason."
 Then I heard one of the girls that in some Moscow cafe still serves hot chocolate. The descriptions match the book, but it is not comforting. Cafe - it was some kind of another world.
 Time passed: perestroika, glasnost, kirdyk, tyrdyk, ding-bu-bu. I went ninety-fifth year. I was doing this crap, and remember that a shame. My friends, acquaintances engaged in the same crap, too shameful, often vomiting, often dangerous. Once I went home to one of the companions of earnings.
We sat in a tiny komnatёnke and discussing money matters. His charming young but economic husband asked me if I wanted tea or coffee. I do not like coffee and tea from the I'm sick. That's what I stated, referring, in fact, on a beer or something stronger.
 But my expectations were deceived. For a short time through this lovely young lady brought a tray with two small white cups. Inside was something black.
 Yes, yes, it was him! Hot, devil he fought, chocolate!
 To my credit, I knew it right from the first glance. The first sip - however, a drink, it was so heavy that it had to be eaten with a spoon - has dispelled all doubt. It was just what I dreamed in my childhood dreams. The same taste, I've been waiting for so many years. The same smell that in the thoughts of dreams. The same color, the same size and so on down the list.
 My first thought was: Well, delivered. Finally, to the dark, writhing in the throes of Russian market came the most enigmatic raw materials used to make this miracle. The very concentrated chocolate. We lived up to happiness.
 And, of course, I immediately asked relevant questions: How? Of what? where you purchased?
 - And nothing - in confusion dear young lady replied. - A chocolate rub on a grater, our only good ... add milk and cream, spices and Gray. It melts, well, that's ... More brandy can add a little bit. And generally it is better to make cocoa. Just now there is no good cocoa.
 - What is cocoa? - I almost cried. - What is cocoa? Cocoa cocoa makes this so disgusting, it is impossible to drink ...
 - Cocoa - lady repeated even more confused. - Three tablespoons per cup of ... I've bought a culinary book, there is a recipe - she said very quietly, almost apologetically.
 It was then, and I opened the terrible truth.
 Three. Dining room. Spoons. And the gray-pink bastard well placed if one teaspoonful. Only the amount that the laws of dialectics is transformed into quality. Just something simply. Well, the milk instead of water. All wisdom. Anecdotal "Jews, do not stint on tea leaves." And yet it is the "what is possible?".
 And it's impossible to even write off that damn commies deprived people "bourgeois luxury." Fuck you! The recipe for hot chocolate does not hide at night, damn kegebe and cocoa powder was generally available. Expensive, but a lot of our other favorite treats more expensive. And it would be in my bedraggled life is another bright spot.
 However, as a result, I learned that a certain reason in the arguments about the "concentrate" was. Good hot chocolate "in the enlightened state" is made of special granules of dark chocolate, in appearance, by the way, pretty shabby. But in general this is not necessary. All this was in elementary knowledge. No, not even the knowledge - it was enough just to think about. I myself might have guessed. But something is not enough - just this very "possible." Because I somehow knew that the "impossible". What is brown powder can only do the opposite of cocoa and everything. All because this fucking drink cocoa and petyukayut - means no other choice. It's so obvious.
 ... I doge text to the middle of the penultimate paragraph, when my daughter came to me and asked for candy. Sweetie, it calls any goodies, which will see on the table. But this time it was really candy - cheesy dirolovskie mints of chemical waste. They really like it, so that it drags for the fourth.
 Like every parent in my place, I thought it was a bit much.
 - You can not - I said my daughter.
 - Why not? - Logically enough she asked. She always asks, because I always say.
 And I answer this question because the word "impossible" - a dangerous word.
 In fact it is not. There is no such thing - "you can not do." There are many other concepts. For example - "disgusting", "lazy", "dangerous", "unhealthy", "illegal", finally. Just do not "impossible". Because it does not mean anything, it grows and fills the mental space. And when then begin spohvatki - "what is possible?" - It is usually too late.
 In good, it would be better not to drink at all. But in a conversation with the children, it breaks with the language itself. In some cases, I literally force myself to say instead suggests "no" to something like "I forbid it." Because "I forbid" hold on in her head as much as my father's time bans would be relevant to her, but "no", because of its uncertain nature, can remain and grow in the baobab any complex.
 In this case, however, the situation was simple. I did not want to give her a piece of candy just because he learned as a child: children should not be given a lot of candy, "and that I-ah-ah." What exactly are "ah-ya-yay", I do not remember exactly, but to rely on the opinion of sprouted out of nowhere did not want to.
 I had, in short, look for rational arguments.
 - This is bad candy - I said cautiously.
 - Dad, well you eat them - again logically daughter said.
 Then I had to retreat: parental example - a strong piece. Of course, I could have lied, that these sweets can be eaten only to adults, but I do not like to lie to your children for nothing.
 - You'll ruin your appetite myself - I started to say, but recalled that it had already had dinner.
 Another reason for failure, I figured it out.
 - All right, I make - I handed her a blue Thing. - Bury. Can.

Konstantin Krylov
From