Category: Food & Drink

SHAM ROCK TO SOME: YULIA SEMINA LIVE AT HARRAT’S PUB KARAGANDA KAZAKHSTAN.

I went to an Irish pub to watch an acoustic performer: what was I thinking of?

On this slushy and already inky end of November I amble up Nurken Abdirov Ulitsa. This is sort of Karaganda’s Oxford Street and I pass the coloured lights of pizza houses, Georgian and Korean restaurants and various shopfronts on the way to my destination.

`Are you here for the kvis?` a young lady asks me as I enter. After a double take I tell here that I am here early for the Yulia Semina concert and fumble around for my ticket. However, she just directs me to the bar.

Harrat’s Irish Pub in Karaganda offers a wide range of corporate beers but, as it is my first time here, I decide on the on the Harrat’s own house beer. At 2,000 tenge this is of average price and turns out to be a so-so lager-beer. I make a mental note to graduate to Starapromen next time.

I sense a lived-in feel to this pub even though it only threw its doors open last April. No doubt this impression is given with studious care. There are many joke memes, film posters, beer mats and so on arranged about the place and mostly in the English language, as well as the regulation paper currencies from around the world pinned on the wall behind the bar.

Global outreach.

`Immerse yourself in the unforgettable atmosphere of a real Irish pub` promises the Harrat’s Irish Pub website of their own venues. This pub, spacious, pristine and somehow solid has more of a feel of the sort of establishment that sprung up in the cities of Britain in the early Nineties. Nevertheless `Irish-pub` has now become such a familiar collocation – like `Italian restaurant` say – that it seems a bit churlish to questions its meaning.

Harrat’s Irish Pubs – the largest Irish Pub chain in the world -are very far from being British. Igor Kokourov first set one up in Irkutsk, Russia, of all places in 2009. Now its venues have spread out to the rest of Russia (there are several in Moscow), Kazakhstan (there was also one in Almaty, which I avoided when I was there), Kyrgystan, Hungary, Belarus, Cyprus, and even America – but none in Ireland, of course.

Kokourov chose the `Irish` theme because it suggested something `classical`. He aimed to project an ethos of `cosy chaos` and to reach out to ` 20 to 40-year-olds who like quality music, quality products, are cheerful, not aggressive, understand jokes and don’t wear Adidas`. (Cia. Ru, February 26th 2020) No gopniks, then.

We create happiness`. [nnKassir.ru]

Perhaps it was such a demographic which was immersed in the slick quiz which had pop music related questions projected onto the TV screens dotted around the place.

As I sit at the bar killing time this pub quiz crowd is replaced bit by bit by slightly older and more sober groups of people, all pushing forty or older. Numbering about a hundred, these are my fellow spectators and amongst them I see no children, nor college kids.

Not the target market.

Confession time: I am only here because an advert for it appeared on my social media feed, nothing else was happening and I needed some copy.

The fact is that unplugged music, solo acoustic in particular, leaves me cold. When it comes to rock and pop, I really relish in the orchestral mash up of mingled and treated and amplified strings, drums and keyboards. Without that, the sound is altogether too spartan and sequestered for me. So, I had no high expectations as to what about to transpire..

Local heroes.

Yulia Semina consists of the lead vocalist and songwriter of the Kazakh band Anomaliya.  Formed in Astana 21-years-ago this pop-rock four piece have two albums to their name and numerous singles. Quite early in their career they built up a fanbase in their own country, so much so that the entertainment store corporation Meloman became their sponsors. Appearances at Russian festivals followed and punters came to know them there too. By 2006 they even found themselves touring with the legendary Noiche Snapeiri (the Night Snipers).

ANOMALIYA back in their heyday {Genius.com]

Like Gorod 312 before them, and many a band for that matter, they have since relocated to the big apple of Moscow.

Their output could be placed in the same broad pigeonhole as Zemfira, albeit without the spiky brilliance of that Russian artist.

Pleasant host.

Semina finally arrives at around 7:30. She looks fresh-faced and relaxed, is about the same age bracket as her audience and donned in the new nondescript global casual style. She sits cross legged on a stool on the floor level stage before us.

She begins with a remark about having found the streets of Karaganda to be pretty as she strolled around them earlier then starts.

There are fast paced robust rocky numbers and some more reflective downbeat ones. Without doubt she has a fine voice: penetrating, clear and with quite a range. Yet to me it’s all strum-strum-strum – warble in a high register strum-strum-strum – warble on a low register and repeat.

I have to say that the prejudices that I took with me about acoustic solo sets remain not just intact but are reinforced. I find myself weaving my way through the onlookers back to the comfort of the bar.

There is some variety when a technical hitch stops the show. A rather nervous guy in a regulation pony tail arrives onstage to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow and then it all begins again.

The food scoffing, inebriated crowd are getting what they came for however and join in some of the songs. Her set lasts about an hour twenty minutes, which is a long time to play solo without so much as a bottle of Borjomi water at hand so respect to her for that. I just wait for the conclusion, when the crowd will chant `Spasiba! Spasiba! `

This comes after a significant sign off from Semina when she plays a – fittingly Irish – cover of a famous Cranberries song. The song is `Zombies`, known for its antiwar content with its mention of `with their guns and their bombs`. I also realise then that the vocal style here, that moody sincerity, is very much the one that Semina seems to be aiming at, but not fully reaching.

The beer has not worked and I make my way out into the night to be ready for the first day of winter tomorrow. Nobody has asked to see my ticket.

Lead image: ticketon.kz

DESIGN FOR LOUNGING.

FOR SOME THE KRUZHKA BARS ARE SPORTS BARS – OTHERS ARE JUST HERE FOR THE BEER.

Below street level we find a septic alcove with orange walls and chunky polished dark wood tables lit by a creamy lamp glow. A posse of twenty-somethings lounges on leather armchairs as if set for the night.Between them lies a four litre beer dispenser from which they pump autumn leaf coloured ales into heavy glass tumblers….
Welcome to a standard Kruzhka bar.
Kruzhka – meaning `mug` or`tumbler` -represents Moscow’s premier sports bar and beer restaurant chain. Its affordable wares and relaxed ethos ensure that it remains a stopping off port for many a student and expat.

Part of the cityscape.
The first of these opened its doors in March seventeen years back in the Profsouyuznaya area in the south-east of the city. Since then – from Proletarskaya to Prospekt Vernaskovo, Taganskaya to Chertonovskaya – Krushka emporiums with their signature illuminated orange-knife-and fork-with-beer tankard-between have been sprouting up near metro stations throughout the metropolis. They come and go. For example, a pleasant one in a wooded part of Voikovskaya has just vanished as has a long-standing one on Gazetny Pereleuok but there are always new ones to replace them.

The Kruzhka beacon.
[franshiza-top.ru]

A Moscow initiative,the network has been bleeding into locations as distant as Khanti-Mansisk and Tumen (both in West Siberia) and there can even be found on in Minsk, the Belorussian capital.
The product.
The owners of the Kruzhka empire maintain a low public profile. Enter a Kruzhka bar and you will be served by young men from Tajikistan or Azerbaijan who, whilst not quite  the all smiles and help of a jolly inkeeper, seem attentive and hard-working enough.
Despite some pretension to being a craft beer specialist, the main beverages on offer are Zhiguli and their own house beers, all going for an average of 190 roubles for 0.5 litres. Their plain Krushka beer is pleasant but real hangover material.
Not so the Kruzhka Pshenichnoye – their Wheat beer-which is a velvety quaffable delight and counts as one of my favourite beers.

Kruzhka Wheat Bear.
[Beer Project.ru]

As a Brit, the process of drinking and eating are worlds apart, so I have little personal knowledge of their food. Between midday and 5 pm (or later, if they are in the mood) a scorched burger can be yours as can pork and chicken sausages, borsch with smetana and pelmeni in broth: standard Russian fare for which you can expect to pay no more than 300 roubles.
In refreshing contrast to all the craft beer joints with their Deep Purple and Green Day standards, the soundtrack to Kruzhka bars are youthful and townie friendly  Russian lounge hip-hop.
On every wall is fixed a TV screen which, when not nagging you about some dismal soccer match, is either switched on to Bridge T.V.  giving us up-to-the-minute European pop or showing promotional slides of people Having a Good Time in Krushka bars.
It is no surprise to discover their brand template -the menus, the colour scheme, the funky orange rugby shirts that the staff wear, the butch furniture and glasses – is to be found among all their bars .But there is still room for variety.
The Chistye Prudy Kruzhka resembles a sanitised German bierkeller whereas the one in Prospekt Mira a chilled living room, with a hookah lounge next door. In terms of buildings, the Partisanskaya Krushka, on Izmailovskaya Shosse, resembles a Japanese temple plonked without ceremony right in front of the Alfia hotel.

Sports intrusion.
That Kruzhka is a sports bar is something that I like to forget. Many an evening there has been besmirched by the goggleboxes showing green pitches with screaming commentary and by non-regular punters jumping up and down bawling `Davai! Davai!`
If, as the old saying has it, `Golf is a good walk ruined` – then… football is sure as hell a good drink ruined!
But,when without the sound and fury of penalty shoot outs, a Kruzhka bar can feel like an unpretentious haven. The interiors are well-maintained and never either too chilly or sweltering. You can get mellow there with no questions asked.
As my companion for many years, the places have their own snapshots of memories.
That time a friend of mine wanted to order a non-bloody beef burger. We spent some time looking up the Russian phrase that would get this idea across and said it to a waiter who, lo and behold, returned…with a chicken burger!
That chubby lawyer who accosted me once as he downed expensive champagne in his two piece suit, to drown that bad time a woman at work had given him…
The group of old dears who came in for an impromptu vodka party and, without asking, had the rap music switched to Soviet period ballads in their honour….
That false summer last June when a hired band was playing on the patio in front of the Prospekt Mira Kruzhka. They were cranking out a decent version of `Sunshine Reggae` and a random beaming young woman from the audience joined in on the tambourine….
The Kruzhkka bars, amenable to all and somehow very Russian, form a vital part of post-Soviet Moscow daily life.

 

Featured image: reutov.biglion.ru

Krushka site: www.kruzhka.ru

Kamchatka beer bar, Moscow.

The locale of many a lost weekend.

 

Should you get that craving for sweet relief from the harpy-screech of the Metro ringing in your skull, from the pompous 4-by 4 drivers honking at pedestrians and the lonely crowded thoroughfares – from Moscow in short –then there is a cubby-hole you can head for. This appears in an unlikely setting.

Fancy meeting you here.

Along the upmarket shopping street of Kuznetsky Most you will meet the red neon sign of Kamchatka Pivbar. Named in tribute to Russia’s wild and volcanic peninsula, and part of a chain that also takes in St Petersburg, Kamchatka bar resembles (with apologies to John Osborne) a real, if decayed tooth in a mouthful of gold filings. The café-bar is nestled between Vogue café on the one side and an Asian restaurant known as Mr Lee on the other: both salubrious joints of which I can tell you nothing. Not only that,  but the place is bang opposite an entrance to the lordly State Department Store, GUM. Thus may a cat look at a king and seedy hipsters be the neighbours of the tweed-and pearl set.

Cosy dive.

Opening from a pedestrianised street, Kamchatka boasts two floors, one of them a basement. As we enter we encounter an orange brown interior lit by industrial globe shaped lamps. The seats have desks with inverted Heinz ketchup dispensers on them and these are surrounded by a motley assortment of bric-a-brac and retro cool. Above the exposed brickwork big old-looking signs hang from the ceilings promoting outdated looking wares. On the walls, and on the beer mats you can appreciate the saucy kitsch commercial art of Valeriy Baroikin. His idyllic vignettes illustrate `Beer For Cultural Relaxation` on behalf of Zhiguli brewers.

Zhiguli promotional by Valeriy Baroikin.
[Illustrators.ru]
Totter down to the basement hall and you pass a bicycle fixed to the stair railings. Down there parties of people lounge about on small armchairs and halved oil drums with cushions in. You will be needing the spacious male and female toilets there too.

`Better a light beer, than a Bright Future`.

The main attractions are the Zhiguli beers, the cheapest of which – their Barnoye – will relieve you of just 150 Roubles. Served to you by hyperactive student waitresses, this soapy ale delivers the right kind of chillaxing buzz without making you go cross-eyed and singing Rule Britannia. The beer though is gassy – gassier than a gas explosion in a gas factory in Gazigazgorod. So you might have to resign yourself to being a Viz Comic character for the next day.

With a dash of Slavic irony the establishment also offer two FREE bottles of champagne to any customers between 3 and 5 in the morning. This seems rather generous of them until you think it over.

Foodwise there are a number of unmedicinal stomach fillers on offer. Hardy boys at a furnace near the entrance can hammer out a shaurma with chicken, and a number of burgers (which I am told are edible).  Soviet style soohariki (dark dried bread) is sold in paper cones at the bar.

The soundtrack constitutes an appropriate mix of  technoed-up pop songs by Bratya Grim and Grigory Leps plus the worst of Retro FM. This creates the right kind of nightclub-like expectancy without forcing you to shout at the top of your lungs.

A Bunch of Sweeties.

The clientelle come and go announced by blasts of cold air at the front door. Their average age is 25 and there are two kinds: those en route to something more active and those at the end of a  sentimental drinks journey, who are crawling on their lips. In spite of this, I have yet to be enlisted in a fracas here, although I have heard tell of such.

The not-so-elfin doormen are concerned for the most part that you do not bring in anything vegetable, mineral or liquid that would compete with Kamchatka’s sumptuous repasts. They are quite serious about this: I have lost vast banquets of food from the fact that, on the way out, I am too refreshed to reclaim my confiscated items or because the security staff have switched over, or some combination thereof.

Cheer and cheapful.

Kamchatka beer bar hosts an affordable drinking experience in a convivial and unpretentious environment. Even with the rise of micro-breweries, less and less venues in the capital can offer the same.

To get there, come out of Kuznetsky Metro station and…just follow the in-crowd. Or leap into a taxi and ask for `Kamchatka`(although if your drive proves to be a long one you might just be in for a spot of volcano watching).

Kamchatka beer bar on Instagram.