Опять двадцать пять
Ув. мистер Нил Гейман! Кто же это постоянно гоняется за Вами с мисками борща и тарелками винегрета? Почему так обязательно в каждой книге смачно, с большим удовлетворением описывать отвратительную и неудобоваримую русскую кухню? Состоящую, судя по вашим описаниям, на 50% из свеклы во всех видах, а на другую половину из капусты и жира. Насколько я знаю, из России родом большое число ваших поклонников, и вы не доставляете им радость пассажами типа этих:
"Zorya Vechernyaya took five wooden bowls and placed an unpeeled boiled potato in each, then ladled in a healthy serving of a ferociously crimson borscht. She plopped a spoonful of white sour cream in, and handed the bowls to each of them. <...>
The borscht was vinegary, and tasted like pickled beets. The boiled potato was mealy.
The next course was a leathery pot roast, accompanied by greens of some description-although they had been boiled so long and so thoroughly that they were no longer, by any stretch of the imagination, greens, and were well on their way to becoming browns.
Then there were cabbage leaves stuffed with ground meat and rice, cabbage leaves of such a toughness that they were almost impossible to cut without spattering ground meat and rice all over the carpet. Shadow pushed his around his plate. <...>
At the end of the meal, Shadow was still hungry. Prison food had been pretty bad, and prison food was better than this.
"
(с)American Gods
"
What is that?” asked Bod, horrified.
“Good food,” said Miss Lupescu. They were in the crypt. She had put two plastic
containers on the tabletop, and opened the lids. She pointed to the first: “Is beetroot-barley-stewsoup.” She pointed to the second. “Is salad. Now, you eat both. I make them for you.”
Bod stared up at her to see if this was a joke. <...> “It smells horrible,” he said.
“If you do not eat the stew-soup soon,” she said, “it will be more horrible. It will be cold. Now eat.”
Bod was hungry. He took a plastic spoon, dipped it into the purple-red stew, and he ate.
The food was slimy and unfamiliar, but he kept it down.
“Now the salad!” said Miss Lupescu, and she unpopped the top of the second container. It
consisted of large lumps of raw onion, beetroot, and tomato, all in a thick vinegary dressing. Bod put a lump of beetroot into his mouth and started to chew. He could feel the saliva gathering, and realized that if he swallowed it, he would throw it back up. He said, “I can’t eat this.”
“Is good for you.”
“I’ll be sick.”
<...>
Miss Lupescu continued to bring Bod things she had cooked for him: dumplings
swimming in lard; thick reddish-purple soup with a lump of sour cream in it; small, cold boiled potatoes; cold garlic-heavy sausages; hardboiled eggs in a grey unappetizing liquid. He ate as little as he could get away with."
(с)Graveyard Book
Китайскую, например, кухню слабо так описать? С ее целыми тушеными куриными лапками и прочими замечательными потрохами. Но нет, вас же тогда американизированные китайцы живьем съедят, pun intended. А вот русскую еду попинать можно, все посмеются и посочувствуют.
"Zorya Vechernyaya took five wooden bowls and placed an unpeeled boiled potato in each, then ladled in a healthy serving of a ferociously crimson borscht. She plopped a spoonful of white sour cream in, and handed the bowls to each of them. <...>
The borscht was vinegary, and tasted like pickled beets. The boiled potato was mealy.
The next course was a leathery pot roast, accompanied by greens of some description-although they had been boiled so long and so thoroughly that they were no longer, by any stretch of the imagination, greens, and were well on their way to becoming browns.
Then there were cabbage leaves stuffed with ground meat and rice, cabbage leaves of such a toughness that they were almost impossible to cut without spattering ground meat and rice all over the carpet. Shadow pushed his around his plate. <...>
At the end of the meal, Shadow was still hungry. Prison food had been pretty bad, and prison food was better than this.
"
(с)American Gods
"
What is that?” asked Bod, horrified.
“Good food,” said Miss Lupescu. They were in the crypt. She had put two plastic
containers on the tabletop, and opened the lids. She pointed to the first: “Is beetroot-barley-stewsoup.” She pointed to the second. “Is salad. Now, you eat both. I make them for you.”
Bod stared up at her to see if this was a joke. <...> “It smells horrible,” he said.
“If you do not eat the stew-soup soon,” she said, “it will be more horrible. It will be cold. Now eat.”
Bod was hungry. He took a plastic spoon, dipped it into the purple-red stew, and he ate.
The food was slimy and unfamiliar, but he kept it down.
“Now the salad!” said Miss Lupescu, and she unpopped the top of the second container. It
consisted of large lumps of raw onion, beetroot, and tomato, all in a thick vinegary dressing. Bod put a lump of beetroot into his mouth and started to chew. He could feel the saliva gathering, and realized that if he swallowed it, he would throw it back up. He said, “I can’t eat this.”
“Is good for you.”
“I’ll be sick.”
<...>
Miss Lupescu continued to bring Bod things she had cooked for him: dumplings
swimming in lard; thick reddish-purple soup with a lump of sour cream in it; small, cold boiled potatoes; cold garlic-heavy sausages; hardboiled eggs in a grey unappetizing liquid. He ate as little as he could get away with."
(с)Graveyard Book
Китайскую, например, кухню слабо так описать? С ее целыми тушеными куриными лапками и прочими замечательными потрохами. Но нет, вас же тогда американизированные китайцы живьем съедят, pun intended. А вот русскую еду попинать можно, все посмеются и посочувствуют.