Aleksey’s Market
716 Thompson Lane. 383-0071
Hours: 10 a.m.-8 p.m. Tues.-Sat.; 10 a.m.-5 p.m. Sun.
Eastern Europeans spend a lot of time at the table,” says Alexei Khimenko, a native of Moscow who came to Nashville eight years ago to dance for the Nashville Ballet. “We don’t rush through our meal and run from the table to turn on the television. When we sit down to eat, we stay for a long time.”
Chances are, visitors to Khimenko’s new Russian and Eastern European food market will also stick around for a while, considerably longer than it takes to dash into your neighborhood Publix for a gallon of milk and a loaf of Bunny Bread. Transplants from Minsk, Omsk and Yakutsk will be welcomed in their own language, surrounded by familiar sights and smells. And Nashville natives will be treated to priceless lessons in the geography, cuisine and culture of a mysterious and far-off place that few of us will ever have the opportunity to visit.
Khimenko’s years of disciplined dance are apparent in his erect frame, as he seems to float above the floor, gracefully moving up and down the aisles of his market. After retiring from the Nashville Ballet one year ago, he pondered the next step for him and his wife, Mayumi, also a retired dancer. They had come to love Nashville and had bought a house here. He was very familiar with the Berry Hill area, as his dance studio was in the neighborhood, and he had become good friends with Troy and Jeanie Smith, the owners of nearby Baja Burrito. “Troy was so inspiring to me, the way he does business, and he gave me good advice,” Khimenko says. “I knew it would be good to have him for a neighbor. I like this area; people drive through it every day on their way from one place to another. It seemed like a good place for a business.”
Thinking of how difficult it was for him to find a taste of home in his adopted city, Khimenko researched the import food industry, decided it was viable, found his location and set to work converting what had been part of the Mattress Warehouse store next door. “I had to learn so much,” he recalls. “I didn’t know anything about opening a business, codes, taxes, inventory. We were delayed a few times by inspections, but I finally opened Sept. 23. The first customers who came that day were so happy to be able to buy things they knew from home. I went home that night with the best feeling. I knew I had done the right thing.”
On clear days, the late-afternoon sun streams through the large windows fronting the small store, illuminating the brightly painted walls and the colorfully printed boxes, packages, tins and jars of foods imported from Russia, Poland, the Ukraine, the Czech Republic, Bulgaria, Lithuania and other distant lands. Khimenko eagerly and generously explains the products, which is particularly helpful with items that carry no English translation whatsoever. A green-and-yellow box in one cooler, for example, gives no clue as to its contents other than an illustration of a cluster of leaves on a tree branch, and a tell-tale slosh when shaken. Khimenko reveals that it is birch juice, a popular beverage made from the bark of the birch tree. Another box is beautifully illustrated with a basket of shiny red berries against a green and golden field; one side is printed in Russian, the other in English: red whortleberry. Whortleberry? The side panel offers further information: “Red whortleberries are the subject of many Russian sayings and proverbs.... Red whortleberries are known for its priceless healing properties.” A sip brings to mind cranberry juice and the immediate notion that red whortleberry juice would be an excellent mixer for vodka.
Several shelves are filled with pretty jars of pickled vegetables, everything from mushrooms to carrots to garlic. “In Russia, it is a very long winter,” Khimenko explains. “We pickle everything.” To the puzzlement of some American customers, there are more than a dozen types of pickles. “People ask why we have so many pickles,” he says. “I tell them they are all different. Polish pickles are not like Russian pickles. And we eat different pickles for different times. We eat one kind of pickle at dinner, and another kind of pickle sitting around drinking vodka.”
Dried seeds are a popular Russian snack food, and Aleksey’s Market stocks two types of sunflower seeds—regular and black—plus pumpkin seeds; all are packaged in the store in sealed plastic bags. “It is a habit in Russia, you eat seeds all the time. When Americans come in and see them, they ask if they are for the birds. I say, 'No, no! Not for the birds, for you!’ I don’t want to sell them for the birds!”
One deli case is stocked with cheeses and meats, some familiar to Americans, though many are not. Khimenko gladly slices off samples to taste. Head cheese—sausage made from meaty bits of the head of a calf or pig—may not be a taste universally shared, but some ethnic groups are passionate about it and take it home in hefty rounds. Likewise, a specialty known as Basterma, dried meat topped with roasted red pepper, is particularly sought after by Armenians and Muslims. Nearly all of the meats come from Patak-Bohemia, a celebrated Czechoslovakian-owned business in Atlanta; the selection at Aleksey’s includes several types of bologna, including veal and chicken, as well as salamis, pastramis, mortadella, liverwurst, blood sausage and veal rolls.
Among the fresh cheeses are several yogurased ones, and others flavored with garlic or seeds. Particularly popular and versatile is manouri, a semi-soft snow-white cheese shaped into a log; smoothly flavored, it is reminiscent of a feta without the saltiness, or a goat cheese without the tang. Of particular note is the fact that Aleksey’s fresh-cut meats and cheeses are priced considerably lower than those in local chain groceries and specialty stores.
Another deli case is devoted to smoked fish—including trout, herring and three types of salmon—and that intoxicating Russian specialty, caviar. Khimenko carries two types of red and one black, sold by weight. Though Tennessee liquor laws prevent him from selling that other Russian specialty, vodka, another case is stocked with a variety of beer he cajoled Lipman Bros. distributors into importing from Lithuania, Russia, Czechoslovakia and Poland, including the acclaimed Zywiec brand.
Aleksey’s carries several types of rye and dark, dense breads, and those with a sweet tooth will be well satisfied with the cakes, cookies and candies. Two whole shelves are devoted just to Russian chocolates, which are sold by the pound and come in vividly festooned foil wrappers.
Asked if there is a sizable Russian community in Nashville, Khimenko laughs. “Well, there are between 40 and 6,000 Russian-speaking people here, depending on who you ask. Quite a few have been in; the Predator hockey players have found us. It is almost like a club here. People come in and ask for help to find a job, or a doctor, or a place to live. They visit here, have a cup of coffee, they check out Russian books and video from our library. If I don’t have something they want, they write it in the book, and I look for it. It is a place for a community to gather. But not Russian only. For anyone in Nashville who would like to come to know us.”
