On the eve of the Russian offensive in 2022, my restaurant in Odesa had been open for six years. Despite the conflict that loomed over the country at the time, I had a good life, with my bistro, my kitchen, my family, who have lived there for four generations. Then the war broke out. We went through a winter without electricity, people began to flee and the Russians were preparing to invade us. Every night, we had to take shelter in the basement. I would go and get my mother so she could hide as well. I lost sleep, lost my lust for life, lost sight of the light at the end of the tunnel.
After two years, I decided to leave the country to try to rebuild my life and career elsewhere. I left my mother and my restaurant behind. I know my mother will never want to leave her country – it's her language, her culture, her friends, her market. She wouldn't be happy anywhere else. But I needed to go.
I first went back to France, where I had learned to cook at the Ferrandi hospitality school, when I was 18. I spent a little time in Paris, then in Nice. But I didn't have the strength to start over or settle down for good. I couldn't do anything lasting or permanent; first, I needed to heal, to take care of myself. It was the third year of the war in Ukraine. I did a little catering, charity events and took part in the Refugee Food Festival, which was very symbolic and powerful for me.
Then I moved to London. Russia has been shelling my country for four years. I work as a sous-chef in a London restaurant called Brat. In Welsh, it means "flounder." In Ukrainian, it means "brother." Sometimes, I take part in charity dinners to raise funds for Ukraine. I hope I can do more.
Talking about the fields and the sea
One thing the war has taught us is that predicting things, making plans is a bit ridiculous. I have projects, but it's more of a direction I'm trending toward. I do know one thing: Nothing makes me happier than cooking. I love doing it at the restaurant and at home, for others and for myself, making seasonal dishes that remind me of my region. Like this summer salad with juicy heirloom tomatoes and samphire – which grows abundantly around Odesa, on the Black Sea coast – on a bed of corn purée, a sweet and comforting symbol of Ukraine.
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