Fermented Russian brew makes fervent comeback

By Douglas Birch ~ The Baltimore Sun

MOSCOW - Outside the Savelovskaya Metro station, Galina Krivonosova performs one of the city's rites of summer, pouring draughts of the national semi-soft drink from a tanker-trailer that looks like it could be used to haul toxic chemicals.

"I don't like Pepsi or Coke at all," says Krivonosova, 41. "I prefer kvass."

Russians are practically raised on it, she says. And what's not to like, she asks, about a drink traditionally made of fermented, stale rye bread? "Bread is very healthy and tasty."

For about 60 cents a quart, peddlers fill cups with the murky, fizzing liquid. Muscovites on their way to work or school toss it back the way some have vodka, and babushkas trundle home with a liter in empty soda bottles.

Like Russia herself, kvass -- the name comes from the Russian for "sour" -- is zesty, piquant and, in its traditional form, somewhat alcoholic.

Like Russia, kvass is making a big comeback. The stout-colored liquid once seemed headed for oblivion, threatened by a glasnost-era infatuation with Western soft drinks and a post-Soviet preference for Western products in general. According to one survey, kvass consumption fell from 16 gallons annually before the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution, to 2 gallons by 1989 and to just half a pint by 2003. Although Russians are drinking a lot less kvass than they once were, experts say consumption is increasing. For nostalgic and patriotic reasons, all things Russian are suddenly stylish. Kvass -- like the Orthodox faith and Communist-era symbols -- is once again a source of pride.

Mass production

The brew has traditionally been produced at home or in small-scale commercial plants. But now, some of the Moscow area's largest beer breweries, including the mammoth Kostroma Brewing Plant, are engaged in commercial kvass production. The city government has even launched a string of kiosks called "Moscow Kvass," dispensing a traditional form of the beverage from taps like beer.

But commercially brewed kvass doesn't always taste like the traditional beverage, gourmets say. The reason is that kvass is like homemade bread: it's only good when its fresh, and it doesn't stay fresh long. Normally, the beverage spoils after 48 hours, about the time it takes a Moscow peddler to sell an 80-gallon tanker-load.

To extend kvass' shelf life, manufacturers are forced to pasteurize it, filter it or -- worst of all, in the eyes of purists -- make a kvass-like beverage using syrup, sugar and artificial carbonation.

So the Russian government has launched a crash program to figure out how to keep traditional-style kvass fresh without ruining its flavor. Leading the effort is Konstantin V. Kobelev, a scientist with the All-Russian Scientific and Research Institute of Beverages, who works in a lab in a drab building about a mile west of the Kremlin.

Kobelev is working on perfecting a method to extend the shelf life of kvass up to six months. He predicts that his new method will be ready for testing next spring.

Kobelev said he frequently gets calls from entrepreneurs who want to start a commercial "kvasovarnya" or kvass brewery. He said the cost would be at least $100,000 for the equipment needed to meet health standards.

Traditionally, kvass is quaffed by everyone from babushkas to babies, despite its alcoholic content -- now limited by law to 1.2 percent.

Few would flinch at giving low-alcohol drinks to children in Russia, where teenagers drink beer on the street and vodka is often considered a health tonic.

"By many, kvass is considered nonalcoholic," Kobelev says.