
Essay by Varvara Sergeevna Fomicheva, PhD
When the fall comes with her cool fresh winds, unhurried walks in the autumn park, and all sorts and kinds of jams and homemade yummies, it is high time to take yourself to Alexandrovsky Park in Tsarskoye Selo. You can rustle the leaves on its alleys and certainly drop by A. S. Pushkin Memorial Dacha-Museum, take a look into the poet’s office, where according the memoirs of Maid of Honor Alexandra Osipovna Smirnova-Rosett “on the desk [there’s] a decanter of water, ice, and a jar of gooseberry jam, his favorite.” You can find a possible (and very intricate) recipe for this jam in antique cookbooks, and apparently the result is worth the while since the cherished treat was placed without fail on the desk in Pushkin’s study.
[Picture 1: A decanter of water and a small jar of jam on Pushkin’s working desk in his Dacha study — image to be inserted here]
Alexander Sergeevich developed a liking for this jam in his youth after tasting it at the house of the Lady of Trigorskoye Manor, Praskovya Alexandrovna Osipova. “Pushkin got acquainted with her, of course, during his first stay in Mikhailovskoye after he graduated from the Lyceum, but truly appreciated her and became friends with her when he settled down in Mikhailovskoye in 1824 after his exile from Odessa. After a quarrel with his father in October of the same year, he only spent nights at home, and he would spend all days in Trigorskoye. Osipova treated him with unfailing care and affection; she and her family were a great comfort for Pushkin who was lonely and yearning in exile. And subsequently Osipova proceeded to happily run all kinds of errands for Pushkin, in every way she showed him love and purely maternal nurturing” (V.V. Veresaev Pushkin’s Companions).
[Picture 2: Portrait of Praskovya Osipova, drawing by A.S. Pushkin in his Notebook — image to be inserted here]
We cannot help remembering another one – the last jar of gooseberry jam sent from Trigorskoye by the never-to-be-forgotten Praskovya Alexandrovna to Petersburg to dear Alexander Sergeich on January 9 of the fateful year of 1837. The last jar came with a scrap of notepaper with a note written in French. Three days before (January 6, Epiphany) P.A. Osipova sent the poet a very detailed letter which was mentioned in the following words: “Je vous ai écrit mon cher Александр Серьгеич en reponse a votre lettre du 22 de l’année passée que j’avais reçou le jour des 3 Rois” ‹I wrote to you, my dear Alexander Sergeich, in response to your letter of the 22nd of the last year, which I received on Three Kings Day›. Following the European tradition, Praskovya Alexandrovna refers to the date not as Epiphany (which would have been customary in the Orthodox tradition), but the Three Kings Day. This holiday is highly revered in France; it is dedicated to the Adoration of the Magi – the three Wizard Kings who had arrived in Bethlehem with gifts for the baby Jesus. Whether on purpose or not, Osipova connected the date of receiving the letter from Pushkin with the feeling of being granted a gift. “What a pleasant surprise [it was for me] – to receive your letter today, my dearly loved friend…” Praskovya Alexandrovna said in her very detailed letter of January 6.
And, without waiting for a response, only three days later the Lady of Trigorskoye Manor used an opportunity to return the poet’s gift – a jar of jam that Alexander Sergeevich liked so much. As O. Henry says in his wonderful Yuletide story: “The magi, as you know, were wise men – wonderfully wise men – who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones…” We cannot help but consider Pushkin’s letter if not wise, then certainly full of kindness (“I was quite sad at heart when your letter arrived and comforted me proving that you are still friendly treating your old friend,” P.A. Osipova says in her letter), and the jar of gooseberry jam sent in response with wishes for happiness and the note “And for myself this year I have only one wish – to see you during these 365 days.”
Alas, this story did not turn out as a Yuletide tale with a bright and joyful ending. On January 27, 1837, Pushkin fought a duel, and on January 29, he passed away in his St. Petersburg apartment at 12 Moika. Praskovya Alexandrovna’s wish to see the poet came true in the most horrible and dark way: on February 15, 1837, in Trigorskoye, she would have a chance to say her last goodbye to his coffin.
This is how P.A. Osipova’s daughter Ekaterina recalled it: “Suddenly we see through the window: coming towards us is a vozok [traditional Russian winter cart] with some two people, followed by a long sleigh with a box. We woke up our mother, went out to meet the guests: we saw our old friend, Alexander Ivanovich Turgenev. Turgenev told our mother in French that they had arrived with Pushkin’s body, but not knowing well the road to the monastery and getting too cold together with the yamshik [sleigh driver] whose sleigh was carrying the coffin, they had to come here. What a coincidence! It was as if Alexander Sergeevich could not go to his grave without saying goodbye to Trigorskoye and to us.”
Today, when we already know everything, due to our human habit of perceiving a hidden meaning in any happenstance, that last jar of jam and the note attached to it look completely different. And it seems that on that cold January evening Praskovya Alexandrovna was suddenly overcome by a restless, heavy premonition that something bad was imminent for her dear Alexander Sergeich, something frightening was looming, and there would be no more having tea together, no more entertaining conversations, no more friendly letters – nothing. And only an accidental Yuletide miracle could ward off this misfortune.
That is why without waiting for a response to her previous letter, remembering her promise to send a gift, the Lady of Trigorskoye sends a small parcel, practically at a venture to the old address (her letter from January 6 ends with the following words: “I was told that you moved to a different apartment; please let me know your address”) to the place where the Pushkins no longer reside, hoping that somehow everything will work out in the end and Alexander Sergeevich will receive her gift.
But still the last line of the note (Salut donc moncher Pouchkine et bonne nuit, car mes yeux sont fatigues d’écrire ‹So hello to you, my dear Pushkin, and good night, for my eyes are tired of writing›) is an everlasting farewell – a farewell at a distance, across time and space, a farewell she herself did not know was a farewell.
Perhaps it is not long for me
To stay in a peaceful exile,
To sigh about the dear old times
And to a rural muse in the quiet
Devote a carefree soul.
But even far away, in a foreign land
I will with constant thought
Be wandering around Trigorskoye,
In the meadows, by the river, on the hill,
In the garden under the domestic canopy of lindens.
When the clear day fades,
Alone from the depths of the grave
Sometimes into the native canopy
A yearning shadow flies
To cast a sweet glance at the dear ones.

Varvara Sergeevna Fomicheva, PhD — National Pushkin Museum
P.S. I looked for the recipes thoroughly, exclusively in cookbooks from Pushkin’s time.
“Boil clear syrup and into it place cleaned from seeds gooseberries, boil until cooked through and looks as if made of glass. After that pick the berries and place them on the plates, and boil the syrup again. When the berries cool down, put them in a jar, and pour the syrup there.”
N.P. Osipov, The Old-fashioned Russian Housewife, Housekeeper, and Cook. 1790, P. 11
“Rule 12. Boil gooseberries. [They] must be green. Take the best large gooseberries, while they are still hard and green, remove the stems and dried flowers, then rip apart each berry and with a pin pick out the small seeds, put them in cold water and let them sit a few hours in it; after than drain the cold water, put the gooseberries in a copper pot, bowl or latka [bowl, often with two handles], pour boiling water over them, cover and let them sit like that a whole day, afterwards pick the berries out of the water, lay them on the platter and sprinkle a little with a strong Rhine vinegar and again let them sit like that for a day, then lay them out on a clean towel and smooth them out so all the moisture goes out of them and let the berries dry out; finally put them in glass jars and pour a little cooled syrup made of the thickest melted sugar with rose water, and every three to four days drain the syrup and boil it again, every time adding a little sugar, and repeat this until the syrup gets thick and quits diluting. You can one last time bring the berries with the syrup to a boil and immediately pick them out, and keep boiling the syrup until real thickness, and then cool it down until slightly warm and pour into jars and tie them over and store.”
“Rule 13. Another method of gooseberries preparation. Take good large gooseberries while they are still green and hard, remove the attached dry flowers and stems and with a pin poke several holes in each berry throwing them afterwards into cold water; after picking them out of the cold water, pour boiling water over them, cover them and let the water cool down, pick them out and place them in cold water for two days changing the water frequently; after that pick the berries out and lay them out on a clean towel and let them dry, and finally at your discretion take as much sugar as necessary for the quantity of the berries, make the thickest syrup with rose water, place the berries in jars and pour warm syrup over them.”
The new complete cookbook consisting of 710 rules. Comp. I. Nawrockiy. St. Petersburg, 1808. P. 419–420
“Cook gooseberries. They are prepared and cooked in the following way: you cut the side of berries, clean out the seeds with a pin, cut tips on both ends, put the berries in cold water until you prep all berries like that, toss the berries into a sieve and let the water drain; from there you put the berries into the prepared syrup and boil down to half; then let it sit overnight in the same syrup in a stone bowl, and finally next day you finish boiling the berries in the same syrup. The same method is good for red currants, white currants, cherries, and in other words whatever comes to mind.”
K. Nemov. Experienced Cook, Steward, Cellarman, and Pastry-cook. 1829, P. 100–101