Cheburek is one of those great feats of Central Asian product engineering—stewed meat that comes with its own carrying case.
I lived in Moscow in the bad old days, the mid-90s, when it was a somewhat violent city. It was the kind of place that, if you happened to be finishing a beer while walking home at night, you might smash one end of the beer to fashion a makeshift weapon, just in case. But these days there is very little shivving going on in central Moscow. In fact, there’s very little spontaneous anything, and very little still has that old edge. But lunch at Cheburechnaya Druzhba is a glorious way to get at least a feeling for the Moscow of my early twenties. Cheap, greasy, delicious.
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