Stephan Verhovensky, though a professor of liberal bent, was a serious gourmet, who, in The Possessed, took a fancy to appetizing crabmeat salads while basking in the sunshine of hospitality furnished by the general's wife, Mme Stavrogina.

Anton Lavrentievich, the chronicler of Dostoevsky’s novel The Possessed, was, in a word, obsessed by this enticing hors d’oeuvre, though, admittedly, he never chanced to meet the salad’s creator, Monsieur le Chef Olivier.

Mme Stavrogina and the gloom-and-doom philosopher, Shigalev, while holding radically opposing political views, agreed on the classical merits of this delightful meat salad of veal tongue, roast beef and young lamb.

In spite of the agitation a host of demons caused Peter Verhovensky, he found time to engage in gossip, intrigues, scandals...and this special duck salad, which only further roused his passions.

Dressed with Koubann toasted Sunflower Seed Oil 'Til the present day, it remains a mystery how Makar and Varenka, of Poor Folk, did actually meet. Culinary historians assume that their mutual passion for this famous Russian salad was what bound them one to the other.

Grushenka, the fair damsel who was longingly eyed by the Brothers Karamazov, dismissed them all, along with their jealous father, to relish in peace this deceptively simple but engaging summer salad.

Ranked by Foma Opiskin, as well as the manservant Vidopliasov, in Dostoevsky’s tale The Village of Stepanchikovo, as the most highly prized of Russian culinary accomplishments, blini-crepes were deemed by them both to be at their audacious best when relished with caviar.

After reading the novels of Victor Hugo, who was an acknowledged judge of fine salmon, Dostoevsky resolved to write The Brothers Karamazov.

The animus that Dmitry, the eldest of the Brothers Karamazov, directed towards Europe's bourgeoisie did not extend to lovingly marinated European carp.

Smerdiakov, in deep anguish following a quarrel with his mentor-inspirer Ivan Karamazov, found solace in this most celebrated of Russian appetizers.

Dressed in Koubann Toasted Sunflower Seed Oil

'Twas the mere thought of relishing this appetizing dish of herring and beetroot that assuaged the otherwise tyrannical Foma Opiskin in Dostoevsky's The Village of Stepanchikovo.

After a feast that commenced with this delicate dish of veal tongue, Dostoevsky's publisher, Kushelev-Bezborodko, felt magnanimously inclined to dispatch a thousand-rouble advance to Dostoevsky to hasten the completion of the writer's next magnum opus.

Had Alexey Ivanovich not been so emotional about his two favourite passions, roulette and jellied meat, readers might never have had the pleasure of learning the protagonist’s fate in The Gambler.

When poor Goliadkin, in Dostoevsky's The Twin, failed to receive an invitation to Clara's birthday celebration at the home of the Berendeevs, the desperate suitor nevertheless contrived a way to gain access to the main ballroom, where he was greeted by the astonishing sight of a vast array of Russian pickled and marinated vegetables.

Rodion Raskolnikov, of Crime and Punishment fame, thought for a time of pursuing a literary career, albeit a secret ambition that remained unfulfilled. His field of expertise remained restricted to appreciating the merits of fine Russian pirozhki.

Svidrigailov’s Adonis-like charm and handsomeness in Crime and Punishment was uncannily bewitching; in sad reality he was little more than a devil in disguise... but with a saintly appreciation for these divinely creamy baked mushrooms.

How unexpected ’tis for Dostoevsky’s readers to learn that the brilliant psychologist/criminologist Porphyry Petrovich could so easily find himself distracted by thoughts of escargots.

”Aha! Is it Nastasia Philipovna? What good fortune!” commented Prince Mishkin, of The Idiot, in animated but false surprise. The prince unfailingly guided his own destiny and the destinies of those round him by sound reason and careful judgement. Only financiere distracted him.

Maria Lebiadkin, in The Possessed, pined for her secret husband, Stavrogin. When her brother, Captain Lebiadkin, decided she was ripe for blackmail, poor Maria was made to toil away in a hot kitchen, providing the crafty menfolk with limitless quantities of sumptuously filled pelmeny dumplings.

Before each thought-provoking encounter with Raskolnikov, Porfiry Petrovich found that only a bowl of steaming Russian schee prepared him adequately, both physically and mentally, for the arduous interrogation.

Borsch, because of its peasant origins, had become rare in high society. Still, Nastia Philipovna, in The Idiot, always insisted on having it for luncheon, for only ruby-red borsch reminded her of the lost innocence of her youth.

After helping the inebriated Marmeladov to reach his doorstep, Raskolnikov was introduced to the Marmeladov family and was served Russian-style bouillabaisse. Had this laudable Russian soup not entered the scene, Crime and Punishment may well never have appeared in the world's bookstalls.

Before confession, Ippolite dined on elegant homemade noodles. This minor infraction left the hero of The Idiot with a convenient escape — were he or were he not to be believed by the lovely Aglaia.

With jolting frequency Nastasia, Prince Mishkin and Rogozhin failed to understand and sympathize with one another, an unfortunate state of affairs due principally to their failure to appreciate solianka's salubrious effect on the diner's mood. Would they had heeded the advice of Charles Baudelaire.

Grushenka, of The Brothers Karamazov, was an inspired cook despite habitually inviting guests to dine on but a single dish. The diners themselves were no less inspired by her culinary masterpieces, especially these savoury dumplings, which remained among her guests' most pleasant gastronomic memories.

Catherine Ivanovna was so striking a beauty that she never failed to spellbind Alesha Karamazov. Yet when his eldest brother Dmitry introduced the two of them, Alesha's heart was first captured by the baked sterlet-sturgeon.

If only Makar and Varenka, the protagonists of Poor Folk, had known of this titillating sterlet-sturgeon, salmon and pikeperch kulebyaka-delight, their fortunes may well have improved noticeably.

Svidrigailov was particularly partial to fish. On one occasion, as he sat waiting in a cafe for the arrival of Roskolnikov’s sister, his appetite got the better of him. He made haste to order a grilled salmon fillet.

When, in Dostoevsky’s Diary of a Writer, the young bachelor, Dardanelov, fell desperately and inconsolably in love with Mlle. Krasotkin, he dared to extend to her his hand in marriage. Upon receiving the damsel’s refusal, he took no umbrage, but rather found solace in his equally passionate love for Polish-style pikeperch.

Served with Chanterelle Mushroom Sauce and Whipped Potatoes

Aferdov, in Dostoevsky's Diary of a Writer, was renowned in society and generally regarded as a man of means. If the truth be told, however, he was no more than a gambler and brigand. Before commencing upon any of his enterprises, he invariably dined on milk-fed veal to gain in strength and courage.

Princess Belokonsky was, admittedly, a despot of the first order and insisted that her orders be promptly obeyed. Only when served succulently marbled beef did she tend to mitigate the harshness of her demeanor.

An aristocrat by bloodline, ever elegantly garbed and a man of no mean wit, Bakhmutov preferred that his arrival be greeted not with fanfare but rather with his favourite delicacy, tender fillet of beef prepared the way Count Stroganoff insisted on it.

Astafy Ivanovich was employed as major domo by a wealthy nobleman. On his employer’s permanent departure for the countryside, Astafy found himself without a position and without a roof. Making his way through life with his ability to recite amusing tales, he was, on one occasion, treated to an elegant rack of lamb by his spellbound audience.

Upon reaching advanced age, Ippolite, of The Idiot, became increasingly philanthropic. On his chance encounter with a young physician, the senior gourmet treated the new friend to this sumptuous minced steak (called in Russian a cutlet!).

On requesting from Prince Mishkin a portion of the inheritance his guardian, the late Squire Burdovsky, had bequeathed to him, the hapless lad stood waiting for an answer, all the while wearing an innocently caddish look, envisioning a succulent Salisbury steak grilled to juicy perfection.

When Squire Goliadkin, of The Double, became infatuated with the lovely Clara, her father, Olsufy Ivanovich — a much-honoured, retired privy councillor — took to tending his modest estate and evaluating the merits of the wondrous French invention known as fois gras.

With a reputation as a "cautious jeweller albeit in fact a pawnbroker," Isaac Buhmstein was fastidiously selective in everything. Nowhere was his discernment more evident than at dinnertime, where he insisted that any chicken destined for his table be prepared a la Marechal.

The literary critic, Monsieur Burenin, dared to incur Dostoevsky’s wrath by expressing discontent with The Idiot. To the author’s surprise, Burenin subsequently altered his opinion on Dostoevsky’s talent and wrote rave reviews of The Possessed and The Brothers Karamazov. The critic may have been fickle in assessing literary talent, but his love affair with roast duckling never wavered.

While performing tasks at the behest of Prince Mishkin, Gabriel Ivolgin, of The Idiot, gainsaid all Burdovsky's arguments that the latter had been fathered by Squire Pavlischev. 'Twas true that Pavlischev had loved Burdovsky; and yet the squire had to no lesser degree showered affection on quail, fastidiously boned and golden roasted.

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