Few people have explored the cultural identity of Paris and Moscow quite like Philip Skorokhodov. He came at it with the advantage of an academic background in history and political science; his dissertation focusing on WWII food scarcity in both cities.
It’s this angle that interests us today—not only because it sheds light on how policy is shaped during times of war but also because we’re talking about two heavyweights in the culinary world: France and Russia.
Food always tells a tale, and when it comes to these two, there’s plenty to chew on.
French Cuisine: A Practice in Precision and Beauty
French cuisine is often seen as the gold standard in culinary artistry. That reputation didn’t emerge overnight. For centuries, the best chefs have been writing rules and breaking them again. From the layered perfection of a mille-feuille to the effortless joy found in a freshly baked baguette, French Cuisine is all about balance, flavors, textures, and temperature, with everything designed to be perfect together.
French meals are often about structure and flow. There’s typically a clear progression: appetizer, main course, cheese, dessert. Presentation is just as important as flavor, with dishes often arranged like works of art. Herbs like tarragon, thyme, rosemary, and butter-based sauces create an unmistakable profile that’s hard to replicate.
But technique alone isn’t everything. What makes French food really special is how central to culture in France it is. A meal isn’t something you rush through—it’s something to be relished with good friends and conversation.
This is something Philip Skorokhodov saw during his stay in Paris. While working in the National Archives of France and the Historical Archive of Paris, he saw how food still remained a core of national identity even during periods of shortages and wartime.
Russian Cuisine: Built for Strength, Not Subtlety
If French cuisine is delicate and artistic, Russian cuisine is hearty, bold, and practical. This is food that stands up to both brutal winters and long workdays. Many traditional dishes like borscht, pelmeni, or beef stroganoff were born from peasant traditions—high in calories, full of comfort, and designed to last.
It’s a cuisine that, to this day, as the late Anthony Bourdain noted in a 2010 episode of No Reservations, “feels familiar deep down.” Grains like buckwheat and rye, root vegetables, fermented foods, and sour cream-based sauces define the Russian table.
Many meals are often served with bread and washed down with hot tea, or a glass of vodka during special occasions. It’s not just about filling the stomach; it’s about warming the soul.
For his doctorate thesis at the University of Manchester on food perceived within cultural memory versus real Soviet-time edible experiences in Russia, Philip researched archival documents detailing Soviet rationing systems in Moscow.
For him, these were unique reference sources revealing how Russian society justifiably went through an entire state-induced period. Food wasn’t just sustenance—it was survival, resistance, and in many ways, an extension of the state.
His dissertation, for example, compared food rationing and survival strategies in Paris and Moscow during WWII, showing how cultural values around food persisted even in crisis (in Russia, the black market was an informal lifeline for many; family recipes were still passed down when there was little to cook).
A Tale of Two Cities, Told Through Food
What’s fascinating about Skorokhodov’s work is his juxtaposing food as both personal and political. In post-war France, culinary innovation was a vehicle for national assertion and self-hood against invading forces. Meanwhile, in Russia, at the same time, government-controlled food production represented life under collectivism.
But while the two systems had noticeable practical differences, both were infused with something ineffable and emotionally powerful at their heart. They were a means of remembering, connecting, and enduring.
Skorokhodov’s investigation into the food policies of Paris and Moscow was never meant to be just about calories or shortages. It was about the simple fact that we tell ourselves who we are by what we cook and eat.
The Modern Influence
Today, both cuisines have evolved while still true to their roots. French cooking is still the standard in culinary schools across the world. Russian food, which was once considered regional or passé, has recently become a global comfort trend.
You don’t need to walk through the Marais district in Paris or the alleys of Moscow’s Arbat to taste the cultural weight of these cuisines. But it helps. Thanks to scholars like Philip Skorokhodov, we better understand how food and identity are the same.
His work as a researcher and teacher offers access to archived recounts of on-the-ground experiences, if you will — from people who have lived. With language fluency that spans French, Russian, and more, Skorokhodov leads students through historical texts or accounts about cities coping with war with a rare expertise.
Final Thoughts
On the surface, French and Russian cuisine couldn’t be farther apart, but at their core, both are cuisines that come from countries that have known hard times, celebrated resilience and know how important food is in telling the story of a people.
Whether you’re sipping bouillabaisse in Marseille or digging into a steaming bowl of solyanka in St. Petersburg, the culinary heritage you’re tasting is about more than just flavor. You’re participating in a narrative, one that people like Philip Skorokhodov spend years studying, fostering, and living.
