“Don’t be hampered by expectations.” This advice was repeated to me by current PCVS and RPCVS throughout my application process to Peace Corps. While I largely succeeded in coming to Ukraine with an open mind, there were certain changes that I didn’t expect to happen to me during my service here.

One of these was an undying fascination, bordering on the perverse, with pechivo. While I love to cook sweets, I hardly partook of them in the States. My tactic was always to bake forty dozen cookies in a fit of stress-management and then roughneck my roommates into eating the lot of ‘em (whatever stress wasn’t relieved by the cooking was exhausted during the roughnecking.)

But then I came to Ukraine, wandered into a store looking for water sans gas and met my destiny. Walls filled with the most fantastical cookies known to man – each wrapped neatly in hundreds of little boxes. My heart burst into song, “That’s the way, uh-huh uh-huh, I like it!”

Unlike my esteemed colleague, I prefer not to re-invent the wheel. My Daily Grade Rubric, as applied to Pechivo:

On-time (1): In moments of desperation, will this pechivo curb emotional upheaval? Would I recommend it to Dr. Sasha as an addition to the Medical Kit?

Participation (4): Pechivo should always be an interactive experience. As much as I relish eating pechivo, it should long to be eaten by me.

English-Only (2): Upon eating the pechivo, do I throw my hands into the air and exclaim: ZOMG KITTENS! followed by an impassioned recitation of Robert Burns’ poems?

Creativity (4): Does the pechivo jive across my palate like an especially glittery episode of Танцювати з Зіркамі?

On Task (1): Do all concerns for the matters of living cease to exist until the pechivo has been duly devoured?

Our Scale

Obviously, we’ve employed wildly different rubrics. To simplify matters, we’re implementing a five star scale for our reviews, as follows:

(*) A Chocolate Potato - Despite high hopes of deliciousness itself, this pechivo tastes like chalky sand. We would not recommend this pechivo to our worst enemy.

(**) A Satisfied Tummy Rub – This pechivo earns itself a respectable tummy rub followed by a slow nod, “Smachno!”

(***) A Double Chin – As we all know, over-indulgence in pechivo is THE ONLY cause of a double chin.

(****) A Double Chin and an Unzip - Like a satisfactory Thanksgiving dinner, consumption of this pechivo causes one to change into sweatpants and take a mid-afternoon nap before the next installment of Cadets.

(*****) A Double Chin and a New Pair of Jeans - The deliciousness factor of this pechivo borders on the dangerous. One taste is never enough and before the reviewer knows what has happened to her, she’ll have to go shopping for a larger pair of jeans.

Although the crumble is important, and appearances matter even more with cookies than they do with men, it's the flavor that dictates the level of gluttony that will be bestowed by me upon a given pechivo. I like chocolate, even more so now that I'm in less wax-laden-chocolate-lands like Ukraine (hello USA, why so much wax that my Hershey's bar can float if carved properly?) Anyway, here's the short-list since my Internet time is cutting into my pechivo petty cash:

Pechivo Rubric:

Appearance (25) -- pechivo at first blush

Texture (15) -- are there too many crumbs in the box?

Size (5) -- it counts, especially with weighed Mahazyn goods

First Taste (10) -- does it give me a Marcel Proustian moment a la madeleine?

Lasting Taste (35) -- would I go out in -40 degree weather for the cookie?

Cost (10) -- we are but volunteers in The Borderland

My ideal pechivo is chocolate in pretention and flavor(that's right faux-chocolate cookies, I'm calling you out!) I like a two-bite-sized cookie with no sticky-ness and limited frills. Next time I'll post about the best-yet in Ukraine, the chocolate swirl bar!