"Grandma's Easter cakes were cooling on the bed under the pillows." How housewives in the Lyubansky district prepared for Easter 

Hidden away in the center of the village of Zhorovka in the Lyuban District is an unusual log cabin. Externally, it's not much different from its neighbors: decorated window frames, carved side ledges, a small attic window, a gable roof... But come closer, and you're enveloped from head to toe in the aroma of fresh bread. It's baked by Irina Zhudrik, head of the Zhorovka House of Folk Traditions. In her family, baking secrets have been passed down from generation to generation for over a hundred years. Ahead of Orthodox Easter, BELTA correspondents visited her to learn how the villagers prepare for the celebration of the Resurrection of Christ and to learn the secrets of baking the famous kulita, which has been designated a historical and cultural treasure since 2020.

"An egg and a piece of pie were kept until Trinity Sunday."

We find Irina Zhudrik, the manager of the Zhorovsky House of Folk Traditions, at her usual work station – by a genuine Russian stove, where the logs are already crackling. Nearby, on a bench, dough for kulitki (as bread is called locally) awaits its turn in a wooden bowl. Upon learning that we're interested in the secrets of making not only bread but also Easter kulichi, the owner explains that she prefers to work with sourdough. But she agrees to share the traditions that her grandmother followed.
"It's believed that Easter pies should be baked on Maundy Thursday. But we also did it on Friday and even Saturday, depending on our schedule. We also dyed the eggs then . We started by making the dough: yeast, warm milk , and flour . Then, while kneading it, we added the eggs, margarine, and raisins. Once the pies had risen, they had to be beaten and kneaded. This was repeated several times. Then, they were placed in molds and left to rest for a while. Pies need less time than kulichi. If the bread sits in the oven for an hour and a half, forty minutes is enough for kulichi," the housewife is confident.
It would seem that the pie is ready, meaning the work is done. But in reality, everything is much more complicated, explains Irina Mikhailovna. Removing the Easter pie from the oven is only half the battle. It's important to cool it properly. In her family, this process took place in a special way: “Someone might take out the pies and simply leave them to cool on a towel. But my grandmother also did it this way: she would put them right in the pans on the bed and put pillows around them so that they would languish in the warmth and cool under the pillows. They were usually cut only after the All-Night Vigil. In our village of Kuzmichi, where we come from, there was no church, so we arranged things like this: once the service was over and everything was blessed, you could sit down at the table . And in the morning, I remember, my mother always did this: she would pour water into a bowl, put a red egg in it and let everyone wash themselves with this water - so that they would be healthy, round and pink.”
EggThis, along with a piece of Easter cake, was supposed to be kept until Trinity Sunday. It was believed that whoever ate this cake and rolled out the egg on the appointed day would be lucky enough to find Paparats-kvetka on Kupala. Irina Mikhailovna doesn't know exactly how to roll it out: she wasn't told such details as a child, and when she grew older and became interested, there was no one to ask.

"I've never used scales: I do everything by eye."

As for the bread recipe that Irina Zhudrik agreed to make in front of us, it's unique in every sense: our heroine's grandmother used it, then her mother. In total, Irina Mikhailovna's family has been making this bread for over a hundred years. The taste of Zhorovskaya kulitka is known not only throughout Belarus but also far beyond its borders. She has visited a wide variety of cities and countries: from Ufa to Sri Lanka, and recently went to Italy. When asked if it will spoil along the way, the hostess merely smiles: real bread has no expiration date. It may dry out and become stale over time, but it will never become moldy!
Time flies as they chat – the wood has burned down, the stove has warmed up, and now it's time to begin the most interesting part. First, the hostess places the frying pans on the coals and fills a basin with water, into which she will dip her hands to prevent the dough from sticking. Irina Mikhailovna has never used scales: she does everything, as they say, by eye.

"We can measure out every ingredient down to the gram, but the bread will still be different every time. Even if the dough comes from the same pan but is mixed in different containers, it will still be different. The oven, the stove, the wood—absolutely everything affects the taste," explains our heroine. "It's the same with canned bread: I never follow a written recipe or use scales. I stir it, taste it, and add what's missing."
As they say, storytelling doesn't get in the way of work. While I listen attentively to the hostess's advice, taking notes, she, with precise movements, repeatedly scoops out the required amount of dough, forms small oblong loaves, places them in preheated pans greased with lard, and then, crossing them over, slides them into the oven. The whole process takes about five minutes at most. From the outside, it all seems simple. In reality, the bread-making process is much longer and more painstaking. To bake bread in the morning, a housewife begins work in the evening, and in winter, sometimes even a day or two before—that's how long the starter takes to rise. Irina Mikhailovna uses two, three, or even four types of flour. But she always kneads the dough with premium flour and leaves it in a warm place for several hours to rise. Only then can the bread be baked.
Housewives always strictly ensured that no one entered the house while the kulitki were being baked. They believed that such a person would deprive the family of their well-being. Borrowing sourdough from housewives was also unacceptable. It was believed that it absorbed the atmosphere of the house. And not everyone was allowed to borrow bread. Other beliefs connected with this product were also related to Irina Mikhailovna's grandmother. For example, while the dough was rising, it was forbidden to make noise or argue. Sitting on the stove while the bread was baking was strictly prohibited, to prevent the loaves from turning out flat. "When the children were little, we baked more than just bread. We often made things with yeast dough, too. We'd make buns, waffles, and all sorts of braids. And at one time, colorful baked goods were fashionable. We'd add beetroot juice to the dough to make it pink, then roll it out super-thin, squeeze it out with a glass, and drop it into boiling oil . The result was little roses, but to make them, you had to spend seven hours in the kitchen," the hostess recalls.

"We're not just about bread."
While our loaves bake in the oven, Irina Mikhailovna tells the story of the log house under whose roof we're standing: "This hut has a very rich and interesting past; it's always been hospitable. During the war, there was a school here. Later, Grandfather Roman, who lived here, was the first in the village to get a television, and people would come to watch. And then we moved in too. In short, there's always a constant stream of guests here."

When the decision was made to open a House of Folk Traditions here, the building was renovated, the walls were removed, and the old wallpaper was stripped. The oven was also rebuilt, after which Irina Mikhailovna was finally able to realize her long-held dream: she revived the process of bread-baking, which had become a true hallmark of the Lyuban district, and began teaching it to anyone interested. In the evenings, homemakers began gathering here to try out new recipes and share their experiences with Irina Mikhailovna. Thus, the "Kulitka" club of folk bakery enthusiasts was born.
Today, the House of Folk Traditions is known beyond the Lyuban district primarily for its unique, centuries-old recipes, one of which is designated a historical and cultural treasure. It's no surprise that online, this place is often referred to as a bread museum or simply the Zhorovskaya Bakery. But Irina Mikhailovna doesn't entirely agree with this "naming." "We are more than just bread. We are a home to folk traditions. I love our Belarusian customs and strive to preserve them as they are. We didn't create these traditions, and it's not our place to change them—we have no right to do so. But we must preserve them," she asserts.

If you look closely, this place truly does resemble a museum, not of bread, but rather of Belarusian everyday life. Wherever you look, your eye is immediately drawn to something authentic: clay pots, painted carpets, and even antique chests. Woven tablecloths cover the tables, and stunningly beautiful pillows and bedspreads cover the beds. Many of these items were scavenged by cultural workers from abandoned houses slated for demolition.
They collect not only household items but also stories. Although this process, our heroine admits, is often challenging.

"Sometimes it happens that you go to an old woman and start asking her about something, but she doesn't remember. It can take half a day to get an elderly person to talk. And even after that, he can name one or two lines of a song - and that's it. And after a couple of days he remembers - and only then he calls us. It happens in all sorts of ways. But when the conversation begins, the stories cling to one another: from birth and baptism to weddings and funerals. Moreover, it can happen that the distance between two villages is only a kilometer, but the customs will be completely different. During the farewell ceremony for the army alone, there were so many rituals that you can't even count them! Everything was important: how to seat the soldier at the table, and how to lead him out. To return home, they cut his hair and then hid it behind icons, and gave him a certain number of handkerchiefs in his hand, which had to be scattered in certain places. And we asked our "Grandmothers," Irina Mikhailovna says of how preserving rituals inspired her.

"As far back as I can remember, our family has always baked kulitki."

Irina Zhudrik herself is also from the Lyuban district, but from a different village, Kuzmichi. She moved to Zhorovka to be with her husband and got a job as a salesperson. But her heart was set on another endeavor. So, our heroine decided to take a risk: at 40, she quit her previous job, got a job at the House of Culture, and simultaneously enrolled in the correspondence department at the Mogilev State College of Arts. She admits it was difficult: she saw her son off to the army in the evening, and then rushed to exams in the morning. She left behind her husband, a son who was graduating, and a large household. But our heroine does not regret this choice.

"I couldn't live without my job. I love it very much," she explains her decision briefly but succinctly.
"And how did it happen that you started baking bread at the House of Folk Traditions?" - I ask my interlocutor.
"It didn't work out that way; it was always with me. I grew up with it. For as long as I can remember, our family always baked kulitki. Even when I was very little, I was always next to my mother. She'd knead the bread in the trough, and I'd run around – it was so interesting! I'd add more flour, or try some raw dough. And when I got older, my mother would bake the bread and tell me to take it out of the oven when the clock hand reached the right number. And I'd watch it, never leaving the house, because if the bread burned, they'd tear it apart in the evening," the heroine notes with a smile. On the day of our visit, this important task – keeping an eye on the clock – was entrusted to the guests. As soon as the timer
on the phone went off , we called out to the hostess: it's time to take out the bread – and we moved closer to the oven to take a photo. But Irina Mikhailovna stops us: "No time. Let it bake for another ten minutes. And when it smells, we'll take it out," she explains, and tells us about her favorite childhood dish: "We cut off a slice of bread, dipped it in a bucket of water, and then in a bag of sugar. With such a treat, you're everyone's friend and master on the street. Everyone takes a bite – and the slice is gone. And someone else is already rushing home." When Irina Mikhailovna finishes her story, an incomparable aroma spreads through the hut. A couple of minutes – and our loaves are already cooling. Beautiful, smooth, with a golden-brown side – we try them before they've cooled properly. People are right when they say there's nothing tastier than fresh bread from the oven. Yulia GAVRILENKO, photo by Tatyana MATUSEVICH, BELTA.