Moscow Deli

Photo by Joy WeberThey were the punch lines for a generation of funny men: borscht. Beluga. Blintzes. Beet salad. All favorites of the Russian diet, but also B-word standards in the American comic lexicon, so entrenched in standup routines that most people never paused between chortles to consider how the jokes tasted. But if you visit Moscow Deli in Costa Mesa, the meals are delicious reminders of the motherland, the occasion of a hankering for a cuisine borne of hardship, and therefore a rare hankering in this county of plenty.

This is the only Soviet-centric business for the local Russian community, and the three stout women who run the store ensure their creations don't disappoint. Blintzes are chewy, pale pastries, lumpy with either an herbed chicken or a sweet cheese stuffing; the beet salad and beluga pass par.

And there's the borscht: its blinding redness belied by the blandness you'd expect of a beet-and-tomato soup. But it's surprisingly invigorating once you mix in a scoop of sour cream. It reminds me of a soup Mexican mothers force down the sore throats of their children, insisting on its recuperative powers. I'm not sure there's a babushka-abuelita exchange, but my larynx doesn't lie: after slurping up this borscht, I'm blessed with the pipes of angels.

It's no mere delicatessen, however, this Moscow Deli. Produce is the primary reason the doorbell jingles throughout the day. Shelves are stocked with everything from Armenian rose-petal preserves to buttery Slovenian cheese, bubbly Ukrainian apple soda and a funky Georgian caviar—when was the last time you heard about Georgia without a mention of Stalin? You can buy a Cyrillic greeting card for your favorite comrade—no May Day-grams, though. A handwritten sign advertising Russian video rentals hangs above shelves lined with matryoshkas (Russian nesting dolls) of Shaquille O'Neal, the Beatles, even an inoffensive Dubya. Moscow Deli is like a seven-days-a-week perestroika—though the lines are more reminiscent of the Brezhnev era.

In a way, Moscow Deli also functions as an art gallery, thanks to the fantastic packaging of the Red October chocolate label. These sweets are a bit too dark for my tongue, but that's not why you're buying them . A Red October wrapper's design is as intricate as a Fabergé egg, featuring beautiful paintings such as a frolicking family of bears, smiling squirrels and other folkloric Russian icons. No adhesives stick these wrappers together—each is individually hand-folded like an old-time Christmas present. With more than a dozen distinct Red October varieties from which to choose, you'll be singing "The Internationale" for days.

For more food fun, including Orange County's dest damn dining guide and the weekly racist Mexican restaurant logo, visit www.ocweekly.com/food.