From Russia, with Love — Natalie Pavlova's story

“Yes, darling,” I'd say with a thick accent of Julia Child.

He’d kiss me on the forehead, and begin chopping cauliflower like a woodpecker on crack!

Making all these salads for me seemed to be his life's mission.

We met three years ago when I moved to Miami from Moscow. Andrew was a chef at one of the fancy restaurants on South Beach, and I was a struggling model and a waitress in the same restaurant!

He'd cook Mediterranean Shrimp Kabobs or some other fancy dish with local ingredients, while I ran around like a chicken in heat delivering them to VIP tables.

We started as comrades, but soon discovered we had much more in common than our love for sauerkraut.

It was like we'd known each other all our lives. It was like we'd known each other all our lives. I knew it was love when he began feeding me salad after salad like a mother bird.

Soon, we were living together in his apartment overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

We would cook together, eat together and become one as if we were the right ingredients for a great recipe.

I never thought much about my life back in Russia. For what was there to miss? The cold Moscow nights I spent in my tiny room in the communal apartment with three alcoholics arguing all night in the common kitchen?

I come from a family of no means. My parents were Soviet factory workers, and there was nothing very special about me, except that unlike my sister, Sveta, I had no fear!

My all-time favorite film is Doctor Zhivago, and I'm a blubbering mess every time I see it. I always dreamed of eternal love!

My other dream was to get away from my depressing life in Russia!

I wanted to have everything that most people take for granted in the United States: running water, flushing toilets, and a fridge that you don't have to guard.

Living in Moscow, all of my food would be gone by morning because the three alcoholics would finish it up as appetizers while drinking vodka all night in our dirty kitchen.

I daydreamed about other things: being on a movie set, cooking for famous people, having a slice of chocolate cake any time I wanted.

In Russia, I had only one slice of chocolate cake in all of my 22 years of living there.

That was the birthday cake my Mom made for me when I was seven before she died in an alcohol-related accident as she was crossing the street.

I miss you, Mama!

I never thought I'd be able to live out most of my ambitions, but then Andrew came along. And then everything just gushed forth like summer rain...

Andrew was passionate, funny, and charming. His "salad-making obsession" was sexy too!

“I'm going to fix you a different salad tonight,” he’d say every night, smiling from ear to ear like Santa on Christmas morning.

I watched him move around our kitchen with his dark curly hair. He was so handsome.. and kind... and talented....and made my salads!

Every Russian girl would want a lover like that instead of a hapless Russian alcoholic who'd waste weeks attempting to figure out where he can steal a can opener. I had no idea what love was until Andrew came into my life.

I used to be a scrawny duckling in Russia. My nose was like a potato and I had buckteeth. Some boys wanted to be my pal just because I'd let them kiss me, whereas others simply laughed about my teeth being equine!

But Andrew... He saw something special in me that no one else did. Andrew loved me and wanted me as if it were forbidden.

It was Andrew who introduced me to many things I'd never seen before: pink peppercorns, fresh truffles, and potato peelers.

My Mom's biggest dream was to own a microwave… She never got a chance before she was run over by that asshole drunk driver.

I love you, Mom! You would be so proud of me.

Not only do we have a microwave in our kitchen but a washer and dryer too with a gazillion settings that I don't understand, but who cares — we have it!

I wish you could meet my Andrew, Mom. You'd love him. He is nothing like my ex, Russian-alcoholic-boyfriend Sasha.

I know American women believe that Russian ladies come here and steal their men. All I can say is ‘Hah!’ That's a good one. There is plenty of fish for everyone; no need to fight.

There is enough joy in the world to go around. I believe in that as I believe in sunshine, the sky, and leafy green salads.😊 😊 😊

Dear Readers, thank you for reading! Feel free to ask any questions. Special Thanks to Pam Mayer — my tireless friend, editor and collaborator.