I wanted to go in Vilkovo for three years. It seems to be not far from Odessa, but at the same it takes two miles and the road is not the best. And suddenly it’s just a coincidence. Two free days and an unwillingness to stay at home. So I pulled into the Vilkovo.
And of course, about what food photographer can talk and write? It is natural about food. I set myself a goal – to eat the frogs of Vilkovo. It was the industrial production which ended with the collapse of the Soviet Union and some persons continue it in the form of poaching.
There are two roads from Odessa to Vilkovo. More picturesque is Bugaz road through which I went and greatly regretted it. After Belgorod-Dniester the road turns into the trash. You can’t go on it more than five miles an hour. And this continues for around thirty kilometers, after which you get to the highway Odessa-Reni.
The second way – it’s way through Mayaki on the same route Odessa-Reni. It is quite a tolerable road, moderately loaded with slowly trucker’s drivers, patched holes and monotonous view from the window. Average speed on this track – 80-100 km/h.
Rotate to Vilkovo hides in the village Spasskoye, the road after the village is a little worse route, but you can keep the speed of 100-120 km/h with an almost complete absence of other vehicles.
In general, after two and a half hours, I rode into the village Primorskoye, where it was my first stop.
I phoned to a host of ostrich farm from Odessa. They haven’t guests before, but after a few minutes of our conversation he agreed us to come and to feed us breakfast.
Before I’ve only seen the ostrich in the zoo, so firstly it was excursion. Especially, for my son, it was very interesting.
There are about six or seven ostrich on the courtyard. Except them there are a lot of other different animals. It will be interesting for children.
The excursion on the ostrich farm took about fifteen minutes with the history of the origin of this farm, history of care of the ostriches and history about their nature and characteristics.
In a small, authentic, and cemented from the ashen wood gazebo they brought us our breakfast. Omelet from the ostrich’s eggs, a glass of milk for the child, coffee and a plate of vegetables.
I was so hungry that I realized that I need to take a picture of the very food only when I ate the half of the omelet.
The taste of the ostrich egg omelet is fatter than the chicken omelet. That’s all difference from the classic chicken omelet for us. But vegetables pleased me. Fresh, homemade. With the expressed taste. The vegetables pleased us for the whole trip. I even forgot about our vegetables.
Coming out of an ostrich farm, just after a few houses we saw Brynzarium. Yes, that is how it was written.
In our country, not so many different small farms open for tourists, so they must be supported.
The owners were asleep. I went into the empty courtyard where there were lazy sleeping wolfhound, lama and ducks. Ukrainian fiesta.
We had to awake owners with the help of the phone number that was listed on the label near the entrance where a strange kind of an donkey protected a place.
In the range of Brynzarium was goat’s and cow’s milk, and of course goat’s and cow’s bryndza.
You know, after years of drinking pasteurized milk, this milk was incomparable. I ordered a few liters of goat’s milk, and we drank it while sitting in the arbor, overgrown with roses and surrounded by young apple trees. My son drank milk most.
The hosts brought us the bryndza to taste . It was tasty, moderately juicy and moderately salty.
They sell it in buckets like from the paint in the hardware store. The bucket is so closed that the contents will remain in place even if you will stir it up or overturn.
I am very pleased that we have some small farms like these, or rather not so. I’m glad that small farms open their doors to tourists and ennoble their territory. Maybe it is still awkward, but with a smile and a welcome.
Well, I continued my journey to Vilkovo, where the dinner of frogs, a motor boat and a sunset on the beach near the Romanian border were waiting me.