“Igor is teaching her how to make piroshki,” Varya says as she comes to stand by me. “They’re on their third batch.” “Igor speaks only Russian. How can he teach her anything?” “I have no idea. He tells her what to do, and when she does it wrong, he yells.” My head snaps to the side to look at Varya. “He yelled at my wife?” “She yelled at him more.” “What for?” “Well, he yelled because she burned the first batch. She yelled because he didn’t say how long they should stay in the oven. Neither of them knew what the other was yelling about. It was hilarious.”
