The Only Peace

"I love this," Valya tells me, smiling and looking at me over her shoulder, "it's quite probably my favourite food in the whole world."
"I don't think I have ever tried it" I tell her and she looks at me shocked.
"What do you mean?" She asks me, "how not?"
"The cooks never made it, I guess" I reply.
She laughs at that, "you wait, Pyotr" she smiles, "you'll enjoy this."
"And why is it your favourite, my love?" I ask her, moving closer and resting my head on her shoulder.
"I'll tell you the story my mother used to tell me about it." She says, turning around to kiss me gently on the lips, "while it bakes, we can go to the sitting room and I'll tell you."

We sit together on the sofa, "So what's the story?" I ask her. 
"My mother used to tell me this story" She begins, taking hold of my hands, "she told me that this was a very special meal, she'd make it on saints feast days and other celebrations. Legend says that the first time this was eaten, it was the only time the three countries ever found peace. The bread is a common food from in all three countries. The sweet honey comes from the south where the warmth allows the bees to thrive. The fish from the North its salt combating the sweetness and bringing balance. And the alcohol was us, a hope of better times to come." 
"A shame the peace never lasted" I say, half to myself rather than to her. 
"It is a shame" She replies, "but the meal remained, and when we eat it we will hope for peace to come again to our land." 
"Maybe I can help bring that about" I tell her and she smiles broadly. 
"Perhaps you will" she replies.