Array of Food Boggles the Minds of Soviet Chefs

Five master chefs from the Soviet republic of Georgia went prowling through a lavish new supermarket in La Jolla on Thursday morning. They appeared mesmerized by a store that offered under one roof not only cilantro, lamb chops and pomegranates as big as softballs, but also padlocks, panty hose and cat food.

“Cat food?” chief chef Georgi Gorgodze asked in amazement. “We have an altogether different problem in the Soviet Union . . . we have trouble feeding people.”

“We have that one here, too,” someone muttered quietly.

Moments later, Gorgodze flashed an awe-struck expression and allowed as how the crush of television, radio and newspaper reporters--who followed him around as if he held every secret between the superpowers--was what impressed him most.

In La Jolla on Thursday morning, no one could dispute that glasnost had produced a rare side effect: It had taken five chefs and, for a while, made them celebrities.

“Is it always this way?” Gorgodze asked incredulously, as the lights from the minicams glowed in his eyes.

A woman doing her regular shopping tossed a box of Cocoa Puffs over her baby’s head and asked in a loud voice: “Is Gorbachev shopping at Big Bear today?”

No, it only looked that way.

The chefs “bought” $227 worth of groceries (courtesy of Big Bear) for a special meal being prepared in connection with the Soviet arts festival. “The Night of the Chefs” is a promotional event sponsored by a radio station. The chefs will feed 95 people Sunday night at a Piret’s restaurant in La Jolla.

So, the Soviet five went shopping for ingredients Thursday morning and, Yankee bravado aside, it was not entirely like watching kids set loose in a toy store. As one chef pointed out, even if we do have live catfish and videotape at our grocery stores, we don’t have sour plum sauce.

Still, it was the first time that most of these men had been turned loose in an American market, much less on somebody else’s money. And it is unequivocally true, they said--not even Lenin’s ghost will dispute it--that markets like ours exist nowhere in the Soviet Union.

Gorgodze, who speaks English well, gazed at the rows of canned goods and produce and said: “Very great difference between here and the Soviet Union. So much quality, so much choice . . . if anything, you people have too many choices, too much food.”

He shook his head and offered a wry grin.

“Such an abundance,” he said.

Piret Munger, the local restaurateur who has acted as host for the chefs during their three-week visit, said a trip to a supermarket was “an extraordinary experience” for the Georgians and would be for any Soviet. She said the chefs are used to buying whole chickens in open-air markets, where the poultry dangles from hooks, under a blazing sun, sometimes for days.

The chefs marveled at American methods of packaging and stocking products. A La Jollan named Alex, who asked that his surname not be published, said he moved from the Ukraine 35 years ago but returns to the Soviet Union for periodic visits.

“This is like paradise to these men. They cannot believe it,” he said.

But, as Gorgodze pointed out, Georgians who look hard enough will eventually find everything they need to make eggplant with walnuts, caviar with eggs, smoked cheese, chicken consomme and “rock” of lamb.

“But I swear,” he said, “never will we have so many cameras follow us to the market. This is a first. I can’t wait to tell my kids.”