A trademark of life under the Soviet regime, communal flats began to appear right after the revolution in 1917, when the rich citizens residing in large-scale apartments were either kicked out, or forced to give up most  of their rooms for the working families that local officials allowed in. To find housing for everyone, the big rooms were divided up to make smaller ones, and as a result, a whole lot of people ended up living in one flat, sharing a kitchen and bathroom. Most of the city's population lived in such conditions until the building of new apartment houses began in the 1950s, yet some communal flats remained until the 1990s. While living in such a commune involved various hardships for lodgers, it was also a certain lifestyle that people got used to and tried to make as comfortable as they could. The owners tried to grasp the essence of this past life, this atmosphere of “one big crazy family,” and recreated it at their new restaurant.

By the entrance to Communal Flat, or Comunalka, you are welcomed by a buffet-bar with tall round tables and chairs. Designer-decorated toilet seats hanging on the wall on your left indicate the entrance to the toilet.

The corridor leads on forward – doors to various rooms (most meant for personnel) are on each side, a couple of push-cycles are attached to the wall – just like the various belongings of tenants standing in a common corridor in a communal flat. Finally, you find yourself in two big adjoining rooms – the main dining area. First, pick your table and place your bag and coat, and then take some time to look around. Various artifacts of everyday life in the former Soviet Union create a cute chaos, bringing back memories to those who have been though commune life. The walls are partly brickwork, partly covered with several strips of wallpapers of different patterns, referring to the worn look communal flats often had. There is a piano, an old metal fridge tied with red ribbon, black-and-white family photographs, carpets hanging on the walls, a collection of alarm clocks of Soviet produce, a portrait of poet Serhiy Yesenin and a bust – surprisingly, not of Lenin, but Ukraine’s main poet Taras Shevchenko! It was peasant to see that the decorators chose not to display anything related directly to the Soviet State – no flags, no Lenin and no red pioneer scarves – just bits of common life as it was. The sweetest part of Communal Flat is a small room with a round table, a giant radio and a vintage bed covered with toys and designer pillows by Gapchinska, whose art gallery is located nearby.

In the same chaotic style, some shabby-looking tables are covered with table-cloths, some – aren’t, and chairs conceptually don’t match.

A tall, broad-shouldered waiter with somewhat rough though pleasant features – the type that could play a heartthrob tractor driver in a Soviet comedy from the 1950s (he was wearing a hip cap from this era) – laid the menus in front of us. They were made in the form of a newspaper, printed in Russian and English, featuring the pictures of the owners, Kim and Sichkar, on the cover. The menu was quite long,  one half dedicated to common Soviet offerings (though featuring an onion soup, among other things) and the second half – “Bourgeois Dishes,” including sushi, pasta and traditional European meals like duck leg with cranberry sauce (Hr 119) and tuna with asparagus (Hr 120). As we struggled with the wide selection – I was trying to pick a nice combination of “foreign” and Soviet cuisine, the waiter came to tell us that since the restaurant opened just recently, a lot of dishes weren’t available – mostly those from the “foreign” section. So I had no choice but to make my dinner entirely Soviet-style. Choosing between things like radish carpaccio, salted herring, Olivier salad, fried potatoes with bacon and onions (Hr 36,46) and Friendship plov (Hr 52,24), I finally decided on Lenin Diet mushroom soup (Hr 38,20) and Genplan veal tongue with cheese (Hr 65,25). Sipping on mulled wine (Hr 40.75) and waiting for the food to arrive, my friend and I were entertained by the classical comedy “12 Chairs,” showing on two big TV screens, and the faint singing of Car-Men – a Russian Perestroika-era pop group, coming from a different room.

The soup arrived extremely hot and generously filled with various wild mushrooms – if it was indeed Lenin’s choice, he certainly had good taste. My second course of veal tongue turned out to be little sacks of pancakes filled with finely chopped tongue and mushrooms covered with melted cheese. They were not bad, but the filling fell out as soon as you cut the pancake in two, and it was not what I expected at all – it didn’t say anything about pancakes in the description of the dish. On the other hand, my friend’s General’s Manty (oriental dumplings) for Hr 62 were excellent, their spiciness softened by sour cream served as a sauce.

When it came to desserts, it turned out that only two of them were being  offered, and we took them both. One of them, an Oriental-style apple (Hr 35,15) filled with walnuts, prunes and dried apricots was a truly healthy dessert, but not being a fan of dried fruit, I couldn’t really enjoy it. Cherry strudel (Hr 35, 12), on the other hand, was wonderful, with juicy sour-sweet berries, thin layered pastry and aromatic vanilla ice cream (Hr 35,15). Finishing my big latte (Hr 15), I thought the place should gain popularity really soon – those nostalgic for the Soviet past as well as those curious about what it was like will fill Comunalka before long, so the kitchen should hurry up and adjust to match the menu.

Comunalnaya Kvartira (13 Tolstoho, 451-4057). Open 11 a.m. till 11 p.m.

English menu: Yes

English-speaking staff: Yes

Average meal: Hr 150