In the autumn of 2014, I was on a business trip in Moscow. As the Russian capital transitioned into early winter, I expected cooler nights but relatively warm days. However, by mid-October, the daytime highs began dropping steadily alongside intermittent rains. Within days, overnight temperatures plummeted toward freezing. By October 18, winter arrived early; the best parts of the day remained entirely sub-zero, bringing an early evening frost.
Despite the freezing weather, a large group of friends from South, Southeast, and Central Asian countries decided to dine alfresco. Braving the frost, we secured a spot at Kishmish—a now-defunct, famous Central Asian eatery on Moscow’s Novy Arbat Avenue.
Moscow’s futuristic, wide thoroughfare contrasts sharply with the quaint, historic Old Arbat running parallel to it. While we comfortably walked along the wide sidewalks of the avenue to reach our dining spot that evening, Novy Arbat does not offer the car-free, leisurely promenade experience found on Old Arbat. Developed in the 1960s as a showcase of Soviet modernism, Novy Arbat—literally meaning the "New Arbat"—is famous for its iconic "Book Houses" architecture, neon lights, massive digital billboards, and a lively dining and nightlife scene. Lined with huge apartment buildings, this shoppers' thoroughfare is filled with elegant boutiques, fashionable bars, and shopping malls.
As we stepped inside Kishmish, I felt as if I were transitioning into an old Uzbek town. The restaurant featured vaulted, cavern-style interiors, colorful lighting, plush cushions, handmade carpets, traditional tapestries, and an open terrace facing the pedestrian street.
Learning recently that this iconic spot ceased operations just a few years after my visit instantly brought back fond memories of that vibrant evening, where we wined and dined to our hearts' content. Even before we sat down, the rustic, textured stone walls—resembling a cave-like stone tavern—were completely mesmerizing.
I had never been to an eatery with such out-of-the-world aesthetics. Located not far from the Smolenskaya metro station, Kishmish was legendary in its heyday for its vibrant Uzbek style, intricately carved wood accents, and mouthwatering delicacies. I can still taste the traditional Uzbek plov, hot shashlik skewers, chebureki (crispy crescent-shaped deep-fried turnover stuffed with seasoned, juicy meat filling), flatbreads, and tea served in classic piyalas.
To keep the freezing cold at bay, our large group shared a generous cask-aged Russkoe Zoloto (Russian Gold) vodka, a premium local choice produced from wheat and rye infusions. The Uzbek plov was the undisputed king of the table that night. In Uzbek or Tashkent plov the ingredients are layered sequentially in a kazan (a heavy cast-iron cauldron) and not stirred until the very end. It features tender chunks of lamb or beef, sweet yellow carrots, whole bulbs of roasted garlic, and chickpeas. It is deeply savory, intensely aromatic, and often garnished with quail eggs and slices of kazy (horsemeat sausage).
We were served massive platters of slow-cooked rice layered with tender beef, yellow carrots, whole garlic bulbs, cumin, and barberries. We also feasted on manty—large, thin-dough steamed dumplings filled with spiced chopped lamb and onions, served with a side of sour cream—and skewers of shashlik, featuring marinated cubes of meat grilled over hot coals and served over flatbread with pickled onions.
I fondly recall seeing the menu's samsas—flaky, triangular baked pastries filled with minced meat, onions, and tail fat cooked inside a clay tandoor oven—though, after all these years, I can no longer remember if we actually ordered them that night.
Apart from the dinner at Kishmish, I thoroughly enjoyed catching glimpses of the iconic old and new establishments on both sides of Novy Arbat Avenue. The distinctive Soviet modernist high-rises lining the avenue are well-known landmarks, often referred to as the "Book Houses" due to their unique V-shaped design. The southern side of Novy Arbat is dominated by these four massive, 26-story skyscrapers built to resemble open books. Today, they house apartments, offices, hotels, and retail spaces, serving as a massive canvas for dynamic light shows and media projections at night.
In stark contrast, the early 17th-century Church of Saint Simeon Stylites sits tucked right at the beginning of the hyper-modern avenue, near the intersection with the Boulevard Ring. Looking remarkably out of place among the towering Soviet-era skyscrapers, it is one of the most unique photo spots in Moscow.
The stunning little church stands as a perfect epitome of Russian Uzorochie (Russian ornament) architecture. Though dwarfed by the modern skyscrapers in its immediate vicinity, one cannot miss the church, which is highly recognizable for its white stone walls, rows of decorative kokoshnik arches, emerald-green domes, and an attached tent-roofed bell tower. In Russian architecture, a kokoshnik is a semicircular or keel-like (pointed) exterior decorative corbel arch. Named after the traditional, crest-shaped Russian women's headdress (kokoshnik), this feature is one of the most distinctive hallmarks of old Russian church architecture.
Nearby, the flagship outlet of Russia’s largest bookstore chain, The Moscow House of Books, also anchors the avenue. The entire neighborhood remains dotted with retro and Soviet-themed dining classics. Alas, Kishmish has long been shuttered.
