
Let’s face facts: dill has a bad reputation. Lacking the romance of basil or the sophistication of rosemary, this sweet, pungent herb will be familiar to anyone who’s eaten a pickle, or maybe tried gravlax. In the West, its usage stops about there.
But you only have to venture into the Slavic world to witness dill in all its glory, taking its role as the stalwart herb of eastern Europe very seriously. Slavic cuisine is multinational. For example, you might know the soup “borscht”, but what you’ve tasted will only be a version of it. Russia has its own; Ukraine has its own; as do Belarus, Poland and many other countries, each fiercely proud and protective of it. I’m half-Russian, with family in Belarus, so my frame of reference lies there. (I’m sure other countries are also guilty of what I’m about to describe – but I have no wish to offend anyone in the process by lumping all Slavic cuisines into one.)