I have fairy-tale memories about my childhood in Siberia Far East. My father caught wild salmon by buckets and then smoked it himself. We went on family picnicks, berries and mushroom harvest to majestic dark forests. We had a barrel of sauerkraut, a barrel of pickles, a barrel of pickled mushrooms, which my father prepared in the fall.
He was a Russian Siberian, his ancestors were sent there from Poland by Tsar. Not only they learned how to survive in the harsh climate, where winter starts in October and lasts till the end of May. They were healthy and lived long, some of my ancestors died at 111 and 114 years old.