Olia Hercules on Food, Family, and Ukrainian Resilience

The Ukrainian author behind ‘Home Food’ talks about the power of food and its beautiful ability to unite us—even amongst conflict.

Olia Hercules | Photo by Joe Woodhouse
Olia Hercules | Photo by Joe Woodhouse
Welcome to Recipes to Remember, a collection of passed-down recipes that remind us to gather around the table, share a meal prepared with our own hands—or, perhaps even better, the hands of our loved ones—and simply enjoy each other’s company. As the holiday season arrives, let’s try new-to-us recipes and make lasting memories along the way.

After Russia invaded Ukraine, Olia Hercules thought about memory and preservation—among many other things as conflict escalated in her home country. The author and cook sprung into action. She raised money to send bullet-proof vests to volunteers in Ukraine and, alongside food writer Alissa Timoshkina established #CookForUkraine, a global supper club through which restaurants and cooks donated funds for the war-torn country.

See, for Hercules, cooking is more than the mere preparation of a meal. It’s about supporting each other. Connecting with people, channeling comfort and warmth, sifting through memories associated with different dishes—this is the power of food.

Whether she is forming the dough for varenyky and reflecting on her childhood or whipping up borscht for her sons, every ingredient holds weight and meaning. In her latest cookbook Home Food, Hercules delves into the significance of food and its ability to share and preserve cultures, especially those less explored, featuring recipes from her husband, neighbors, and fellow chefs.

We spoke to Hercules about passed-down recipes, home-cooked meals, and how food, even in the most tumultuous situations, unites us.

Thrillist: What made you want to put this cookbook together?
Olia Hercules: I always thought of myself as more of an anthropological discoverer, not just a cook. I’m used to telling other people’s stories and histories, and during the pandemic, I feel like I became more observant, and that’s when I smelled linden tree blossoms, and they reminded me of Ukraine. After that, I wrote the first essay in the book; stuff just started pouring out of me.

At first, [the book] was supposed to be a simple collection of family recipes, but I also have these essays about connection. It felt to me it didn't really matter where you are from and where you ended up. I grew up in Ukraine, then I lived in Cyprus, then I went to Italy, then I ended up here [in London].

With food, when you talk about it or even share food together there’s just some magic that happens because it's such an elemental thing that everybody does. It’s a nice point where different cultures can actually understand each other quite well.

Vegetable Gratin Balkan-Style
Vegetable Gratin Balkan-Style | Photo by Joe Woodhouse

In your book, you write: “We all have so much more in common than what divides us, and good food and good stories are universal.” Why is food such a unifying factor in our lives?
We need food to live; it’s something everybody does. Certain foods can take you back to feeling like a child, when you were a little bit less burdened by the world. It’s this thing we all have in common, these moments that translate into so many cultures. There’s a recipe where chef Jeremy Lee talks about his lentil soup, and he says “Sometimes, when I eat it, I feel my grandmother’s hand on my shoulder.” It’s all so intertwined.

I think food has always been political, but not necessarily in the sense of who it belongs to. Food is about identity. I think especially now, in the face of this genocide that’s happening with the Ukrainian people, and Russia just wanting to completely obliterate us, obliterate our language, our culture, and with it, our food. It’s becoming more and more acute.

One of my dreams now is to document dishes from each region of Ukraine. With so many cities being razed to the ground and people being deported, I just want to record those recipes that might disappear or that haven’t had that much attention, to delve into the regionality of things and talk to people who still remember all of those recipes. For both Ukrainians and people all over the world, to not let them erase us.

Olia Hercules with her family
Olia Hercules with her family | Photo by Joe Woodhouse

Your book features recipes by other people, like your husband and fellow chefs. What made you want to include those recipes?
In my cooking life, I don’t just cook Ukrainian food; I make friends’ recipes as well. I like telling my story and my family story, but the cookbook was also a way for me to include other people’s stories. One of the most important and interesting things to me is to shine the light of where I got certain recipes from and tell that person’s story.

For example, there’s Barb’s Bengali chicken [from] my neighbor Barb. During the pandemic, I had just given birth and it was kind of a weird and uncertain time. We had just moved. And then Barb suddenly just started coming over with this amazing Bengali food. One was this really spicy kind of roast Bengali chicken. At some point, I was like, “Barb, would you teach me this?” We actually became friends—there was this little bit of connection. I’m surrounded by these incredible people who have been so generous, and we’ve been exchanging food. It's really nice to resurrect that feeling of community, especially living in a big city.

Peanut and Dulce de Leche Cake
Peanut and Dulce de Leche Cake | Photo by Joe Woodhouse

What was your favorite meal your mother made growing up?
She would make these varenyky dumplings, which were in a triangular shape. One day, I came back from school, and I was so sad, and I can’t remember what happened, but I remember I was like, “All I need in my life is these dumplings to make me feel better,” and she made them, and I’ll never forget it. It’s definitely my last-day-on-earth meal, especially if it can be made by my mom because she makes them in a really special way; she makes the cheese herself. And then you serve the dumplings with loads of butter and sour cream. I’m drooling just thinking about them now. I need to make them, but I know they are not going to be the same as my mom’s.

What do you hope people take away from your cookbook?
I hope that people find themselves in it, that they can relate and start to pay attention to those little moments, to actually kind of pause and really enjoy them. And maybe to get inspired to cook something for their neighbor or talk to their grandparents and jot some recipes down. Also to feel a little bit more connected to everyone. There’s so much division right now; we often forget that actually there are things that we have in common. And you know, even just with your neighbors, maybe it’s worth taking a little cake over and seeing if some kind of a nice relationship comes out of that, and if they’re from a different country then that’s all for the better. Maybe they’ll teach you how to make an amazing Bengali chicken.

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Kelsey Allen is an editorial assistant at Thrillist.