Siberian Express Dreams - Eating Aboard

Eating aboard the trains was an experience that added a unique flavor to our journey. While dining cars were generally available, many passengers, particularly Russians and younger Europeans on a budget, opted to bring their own provisions. The coal-fired samovar at the end of each car, tended by the provinista, served as a constant source of hot, potable water.

Inside the cabins, we often found tables lined with: Tea bags Instant coffee Dried noodle packages Spoons, forks, and an assortment of bowls and cups

At most stops, passengers would leap off the train for a quick smoke—absolutely forbidden on the train—and make a dash to the trackside shops to replenish their ramen supply or grab some soft drinks or bottled water. Even late at night, independent vendors stood by the train doors, offering homemade sausages, dried meats, smoked fish, and other substantial foods.

Our provinistas could usually be counted on to have a stash of candy bars, chips, and ramen. Pricing varied based on supply, demand, and overhead:

• Independent vendors tended to be the cheapest, as they did not compete directly with the shops.
• The shops fell in the middle of the pricing spectrum.
• The provinistas were the most expensive but often the only choice available.

Pro tip: The provinistas would gladly brew tea or coffee for those without cups or tea bags, charging only 30 cents US per cup.

Dining Cars and Cuisine

The trains we traveled on were either Russian or Chinese. However, the dining cars reflected the country we were in. For example:

• Crossing Russia on a Russian train meant we had a Russian dining car.
• Our second-class train from Ulan Bator to the Chinese border featured a Mongolian dining car.

Interestingly, there was no dining car on the first part of the Mongolian trip from the Russian border to Ulan Bator, as we entered after midnight and arrived at 5:40 in the morning. When we boarded the train to Beijing, we not only changed wheels but also dining cars, switching to a Chinese version.

Without bags of provisions and utensils, we walked through the train to the dining car for our meals, which we had planned to do anyway. On our first morning, we made an important discovery: the cook and waitress slept on the floor or tables during the night.

We tip-toed out and returned an hour later. The same scenario played out on our second train, but they were bedded down towards the other end, so we quietly read until they stirred.

The menus were sometimes illustrated and always in at least two languages, with English being the default second tongue. However, just because a dish was listed on the menu didn’t guarantee it was available.

In fact, with so few people in the dining cars—we often dined alone—I was surprised that we had any choices instead of simply “today’s plate.” The offerings tended toward the bland; while not memorable, they weren’t bad either.

Certainly, they were reasonably priced, and this was also where we found a varied supply of cold beer, along with bottles of wine in some dining cars. For instance, we enjoyed a serviceable bottle of Bordeaux in the Mongolian diner for about $8 US.

Dining Car Atmosphere

The ambiance of the dining cars varied significantly:

• The Russian dining car favored dark red and gold, with drapes and complementary booths for four.
• The Chinese car was also red but more sleek (or stark), with staff often taking over a booth to total receipts and complete paperwork.
• The Mongolian dining car was a delight of hand-carved wood, paintings, and a few antique artifacts.

One memorable glitch occurred when we sat for seven hours on a siding in Mongolia. I stepped off the train, looking up and down the track, only to find that all that was there was our car and the dining car.

Later, we felt a jerk and assumed they were adding more cars to prepare for the next haul. We decided to stroll down to the dining car for lunch and maybe a beer.

As we walked down the aisle, through the door to the connecting section, we stood stunned: the dining car was gone. It was just us, one solitary train car, stuck on a siding somewhere in Mongolia.

Several hours later, other cars, including the diner, were attached, and we were moving again.