The Cold War is over, post-Cold War euphoria is over, and whatever came after that is probably over, too. At first visiting foreigners were exotica, then they were just useful to have around, and now Russians basically couldn't care less whether we exist or not. All those snowy nights of yore, getting tucked illicitly away in apartments and dachas and breathlessly telling tales of life and shopping in the free world -- those days are over, citizen. Russians know more about the West now than you do.


Still, people occasionally get curious, and a question about your life back home gets asked. Sometimes it's when the asker wants to make a point about how much better they do certain things than you.


Take, for example, the consumption of alcohol, which many Russians do indeed do better than you. They will ask you countless scornful questions about your own country's drinking habits, mock its relative temperance or preference for paper umbrellas, and toss it away with the withering gaze of someone who has never had time for such kid stuff.


"I get the impression that in your country, you don't get together and just drink, do you?" they might say. "You just can't sit and drink for hours on end, can you? You can't finish off a bottle and just throw back your head and sing, can you? I mean, you can't lie to your wife about where you're going and straggle back a few days later covered in leaves and cobwebs and not apologize, can you?" And you feel terrible, because those aren't the only things you can't do. You can't even provide the very stuff from which all that passion springs. You can't make your own samogon.


Oh, you might have a cute little brew-it-yourself beer kit at home, but have you ever really felt the sheer power of creating an entire vat of the most potent and foul-tasting aperitif known to humanity? Lots of Russians have, and it's so close to second nature that they didn't even stop to think that you might not do it too.


There are several Russian kitchen tricks that foreigners should learn -- the secret of the mayonnaise-based salad, for example -- but none is more crucial than this. Any foreigner can go out and buy the stuff in a bottle, but the time has come for you to set yourself apart from the crowd. It's a simple maneuver, as these things go, but it's still got the pop-and-fizz thrill of the Little Professor chemistry kit.


Take some yeast and sugar and just add water. Get a little crazy and throw in some cranberries or honey -- it won't make it taste any better, but it just might up your alcohol content. Wait 10 days, if you can stand it. Distill into any leftover jam jars you've got lying around your apartment. Pour and enjoy. It's a hit at parties, not to mention an ecologically pure product.