Pierogies, Rabbit Stew, & Stroganoff at Hong Kong’s First Ukrainian Restaurant

Pushing 23 years in the Hong Kong food and beverage scene, Ivan the Kozak was (and still is) a much-needed answer to an established (and burgeoning at the same time?) food scene that has always oddly lacked Eastern European fare. Serving up Ukrainian classics like potato and mushroom pierogies, borscht (Ukrainian borscht to emphasize – typically made with pork rather than beef), and even veal casseroles, Ivan the Kozak has remained steadfast in providing Ukrainian warmth and comfort in pleated dough form – which unsurprisingly, is why it is one of my favorite restaurants in all of Hong Kong.

Oh, and there’s vodka. Lots and lots of vodka. Tried and tested by yours truly. That always helps. Except for the three bottles of vodka I drank with my best friend, an elderly Ukrainian woman, and a Russian busboy on my 29th birthday in Vienna, which led to me projectile vomiting all over the Hofburg Palace (I’ve mentioned this in other posts on the site).

My history with Ivan the Kozak spans all the way back to 2012, when it was located under the Mid-Levels escalator (just below Hollywood Road), with their walk-in ice bar directly to your right upon entering. Remember? Back when Cochrane’s was the go-to post-work place to pull up for a pint and some peanuts. It was one of the first date spots I patronized in Hong Kong and was there at the beginning of a memorable relationship, so there is always a nostalgia and indebtedness I have to it.

Here’s a little bit about why I love this restaurant and what you can expect when you show up.

The Eastern European Gastronomic Landscape in Hong Kong

• Website, Address, & Details:https://www.ivanthekozak.com.hk/
  • Address: Central, Wyndham St, 63號, Parekh House, 1樓
  • Price: $$-$$$

One thing that I always find strange about Eastern European cuisine in Hong Kong is that like its political and demographic landscape, it is highly factionalized. Then again, if “us vs. them” has been shoved down your throat since the ‘97 Handover, it’s actually not that surprising that the city is as demographically fragmented as it is with various groups pitted against one another like Obi-Wan and Darth. 

And it seems to spill over into almost every facet of the quotidian banalities and necessities that afflict us all. In the context of Eastern European grub in Hong Kong, you either encounter die-hard Dacha-ites or Ivan the Kozak enthusiasts. “Lord, why can’t I be both?” I scream and shake my fists at the sky. “My son, you can. These are mere parameters set forth by fallible man that, unlike my Ten Commandments, need not be followed rigorously.” “R-r-r-really?” I stumble, failing to fully comprehend this new revelation. “Yes. Now go forth, zip it up and zip it out, and eat pierogies until they have to roll you out of both restaurants.”

I’m exaggerating. It’s all love in the Hong Kong Eastern European food scene. It’s not like the highly tumultuous and infamous Hong Kong bagel scene though, which is essentially one giant season of The Sopranos – except with sesame seed buns, pastrami, and to-go coffees. But you do have people who will swear by one or the other – and I would primarily attribute this to the fact that there really are only two formidable adversaries in the pierogi, latka, and cabbage roll game.

The solution? Support both and find what you like at each restaurant. Each carries its own unique strengths. Some days, I’m in the mood for Ivan the Kozak’s ox tongue with mushroom sauce (I’m a big proponent of ox over here at Pale Ale Travel) and grilled lamb ribs, other days, I’m in the mood for Dacha’s bite-sized pelmeni and cabbage rolls. 

As I said above, “Why not both?” It’s the high-quality, adult equivalent of when I was a teenager and would order a McDouble from WacArnold’s (Chappelle’s Show) and then drive right across to Wendy’s (it’s New Hampshire and they place all the fast food restaurants right next to one another) for a 20 piece nugget. 

Heart, Heartiness, & Hearth All in One Place

From the second you step off the elevator, you’re confronted with a portly statue of a handle-bar mustachioed Kozak holding up what I can only presume is a small barrel of mead. His white folk shirt, tucked into the signature carmine baggy trousers, cut down the middle by a baby blue sash and tucked way shashka (curved sword). There’s a cartoonish yet comforting calmness to this hearty, rotund man that sets the tone of your forthcoming pierogi séance. 

It’s guaranteed that you’ll feel like your friend’s Ukrainian grandmother invited you into her winter cottage to brave a long Carpathian winter (with goodies to boot) – if your grandmother was a badass, horse-taming, warrior with a thirst for democracy and disdain for feudalistic Russian systems. 

Dark red tablecloths with red, black, and white placemats – resembling something a second aunt would knit you to wear for your 3rd grade yearbook picture – catch your eye as you’re ushered to your table. Chipped wooden dressers and mantles, deliberately bundled bales of straw, and leatherette booths both deliberately and indiscriminately scattered across the dining floor. Soothing Cossack tricolors (reds, light blues, and yellows), baked into almost every trinket, fixture, and outfit. Your mind and stomach are at ease before you’ve even seen the menu. 

Pale Ale Travel Note: I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve failed to snap pictures of the borscht every time I’ve eaten here, so I left it out of this write-up.

There Goes Peter Cottontail, Hopping Down the Dinner Trail

Rabbit stew (pictured above) is one of those foods that always catches you by surprise and inevitably leads to someone making a comment, “Hey guys, why don’t we eat more rabbit stew?” Then someone usually chimes in, “Yeah, try telling that to Chris McCandless.” It then gets silent and the next person to ladle themselves some stew can’t help but think to themselves that they would fare better in the Alaskan Wilderness and declare it to the group. Not me. 

I’m not even worried about starving because of rabbit stew as I would be a grizzly’s morning snack long before it got to that point (granted, I think it was the combination of rabbit-induced malnutrition and the toxic seeds of a wild potato).  

Ivan the Kozak’s rabbit stew is rife with contrasting flavors and textures. The rabbit meat, relatively mild but gamey, is there to absorb the depth of a broth powered by parsley, thyme, and paprika (I think paprika is in traditional Ukrainian stew). The carrots and bell peppers, there to add a tinge of sweetness. It’s as if a traditional vegetable stew and light gravy were judiciously mixed in a beaker, resulting in a slightly thickened broth to coat the neutral carbohydrates tucked below. Yes, that’s right. What you might not be able to tell about this stew is that nestled underneath all the rabbit and garnishings is spaghetti. 

23 Years (& More) of Tried & Tested Stroganoff

Ivan the Kozak’s beef stroganoff with tomato sour cream sauce and mashed potatoes is my definition of a fantastic meal – meat and potatoes. I’ve mentioned in other posts, I grew up eating a pretty consistent diet of Central and Eastern European-inspired dishes – beef stroganoff being an all too common staple in my haunted, Victorian home where a medical doctor was said to have been scalped by native Americans (a little fun history about my creepy old house). And, if you subsisted solely on beef stroganoff in the Alaskan wilderness, it wouldn’t kill you. In fact, you might bloat up to the size of a grizzly bear yourself. 

Old Ivan and Co.’s stroganoff ticks all the boxes for what a hearty and memorable stroganoff should be, rich, creamy, and aromatic, elevated by carefully sauteed and slow-cooked carrots and onions which render a mildly sweet, caramelized essence throughout each bite of thin, tender beef. The mashed potatoes, made with either heavy cream or sour cream, boast a creamy consistency and slight tanginess (which makes me think they are made with smetana – a type of sour cream) that undercuts the richness of its meat counterpart. 

If you own a bear hide rug, a raccoon skin cap, and a musket, and live in a wooden cabin with a dog named ‘Paww’, this is your dish. Or, if you just want to feel the warmth and love of home cooking, then this is for you too.

Dumplings, Pelmeni, & Manti Galore

Packed with minced chicken and delicately wrapped, the manti exists somewhere between a Georgian khinkali and Chinese xiao long bao. Khinkali is typically made with a thicker dough, with twisted knobs at the top, and filled with minced beef and pork (rarely lamb or other meat), while xiao long bao boasts a thinner external dough layer that is steamed (as opposed to boiled like the khinkali) and stuffed with a fat and jellied filling that renders down into its signature lava hot broth. 

Truth be told, you could come solely to try the various plates of pierogies and leave an ecstatic individual. At the heart of Ivan the Kozak’s pierogi campaign is their traditional boiled pork and onion pierogi (drizzled with butter), a savory and sweet filling that boasts a nice little chewiness. The focus is simple, yet comforting and nostalgic. An accompanying dollop of sour cream, more of a gastronomic setter rather than an outside hitter (Ukrainians do love their volleyball), there to tee up a cool, tangy contrast to the warm pillowy inside.

You may be picking up on something looking at these pictures of pierogies, pelmeni, and manti – I did eat sour cream. Eastern European fare really is the only type of cuisine that I’ll make an exception for due to it being so baked into the history and fabric of its food. However, I still only take light pecks at it, like when a woman who is a heavy smoker tries to french you but you just give her baby bird kisses to avoid that car exhaust aftertaste.

The potato, mushroom, and onion pierogies at Ivan the Kozak are the stars of the show. Think of a sweet potatoes’ naturally maltose flavoring with hints of nuttiness and earthy undertones. When cooked (boiled), they take on an almost creamy, velvety texture. Now, toss in some already sauteed mushrooms to kick up that earthiness and balance out the caramelized onions, and you have a pierogi that could honestly be eaten as an appetizer, main, or even dessert. 

Pelmeni really are the Flinstones Vitamins of the dumpling world. Bite-sized, easily poppable, and something you could easily consume 25 of without actually realizing it. The generous coating of drizzled butter breaks these little concentrated, chewy morsels of minced chicken and pork down into rich, glossy, and luxurious bites that are so good, that you’ll likely end up ordering a whole plate for yourself.

Stuffed with feta cheese and garnished with dill, their soft cheese pierogi is for those in the mood for something salty, slightly sour, and creamy (who love an herbaceous finish). Because of the often overwhelming fragrance and tanginess, these are the only dumpling amalgamation on the list that I can only eat 12 of (as opposed to 20).

Tangy Cabbage Rolls & Golden Brown Potato Pancakes

If you’ve read my post on one of my favorite spots in Bangkok, Avra, a Georgian and Greek restaurant just off Sukhumvit 33, then you already know that ordering cabbage rolls isn’t even up for debate when I step into a restaurant that serves them. Tangy, savory, and packed to the gills with juice, the tender cabbage leaves coexist perfectly with the firmer, meaty interior (this is a chicken, pork, and beef trio). 

If I’m going to Ivan the Kozak by myself, this is the dish that I opt for (with a side of pierogies of course). 

I think the only reason I’m ending with the Ukrainian potato pancakes (deruny) is that we ordered these later in the meal. Ivan the Kozak is never a “get in and get out” type of experience. You want to post up, set up a mailing address, and hunker down for the winter. When this is the case, you really don’t need to worry about the order in which you consume the dishes. It’s all going down the gullet at some point.

Ivan the Kozak’s potato pancakes have a mild earthy flavor that is sealed in by a golden brown, slightly grainy, and starchy outside. There is an audible “crunch” when first biting in which tells you everything you need to know about the proficiency behind whoever made them, meaning that all excess moisture was removed (typically with cheesecloth) and the batter was not overmixed (which can break down the potatoes’ grated/shredded structure). 

My only regret about Ivan the Kozak is that I am usually so stuffed by the end of my meal that I have failed to save room for dessert (I do save room for vodka shots though). This is a tragedy considering they serve up several variations of Ukrainian honey cake (the classic and then chocolate or pistachio) and blini pancakes (blini are constructed with yeast instead of baking powder) with mixed berries and ice cream.   

Pale Ale Travel Tip: If you are looking to do a pierogi bang-bang (where you go to two different pierogi restaurants back-to-back) or just want to experience the other major Eastern European restaurant in Central, make sure to check out my article breaking down what I loved about Dacha. 

You Know What Rhymes With “Friday?” Vodka

“Shawty whatchu think ‘bout that.” – T-Pain

While Ivan the Kozak does sport a small list of craft beer, it wouldn’t be fitting if there wasn’t some type of Eastern European carbonated beverage on deck. I teetered between their Kvass (a bitter and slightly sweet fermented “soda” popular in the former Soviet Union) and Budva. Unsurprisingly, I was in the mood for something I could drink 15 of, so maybe this beverage free will was in fact illusory. 

Having experienced my first true Budva out at Prater Park (Vienna) and in its apex form – draft form, it was both nostalgic and slightly disappointing that I was relegated to drinking 17 of these out of a bottle (instead of with a foamy, frothy head). However, I was in noble-minded company, magnanimous in victory after decimating me in Budva chugging competitions, encouraging me to “try again.” I obliged.  

If you are going to drink a beer out of the bottle, there aren’t many better than an ice-cold Budva – a crisp, slightly sweet Czech lager with a malty and clean finish. And it serves as the perfect Flava Flav hype man for a potion straight out of the underworld. Honey. Pepper. Vodka. 

I know what you’re thinking, “But Big Body, I always ask the waiter for extra pepper on my carbonara at the Olive Garden!” First mistake. Don’t look at the menu and think you are getting run-of-the-mill table pepper. This is a chili pepper. Look at the bottle. It’s something I imagine the denizens of Hell in Adam Sandler’s Little Nicky would use to wash down their Popeyes chicken after the portal to Earth unfreezes. 

When I see the word “honey,” I always convince myself that the joyous sweetness of this nectar is going to come through far more than it actually does. Fool me once. I’m usually then brought back down to reality by a fiery, aromatic Johnny Cage (Mortal Kombat) nut punch. There is something sadistic and addictive about it though and after more than a handful of Budvas, you’ll go back for a second shot just to see if the spice easies this time around.

Pale Ale Travel Tip: While it might not truly scratch that itch you have for Eastern European cuisine, it may come close. Schnitzel & Schnaps serves up classic Central-European-inspired cuisine over on Hollywood Road (right across from Dacha) and is a formidable haunt for quality wiener schnitzel, apple strudel, and of course schnapps (of all flavors). 

Ivan the Kozak: You Have My Sword, My Bow, & My Fork

When it comes to Eastern European cuisine in Hong Kong, competition is necessary and it should be celebrated. Pierogi and potato pancake Mortal Kombat matches mean that there is a thriving, nascent culinary demographic that is only set to solidify itself further. 

It means there are likely more Central and Eastern Europeans who have made their way over to the Fragrant Harbor. It means that this delicious, hearty, comfort food is making its way to more palettes. It means this Big Body is mixing in more vodka into his diet (and not the type that requires Red Bulls). Ivan the Kozak sits (and rides) comfortably on its stroganoff-fed steed, leading the Eastern European gastronomical front into F&B battle. And I’d happily stand beside them to defend that cause any day of the week.

If you’ve had the pleasure of dining at Ivan the Kozak (or Dacha), I’d love to hear from you in the comments. Let me know what your favorite dish was, how you think it compares to other Eastern European cuisine you’ve eaten, and how many shots of vodka you tossed back as a “digestif” at the end of your meal. 

Eat well everyone,

Big Body