Uzbekistan, the restaurant, does not exist. At least, it’s not on the shuttered Kennsington, Brooklyn block on which I find myself one recent Saturday evening alongside Swallow magazine’s James Casey, who’s directed us here from the back of a Honda sedan. The plan was to visit Brighton Beach in deference to Swallow’s recent Trans-Siberian issue, sample local delicacies like Armenian walnuts preserved in syrup, and travel to a satellite restaurant for spiced meats. But nothing’s happened quite according to plan, which, Casey assures me, is really the plan. Such is travel, a procession of accidents (Casey, for example, lost his passport in a Moscow vodka parlor, the story of which is detailed in a Master and Margarita-like cartoon that comes tucked between the pages of the magazine), a destination within the journey, et cetera. Swallow is also about food, and there isn’t anywhere Casey won’t go for good grub, including the end of the Q line.

We arrive by train at the Slavic enclave late in the afternoon. Immediately, we notice that Brighton Beach Avenue has a lot produce on view, really fresh-looking, fragrant produce that’s releasing a silty vegetal scent from heaped sidewalk crates, on sale for anemically low prices. A man shaped like an eggplant walks by in a tight yellow tank top. Casey steers us into a giant shop called M & I International Food. It looks like an 80s-era office building foyer moonlighting as a bazaar. We purchase bottles of Troika Kvass, a fermented bread drink that looks like Western frontier medicine and tastes sudsy and delicious. I ask about the Trans-Siberian issue. “It’s a romantic canard, as the route through to Beijing is actually the Trans-Siberian/Trans-Mongolian to Beijing,” he says before explaining that M & I sells Georgian products, beloved, yet next to impossible to find in modern Russia.

next to impossible to find in modern Russia.“As an unrepentant Russophile, I figured a seven day journey from Moscow to Beijing would be just the ticket.” However, due to losing his passport in the capital, Casey wasn’t able to take the train to Beijing. Instead, he flew later to meet his crew in Irkutsk. “Actually, the same scenario repeated itself a few days later when after taking the train to Ulaanbaatar, I had to wait behind a few days to get my Chinese visa, which I had also lost,” he adds. We walk ten or so blocks to a Georgian bakery that I’m promised makes some of the best khachapuri, or cheese bread, around, and find that it’s closed for the afternoon.

Nick Haymes

"Swallow isn’t a food magazine in the conventional sense,” Casey says as we alight onto the Brighton Beach boardwalk. “It’s more of a way to use food to look at culture, or to use culture to look at food. In fact, as food becomes more of an obsession here in the US, it seems that our approach to food is entirely entwined with celebrity chefs, hot dog eating contests, and televised cooking competitions.” Directly ahead of us, the most inexplicable dance party I’ve ever seen is taking place. There are lots of man-dates underway, and large men walking small dogs. The canopied restaurants that sprawl onto the boardwalk announce themselves with one-word summations: Elitny, VIPny, Euro, Eurostyle. Crazes for particular modified Western idioms change yearly, Casey explains, and as you look around Brighton Beach, you can more or less tell how long a club or store or restaurant has been there based on which is emblazoned above its entrance, not unlike tree rings or certain tattoo designs.

We sit for beers and Casey explains how his lunatic vision for Swallow—a hardbound, comparatively expensive print magazine—first appeared to him. “The idea was born sometime in 2004. At the time, I was working at a teenage fashion magazine, and I realized that I spent more time thinking about food and travel than what I was working on. The first stab at making an issue was a total disaster. We had something on Portuguese food, a Mexico City story that seemed mainly based on the vast amount of off-hours we spent in seedy cantinas, and some Flemish still-life thing with dead rabbits, all of which arrived on set without their heads and legs.” A lot’s changed since the first issue, which ended up focusing exclusively on Scandinavia. The second Trans-Siberian installment—each issue is hemmed geographically—features a mini-play by Michael Idov, photography by Horacio Salinas, and a photographic flow-chart detailing the dismemberment and cooking of a Mongolian marmot. (Disclosure: Casey is a good friend, and I also have a piece in the issue. I assure you it’s middle-to-high brow and brilliant.)

Petri Haggren and Guy Isherwood

Further down the boardwalk, we try and fail to solicit a leaflet promoting a local classical radio show from a dour woman I'm tempted to think of as babushka. Even when Casey manages a request in Russian, she insists it’s for native speakers only. We wait across from a rotating fur coat advertisement for the Honda to fetch us. “Gourmet magazine’s untimely demise was a total disgrace and no one is really there to pick up the mantle of committing themselves to creating great stories around the world,” says Casey, who’s gearing up for a trip to Mexico in a few days, where the next Swallow will be based. “While Swallow is no way capable of doing what they were doing, I hope that we at least can still strive to show the reader something totally unexpected and new.” At that, we’re blasting up Ocean Parkway.

Swallow is available for purchase at discriminating bookstores.