I   t was supped by European kings and queens in the time of Ivan the Terrible, Dostoevsky, Chekhov and Peter the Great. It was cherished and distilled by Russia’s nobility and loved by their loyal subjects. But when column stills were introduced to Russia in the late 19th century, along with a state monopoly on booze, Polugar was exiled, condemned to a life of obscurity and banished to the history books.

But gradually Polugar’s fortunes are changing as vodka historian, writer and Polugar distiller, Boris Rodionov, endeavours to restore the drink to its former glory. A task not without its challenges in a country where vodka reigns supreme.

Amid rumours of fake alcohol being sold in shops and the health scare that ensued just over a decade ago, Rodionov turned his hand to distilling vodka at home. Like most Russians, he considered vodka his national drink, but was dismayed when he could not produce an impurity-free spirit using his small copper pot still. He realised only column stills would give him pure vodka, but this was impractical as they are such complex works of engineering.

“Column stills only appeared in Russia in the 1880s. It means that theoretically vodka could not exist in Russia before the end of the 19th century,” explains  Rodionov. “If we take all strong national beverages in the world, they are all different but they have two unifying features. They all have a long history and any member of the nation can make his national drink at home. Vodka does not meet either of these criteria, as it is only a little over a hundred years old, and nobody can make a pure spirit, and therefore vodka, at home.”

A former scientist and director of a technical engineering company, Rodionov began studying the history of vodka to understand what Russians drank prior to the 1880s, and how they came to drink ‘modern vodka’. In his research, he unearthed a recipe for Polugar, or bread wine as it’s also known, in a book from the 18th century. “I desperately wanted to try the beverages our ancestors drank and that all future generations were deprived of,” he says. “It took several years to recover formulas and the techniques used by the old masters, but the results exceeded all expectations. It became clear that it was necessary to take every effort to return Polugar – undeservedly forgotten – to the tables of Russia.”

Along with the introduction of column stills, Rodionov also places the blame for Polugar’s demise squarely on the Tsar’s monopoly of 1895 (see ‘The usurping of Polugar’ below). “If there had been no Tsar’s monopoly, the situation in Russia would possibly look the way we see it in Europe now,” he laments. “Vodka came to Europe decades ago but did not replace any national drink. It just enriched the European alcohol menu. Vodka became the only prevalent beverage in Russia because of the decision of the authorities.”

A grain spirit with the flavour of rye bread, Polugar was a precursor to the clear, pure vodka we are familiar with today. Rodionov goes as far as to hail it as the “Father of Vodka”. To confuse matters, others simply regard Polugar as another name for vodka – it is by and large the same product.

“It’s really a matter of semantics. The word ‘vodka’ certainly existed [before the invention of column stills],” says Patricia Herlihy, Professor Emerita of History at Brown University and author of The Alcoholic Empire: Vodka and Politics in Late Imperial Russia. “People called white spirits, which were usually flavoured, vodka. In the sense that it is fermented grain, vodka is not different from bread wine. Although prior to the late 18th century, even not until the late 19th century, did the word ‘vodka’ stabilise. It had many different names, such as burning wine or bread wine, but it was all the same product, so to speak.”

But Rodionov, who views vodka as a modern, impurity-free spirit, argues: “According to the Russian and European legislation, the word ‘vodka’ is considered as a drink made of ethyl alcohol (distilled-rectified not less than 96%) diluted with water and has minimum impurities. If there are more impurities than legal regulations permit, then it is not vodka. If we forget about the current legal definition of vodka, and take the meaning of the word, just like the name of any Russian strong drink, then we can think like this [Polugar seen as an early form of vodka]. But honestly speaking, it’s the same as considering cognac as an early form of vodka, which is now produced from grapes.”

Regardless of whether it is a type of vodka, the “Father of Vodka” or indeed, plain old vodka, Polugar is certainly different from the likes of Smirnoff. Rodionov compares its production to that of whisky, only substituting preservation using egg white for ageing in oak barrels. Using rye and water, it is triple distilled in copper pot stills reconstructed from 18th-century drawings and treated with birch coal and egg white, a method originally used by the rich noblemen and landowners who distilled bread wine between the 17th and 19th centuries.

Polugar is certainly different from the likes of Smirnoff. Rodionov compares its production to that of whisky, only substituting preservation using egg white for ageing in oak barrels

Rodionov, alongside his son, currently produces seven lines of Polugar, including a garlic and pepper flavour, with plans to recreate dozens more from surviving recipes (Rodionov counted more than 150 different flavours in his research). They are now taking their first steps into the European market, and are looking to expand into the US market in the future. “At one time in the 19th century, Russian drinks were triumphantly presented at the Paris and Chicago exhibitions,” says Rodionov. “We hope to continue our ancestors’ tradition.”

For now, Polugar remains in slightly reduced circumstances. Complicated legislation has forced the Rodionovs to distill Polugar not in its homeland but in Poland. “The meaning of bread wine or Polugar simply doesn’t exist in standard documentation,” explains Rodionov. “It means it is not possible to get the licence for its production. There is no prohibition on consumption though, and Polugar comes to Russia from Poland as an imported drink.”

It will soon be Polugar’s 500th anniversary, and if the Rodionovs are going to succeed in their quest to reinstate their true heir, they have a mountain to climb. “In terms of volume consumed, vodka is the drink of choice,” Herlihy points out. But Rodionov’s enthusiasm – and determination – can’t be dampened.

“Polugar without any doubts is the national drink of Russia. For our family, Polugar production is not so much a business as an execution of a certain mission, the point of which is to return ‘lost values’ to Russia and the world,” he says. “Frankly, it was always offensive to me that my country is associated with such a primitive drink as vodka. Polugar is good enough to represent my country and join the ranks of whisky and brandy.”

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