A lot of peasant dishes are awesome, due largely to the use of animal fat. I was raised on one in particular, which I helped make on many occasions.

Shashlik is an old Russian peasant food made traditionally of lamb and cooked over an open flame (not a gas stove or bbq - it's got to be a wood or charcoal fire).

To properly make shashlik, do the following:

Get a big pot called a gorshok (basically a chamber pot because that was the only large pot peasants had). Really, you can use any large pot. Clean the pot. Soap and water.

Get some lamb. Now, this varies due to the quantity you want to make. We'd usually go for 5 pounds or more and have a good butcher cut it in to roughly 2" x 2" pieces (maybe a little smaller) and NOT trimming the fat. You need the fat. Do not "wash" the lamb.

Then get a bottle of vodka. Well, get several bottles of vodka. No kidding here. Get the vodka. I'd recommend Chopin. (I know it's Polish vodka and not Russian vodka, but it's made with potatoes so it counts.) Your taste may vary.

First put a single layer of the lamb pieces in the bottom of the pot.

Add salt and pepper. Go a little heavier on both than you think you'd want to. Put some ground garlic on top of that.

On top of the seasoned meat, add a layer of chopped YELLOW onions (not those purple things).

Get a whole ass load of lemons. Cut the lemons in to quarters and squeeze them over the onions and spiced meat. Squeeze them with your fingers, just like a real Russian peasant. Make sure you squeeze as much juice out as you can. And wear goggles so the lemon juice doesn't get in your eye (experience is talking here). Cover everything with a single layer of the now squeezed lemon rinds.

That's a lot more work than you think it might be, so have a shot of vodka. Maybe two.

Then do it again (make the lamb, spices, onions, lemons layer).

Take another break and have a shot or two of vodka. As you make the layers it gets easier.

Keep making layers until you run out of meat. Ideally you should have about 1/4-1/3 of the pot empty at the top. Oh - and the pot needs handles.

Kick back for a moment and have a shot or two of vodka. Really. Celebrate your achievement because the hard work is just beginning.

Next, get a large cotton cloth (any large kitchen cloth will do - you could even use a bungee cord or a tie-down if it's tight enough, and tie the lid on to the gorshok. Yeah, you want to do this. Again, experience talking here.

Make sure your wife or girlfriend has cleaned out the refrigerator for the gorshok. (Don't think this is sexist. This is the Russian way.) Put the gorshok in the fridge.

Again, celebrate your achievement, knowing what's to come, and have more vodka. Party it up for an hour or so.

Get the gorshok out of the fridge and take turns "beating the meat". Basically the large men should each take a turn with the gorshok, holding it by the handles, and shaking the ever-loving fuck out of it. It's like a strength initiation of sorts. Guess why the top should be tied on? (There's that experience.)

When the meat is thoroughly beaten, untie the top and stir the entire concoction by hand. NO SPOONS OR IMPLEMENTS! USE YOUR HANDS! THIS IS THE RUSSIAN WAY! (It's also a great way to find out if you have any small wounds or papercuts. Apply vodka to the small wounds and papercuts.)

Then, optionally, you can beat the meat again if you're feeling particularly strong, but experience has shown this might just tire you out. Put the gorshok back in the fridge.

Party it up, celebrate your achievement, and restore your strength for a couple of hours.

Pull the gorshok out of the fridge and "beat the meat" again. Stir it again. Put it back in the fridge again. Drink more vodka again. (Yes, really.)

Okay, so you probably thought this was all preparation for a party later in the day. Nope! This is all preparation for a party the NEXT day. And do you continue "beating the meat"? Yep, you wake up every few hours that night to beat that meat. And party. Don't forget to drink the vodka or you won't get back to sleep. It's like a protection from the gods.

So keep beating the meat until it's time for the party. Ideally your meat should have marinated for pretty much a whole day. At the very least 16 hours.

Get your barbecue hot - like really good and hot.

Go dig through your garage for the shampre. That's what my Dad called them. I think he was using the wrong word. Basically they're long, sword-like, specialized skewers. We couldn't find any good ones in stores so we had a set made. Not cheap, but you need something what will easily support a pound or more of cooked meat and be held from one end. Ours are like 36" or so. Anyway, dig around until you find them because you put them somewhere after you did this the last time and now you have no idea where they are. Get them out.

CLEAN THE FUCKING SKEWERS. Soap and water.

Drink some vodka. It's nearly time.

Okay, now load the shampre with the meat. Don't put onions or lemons on the skewers because this ain't no vegetarian bullshit. Make sure you have somewhere to put those skewers before cooking them. We used to balance them across the kitchen sink. Mom hated that cause she was always wanting to use the sink. Well, some things come before... other things. Have another shot of vodka.

IMPORTANT NOTE ABOUT REMAINS! Once the shampre are loaded, you will have a bunch of heavy meat-swords and you will have a gorshok full of onions and lemons and spices. You know what you're doing with the meat, but what of the remains? No matter how much any person insists that you simply stuff it down the kitchen sink food disposal to grind it down the drain, DO NOT DO THIS! If you do this, the pipes beneath the sink, put together by that second-rate plumber who was recommended by the contractor you hired from three states away because he is the brother of one of your clients, will EXPLODE (blowing one of the sink cabinet doors off its hinges) producing a spectacular mess of onions, lemons, spices, pieces of pipe, and bits of sink cabinet door all over your newly finished antique wood floor. And while that second rate plumber (who really is a good guy) and the contractor (who is kind of an idiot - but also a good guy) are there at your party and jump immediately to the task of cleaning and fixing up this new spectacular bit of entertainment (for no extra charge of course), it's generally not something you want happening. Though it does make for a great story. (Again, more of that experience talking here.) If you don't want to use the leftover onions and lemons and spices for anything else, I'd recommend dumping them in a biodegradable plastic bag and sending them out in the green can.

Okay, time for the PRESENTATION.

Make a big-ass deal in front of all of your guests about bringing out the meat. Get a few people to help as those shampre will be heavy and unwieldy. (The position of 'Meat-Carrier' is a coveted one and is to be respected and revered.) Lay the shampre carefully across the open barbecue pit. Then you need three people to watch the meat. One to turn, one to assist turning, one to comment on what needs to be turned, one to taste, one to drink, and one to make sure nobody goes without vodka. Okay, more than three, but more is always better. (It's a Russian thing.)

THE TASTER IS THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN THE GROUP. And you can have multiple tasters.

Get the sharpest knife in the kitchen. If it's not sharp, you make it sharp. (If you don't know how to properly sharpen a knife, then learn beforehand. You can't be a real Russian peasant without knowing this skill. And you really don't want to be seen asking your brother-in-law, or his kid, or worse that contractor, to sharpen a knife at your party.) Use this sharp knife to cut a small piece from a piece of lamb about half way between the middle and the end of the meat on one of the shampre. You don't want to measure the middle and you don't want to measure the very end.

Immediately and with deciduousness, stuff that piece of meat in to the taster's mouth. It'll be hot. It'll hurt. Have vodka on hand. The vodka will help. The taster should know what he or she is doing with regard to how cooked meat should feel. When the tasters declare it's ready, you need a team of people to man the now emptied and cleaned gorshok. One person holds the gorshok, one person opens and closes the lid. One person pushes the meat off the shampur. (Use a rag on the pushing hand so you don't get burned - we're peasants but not idiots). Optionally, as the shampre can be heavy, one person might hold a shampur with two hands while another empties it of meat.

Lid opens. The shampur is emptied of meat. Lid is immediately closed and held tight. And so on until the shampre are empty of meat.

The gorshok (now full of delicious peasant lamb) is proudly and loudly carried to the eating area. Once the gorshok lands, people are to descend on it like vampires to a fresh virgin (or whatever vampires might flock to). You pick your pieces and eat WITH YOUR FINGERS. No forks or knives or any of that upscale "civilized" nonsense. You eat like a real Russian peasant. You eat like my great great great great great grandfather Yeftay who was seven feet tall, owned a farm, and lived in a house made with dung. (If you just can't bring yourself down to that level, you bolshevik, drink more vodka until you're there.) And if you don't eat the shashlik right away it'll be... less heavenly. Ideally you want it hot enough that it's just barely uncomfortable when it first enters your mouth.

I've made shashlik with my father dozens of times and never once did I ever hear anyone say it was anything less than completely awesome. Twice we even converted vegetarians. Yep, it's that good.