You were educated as a sociologist. What brought you into agriculture, and why did the Lukhovitsy cucumbers captivate you so much that you decided to make their cultivation your life’s work?

I fell in love with the Lukhovitsy cucumber at first bite. I enjoy travelling through the Moscow Region, and in 2014, I followed the route from Kolomna to Zaraysk and then to Lukhovitsy, where I naturally tried the local specialty. The cucumber was amazing; it immediately seemed unfair that such delights couldn’t be found in Moscow. It needed fixing.

That’s one part of the story. The second part: in the same year, 2014, there was a food embargo, and Russian authorities called for more active development of agriculture. And I’m not just a sociologist but also an entrepreneur who has studied management. I had a restaurant, still have a hotel, now I wanted to try my hand at farming.

Is it really that simple?

Yes, it’s driven by an idea: if something inspires me, I do it. I bought a plot of land, 40 hectares on the banks of the Oka River, and started building green-houses that very autumn to harvest crops in 2015. Initially, they were wooden structures; now they’re metal. These greenhouses last a long time, and the film stretched over them needs replacing every three to five years, depending on the weather.

Although there are thousands of cucumber farms in Lukhovitsy, they are all relatively small, producing up to 500–600 kilograms a day. Meanwhile, Moscow supermarket chains accept deliveries starting from three to five tonnes. Farmers were unable to unite, so sold their produce mainly at local fairs, occasionally participating in weekend markets in Moscow.

We began supplying major retail networks in Moscow and the Moscow Region almost right away, from 2015–2016. At first, we delivered minimal quantities but, soon enough, the supermarkets realized how great our product was and demanded more and more Lukhovitsy cucumbers. The growing demand allowed us to increase the number of green-houses and expand shipments accordingly. Immediately, counterfeit products appeared too. To protect the Lukhovitsy cucumber brand name, we established the Association of Lukhovitsy Farmers in 2016 and patented our cucumbers. Protecting the brand requires effort, though farmers are primarily focused on crop yields.

For about four years, we were the sole major producers in the area. Nowadays, there are more cucumber farms, and our share of the Lukhovitsy cucumber market is probably around 30%. It’s not like we’re being pushed out or losing customers, supplying trade networks isn’t easy; it’s a massive job requiring specialized departments within our company. Not everyone has refrigerated storage facilities but cucumbers must be cool when they arrive at logistics centres before being distributed to stores, at a strictly maintained specific temperature. During a quality control inspection, warm cucumbers are sent back. Our cucumbers can be purchased at hypermarkets like Globus, Dixy, METRO Cash & Carry and VkusVill.

How can one tell a genuine Lukhovitsy cucumber from a fake?

A real Lukhovitsy cucumber has a thin skin covered with tiny bumps; when I touch it, I usually compare its texture to a man’s unshaven face. Standard length is no more than 13 centimetres, it tastes slightly sweet, juicy, and crunchy. They’re always fresh: morning-picked cucumbers reach store shelves the same day because trucks leave the farm at four o’clock in the morning. We plan deliveries exactly to meet demand, ensuring everything sells by evening. Southern-grown cucumbers often masquerade as Lukhovitsy (such imitations appear in supermarkets already in April). They’re watery, quickly gain mass at high temperatures, with thicker skins protecting them against scorching sunlight. Counterfeits are least common (and chances are highest you’ll buy authentic Lukhovitsy cucumbers) between mid-June and mid-August, until the second southern crop matures.

Is it true that the Lukhovitsy cucumber is a designation rather than a variety, similar to Vologda butter?

Exactly, that’s correct. Just like butter: it’s made pretty much the same way everywhere but, around Vologda, there’s a good environment, succulent grass for cows, excellent milk, and strong traditions. That’s why it tastes so delicious. Similarly, in our lowlands near the Oka River, there’s a unique microclimate combining black soil and water that makes the cucumber sweet, crispy, dense, and almost seedless. The sun here is gentle but warmer by a couple of degrees than in Moscow.

Have growing technologies changed significantly during these past ten years you’ve been involved in cucumber farming? Have there been any breakthroughs?

I stick to traditional methods, especially when it comes to additives: if we introduce chemicals into the soil, the taste changes, and I want to preserve it while increasing yield so there’s enough for everyone.

Of course, technology plays a role: we use drip irrigation systems, and recently imported a tractor from China to loosen the ground. But fertilization remains traditional: we use manure from neighbuoring Red Meadows farm (Krasnaya Poyma) and add milk, sugar, and vinegar to the irrigation water. Milk provides calcium, vinegar protects against diseases, and sugar makes the cucumbers sweeter. To strengthen the root system, we graft each cucumber sprout onto a pumpkin sprout: pumpkins have stronger roots, so the cucumber plant can absorb more nutrients from the soil and extend its lifespan.

The import ban on foreign foods certainly gave a big boost to Russian agriculture: back in 2014, many fields lay fallow but today it’s nice to drive by and see them flourishing. An agricultural college has opened in our district of Lukhovitsy, offering free education and opportunities for professional development. Still, finding skilled workers remains a challenge. Working the land is labuor-intensive, literally dirty, and simultaneously demands skills: my neighbour grows raspberries and complains how hard it is to find people capable of picking berries without crushing them.

Despite your successful farm debunking the saying about three easy ways to ruin yourself (the fastest being gambling, the most pleasant women, and the surest agriculture), there seems to be some truth to it: farming is incredibly tough, requiring nerves of steel.

It is truly gruelling! For example, in 2017, we experienced a cold rainy summer: cucumbers that should ripen in May weren’t even thinking of doing so by mid-June. I had to borrow money to pay salaries. Fortunately, agriculture continues to receive government support: we’re exempt from profit tax, enjoy tax breaks, and can obtain microloans of up to RUB 2–4 million at interest rates as low as 1%. That saved us that year, although recovery took some time.

I own a country hotel, which also comes with challenges and intricacies, but it’s farming that has shaped me, tempered me, and allowed me to reinforce my strengths. Agricultural management differs greatly from other sectors: if someone working at a travel agency goes off for a smoke break and coffee, nothing catastrophic happens. If each of my hundred employees leaves their post for just 10 minutes, things go haywire.

What is the lifecycle of the Lukhovitsy cucumber? What’s happening with it right now, towards the end of April?

Right now, we’re transplanting sprouts from individual pots (cassettes) into greenhouse soil.

At the end of February, we start heating the nursery greenhouses where we grow the seedlings. Once the greenhouses warm up, we sow seeds in separate cassettes, and seedlings soon emerge. In March, we begin crossbreeding them manually with pumpkin shoots, we insert pieces of pumpkin root into each one. Around 25 April, depending on the weather (this schedule may vary), we transfer 15-centimetre sprouts into the greenhouse soil. Timely planting is crucial as holding them too long in cassettes prevents them from bearing fruit. Imagine how afraid we are of night frosts.

The first baby cucumbers appear on 15 May. Though initially imperfect-looking, buyers eagerly come for them. As the vines climb higher, we string ropes for them to cling along, pruning side branches (which steal energy from the main stem) and trimming leaves obstructing sunlight. This constant care ensures proper growth.

How many cucumber plants do you have?

Roughly a million. You know, this is the first time I’ve mentioned this figure aloud, and I’m amazed myself. Each greenhouse holds 10,000 plants, and we have 100 greenhouses. Daily, we harvest approximately 20–25 tonnes (a bit less at season start and finish, i.e., May and September, with the peak in between), yielding roughly 2,000 tonnes annually. With the first frosts, we cut down the vines and prepare for February and the next cycle.

Do vegetable growers in the Moscow Region support one another?

We strive to. I’m a member of the Moscow Peasant Union, where frequent meetings address shared issues all famers face. Together, we’ve represented agrarian interests in the regional government, such as by advocating successfully for weekend markets outside suburban shopping malls to which we could bring our goods free of charge. There’s even a group chat connecting us.

Certainly, cucumbers alone aren’t sufficient for business sustainability. What else have you experimented with?

For a period, I tried cultivating Uzbek tomatoes using Uzbek seeds. Unfortunately, despite globalized efforts, those grown in Uzbekistan remain sweeter owing to factors like soil, climate, and water, all essential elements we discussed earlier. Additionally, our tomatoes, though tasty, didn’t meet the requirements of supermarket chains: retailers need red fruits that stay fresh for several days, whereas Uzbek tomatoes are best consumed as soon as they turn red. There was a brief attempt to supply restaurants, including negotiations, but catering specifically to them would require a different logistics setup. Restaurants typically order smaller quantities, say 10–20 kilograms a day, rather than the tonne-scale operations we currently manage. Moreover, restaurants prefer ordering mixed baskets containing various vegetables: tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, bell peppers, herbs, rather than focusing on just one type.

You planned to develop eco-tourism initiatives in Lukhovitsy. Given the current trend toward such projects, what’s your vision for this venture?

Indeed, the government offers grants for agro-tourism, making it increasingly prevalent. We’ve prepared a project and hope to implement it soon. It will be fascinating if we collaborate with other local farms to offer visitors a complete immersive experience in local farming culture. Tourists could participate in picking cucumbers, apples, raspberries, etc., perhaps preparing preserves or sampling differently salted cucumbers. While it is located just 130 km from Moscow, this area boasts beautiful scenery, making it an attractive destination.

Still convinced that Lukhovitsy cucumbers reign supreme? What’s your favourite dish featuring them?

Absolutely, they’re unequivocally the best, I adore them and look forward to the season every year. My favourite recipe involves simply slicing a fresh cucumber in half and sprinkling it with salt. Another delightful option is lightly marinated cucumbers: mineral water, salt, garlic, dill, sealed in a bag and chilled for an hour. Then, they’re ready to eat.