So, It's a hub of Soviet physics; what else does St Petersburg have to offer? I'm gonna be pleasant. If you avoid most items on the menu, the food is pretty good. You want my advice, get the steak. You want a footnote to that advice: don't look at the price. Just buy it. It'll come, it'll be good; you can choke on the bill later. Blinis! Stop shouting. The blinis are good too. Little pancakes. How can a pancake be bad? Cheap too. Relatively cheap, I should say.
But wait. Where are all the people? Where are the physicists? Where are the emaciated serfs? Forgive me. Emancipated serfs. Could it be the price of the caviar? Ha! The price of the caviar is to be expected. Gazillions per egg. Could it be the price of everything else. You bet your ass it could. Order one or two basic items and you'll go into receivership. There's no need for prices like this. Not even in Earth's greatest restaurants would you want to pay 50 billions for a plate of boiled salmon. Why here? Who runs this place? The mafia? I wouldn't be surprised. How else can it survive?
Time to be less pleasant. It's not the tomatoes that create black holes; it's the till. A great swollen mass of cash. Forget the steak. Forget the Blinis. Forget St Petersburg.