During my childhood in Ukraine, my family had only one way of makingborscht. Place oxtail in a heavy pot with cold water and aromatics.Simmer for hours until the meat is tender and the stock rich andviscous. Add the skimmed fat to a frying pan to soften the smazhennia,a Ukrainian sofrito of diced onions and finely julienned carrots, untilthe natural sugars are drawn out. Then comes the acidity: juicy tomatoesin the summer; fizzy, funky fermented tomato purée in the winter; and,always, some julienned beetroot—not too much, and only the light-coloredborshevoy buriak, which grow in the sandy soils of southern Ukraine.(“How can one use this ghastly red beetroot—it dies the potatoes red,everything red!” my late grandmother Lusia would say with deadlyseriousness.) Boil large chunks of potato and red kidney beans in thebroth until soft, but cook shredded cabbage only briskly, to retain aslight crunch. Season with dense homemade sour cream, salt-cured porkpounded with garlic and salt, or, if you’re old-school, umami-richpowders made from pulverized sun-dried tomatoes and gobies, a bull-facedfish found in the Sea of Azov. The soup must be thick, so the spoonstands up straight. Garnish with handfuls of dill, fermented in winter.Rye sourdough or garlic pampushky bread, and often whole spring onionsand hot red chilies in the summer, are to be bitten into between eachspoonful.
It wasn’t until I reached adulthood that I realized that borscht couldbe made another way. I was just out of graduate school and working as anassistant Russian literary translator. My main work was onclassics—Pushkin’s “The Captain’s Daughter,” Platonov’s “The Foundation Pit”—butmy mentor also translated smaller articles on the side, and when hedidn’t have enough time to take on new assignments he would send them myway. One day, an unusual one arrived in my in-box: a study, conducted by aRussian academic, on the history of borscht. I don’t remember all thedetails of the article, and my translation has been lost to time, butone description stayed with me: borscht in the early nineteenth century,made for the Russian tsar, consisted of three stocks blendedtogether—one of veal, another of morel mushrooms, and a third of gooseand dried prune, with sour cherries used for acidity instead oftomatoes, which were not yet common in Russian cooking. This soundedlike the most luxurious foundation of a borscht I could imagine—bothworlds apart from my family’s version and somehow similar, a balance ofmeaty and sour and sweet.
In the years since, I’ve become a chef and cookbook author, and inresearching varieties of borscht I’ve discovered an astounding range ofpreparations. The soup is eaten everywhere in Eastern Europe, from theformerly Prussian Kaliningrad, where Russia now meets Poland, all theway through the Caucasus, and extends into Iran and Central Asia, finishingsomewhere out by the eastern island of Sakhalin, near Japan, or theKamchatka Peninsula, near Alaska.
In Poland, for instance, they cook a soup in the Ukrainian style, butalso make a thinner Russian one and a gorgeous Christmas version, anelegant and clear bright-red consommé with delicate dumplings calleduzska (ears), filled with porcini or wild mushrooms and sauerkraut.For sourness, apples are often added to the stock, just as unripeMirabelle plums and apricots are used in some parts of Ukraine andRomania. In deep winter in Poland, Ukraine, and the Baltics, zakwas, afermented liquid made with beets and other aromatics, is the foundationof choice. In Moldova, where maize is king, a fermented starter issometimes made with polenta and bran water infused with sour cherryleaves or even young cherry branches, to cut through a fatty pork stock.Georgians and Azerbaijanis, as always, put their own delicious spin onthings, adding either fresh, chopped red chili or hot chili flakes andlots of chopped fresh cilantro and dill.
Beef, well-marbled and on the bone, is one of the most cited sources forstock-making, but pork stocks seem to have the most variations, withversions made of anything from simple fresh cuts to smoked ribs, hamhocks, and sausages in Hungary and Poland to crunchy pork ears inUkraine. Lacking pork or beef, you can always use a wiry rooster; itstough meat might stick between your teeth, but its bones will help tocreate the most flavorsome of broths. The only thing I haven’tencountered to date is a seafood-based borscht. Maybe one exists inKamchatka, home to the world’s largest crabs and other oceanicdelicacies? If you have a recipe, please, do speak up.
More surprising than the many carnivorous varieties is the overwhelmingnumber of vegetarian recipes, born of scarce times when people had tomake do without meat. Root vegetables like celeriac, parsnip, andturnips were often used to give flavor and body, and dry mushrooms werepopular in forest-dense areas. In spring, across Eastern Europe, thoseheavy tubers would be swapped for young beet tops, sorrel, wild garlic,nettles, soft herbs, spring onions, or garden peas, all of which wouldcontribute to a widespread creation of a completely different, gentlersoup called green borscht. It is fresh and zingy, enriched with a garnishof chopped hard-boiled eggs. Ice-cold bright-red beetroot consommé,originating in Lithuania, but also popular today in Poland, is garnishedwith chopped radishes and cucumbers to add the crunch and kefir orbuttermilk for that desired sour note. For sweetness, among those whomanaged to escape the U.S.S.R., even ketchup has been adopted with glee.
Variations are dictated by the land, weather, and local traditions, butalso by circ*mstance: people from different cultures intermarry;families are both willingly and forcibly moved. In my sixteen years inthe U.K., I have often heard stories that begin with “I’m Czech, but myCrimean Jewish grandmother. . .”; “Our borscht in Mennonite Manitoba by wayof western Ukraine is. . .”; “My Iranian dad loved this version of myRussian mother’s borscht. . .” In recent years, my own father started gratingginger into his borscht, convinced that my five-year-old son, who ishalf Thai, might prefer it with an Asian twist. It turned out that dad’sgingery addition did not spoil the soup. It just added a subtle hint ofwarmth, so appealing that I, too, now add some to my pot. I still,however, always seek out the paler “candy” beets, fearful of whatbabushka Lusia would say if she ever saw that my borscht potatoes weredyed that screaming purple-red.
Babushka Lusia’s Ukrainian Winter Borscht
Serves four.
4-5 lbs. oxtail
2 onions
3 large carrots
1/2 celeriac or 2 stalks of celery
4 allspice berries, roughly crushed
10 peppercorns
2 bay leaves
2 beetroots, peeled (preferably the pale variety, but the red kind will do)
1/2 small green cabbage, sliced
14-oz. can chopped tomatoes
14-oz. can red kidney beans
4 medium potatoes, peeled
1 clove garlic
1/2 bunch dill, chopped
Sour cream or crème fraîche to serve (optional)
1. Fill a large pot with cold water. Halve one onion and add it to thepot. Roughly chop two carrots and the celeriac and add them, alongwith the allspice, peppercorns, and bay leaves. Add the oxtail and agood pinch of salt.
2. Bring the water to the boil. Skim the froth and discard it. Turn theflame to low and simmer the stock for two to three hours, until themeat separates easily from the bone.
3. While the stock is simmering, peel and finely dice the other onion.Roughly grate the remaining carrot. Cut the beetroot intomatchsticks.
4. Skim some of the beef fat with a ladle off the top of the stock andpour it into a large frying pan. Turn the heat to medium and waitfor the fat to start sizzling. Add your onion and sauté it gently,stirring from time to time, until it softens and starts tocaramelize. Then add the carrot and cook for about five minutes.Season with salt and taste—it should be well-seasoned.
5. Add the beetroot to the pan and cook for a few minutes. Finally, addthe tomatoes, cook for a couple of minutes, and taste. If it tastestoo sour, add a pinch of sugar.
6. Drain the beef stock into a large bowl. Reserve the oxtail, butdiscard the rest. Pour the stock back into the pot with the oxtail.
7. Add the contents of the frying pan to the stockpot with the potatoesand cook for seven minutes over medium-high heat. Then add thecabbage and cook for another three minutes. The potatoes should besoft and the cabbage al dente. Finally, grate the garlic straightinto the pot and give it a vigorous stir.
8. Serve the borscht with plenty of chopped dill, some sour cream onthe side, and some good-quality bread for dipping. The soup willtaste even better the next day.
