Cultural Bridge Built on Beets – West Des Moines Editor’s Notebook: 2012 in Review

Editor’s Note: As we look back at 2012, we’re bringing back some of the stories that made you talk, laugh, cry or just shake your head. This was originally published on Oct. 25.
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If you don’t like the vastly unappreciated and much maligned beet, skip this - unless you want to know about the international bridge that beets built.

I am craving borscht almost as much as I’m missing my five Ukrainian friends who showed me how to make it the summer they came to Iowa. They  – Nadiya, Gelena, Olga, Igor and Borys – and the soup are inextricably linked.

I had spent two weeks in their country learning about their culture and trying to prepare them for ours. Their democracy was just emerging after the fall of communism in the 1990s, and I was there with some other news folks to help them better understand what to expect from their upcoming internships with the free press in Iowa.

I must have had borscht every day I was there, sometimes twice.

“Is this all you ever eat?” I wondered to our nterpreter, Vladimir Bassis, who – small world – now lives in Ames with his wife, Irina.

What’s your favorite soup recipe and the story behind it? Tell us in the comments, upload recipes in announcements or link up with the Patch community and start a blog for foodies.

No, he said. They’d heard Americans were over the moon about borscht – an assessment that doesn’t jibe with the reality of turned-up noses and promises to blow the beets if forced to consume it – and they wanted to please us.

I like borscht. I also like parsnips, Brussels sprouts, lima beans, eggplant and cauliflower – which is to say borscht is an acquired taste.

“What’s in it?” I wanted to know.

“Anything that walks or grows,” he replied.

Love that leeway.

Borscht Beth's Way

This is helpful, but not necessary: Gather a half dozen Ukrainians in your kitchen five to six hours before you plan to eat. Add vodka. Not the wussy, lame Smirnoff. Stolichnaya at an “Absolut” (get it? Absolut) minimum, but you may as well go for the top-drawer stuff like Armadale or Jewel of Russia.

As you’ve introduced vodka, having Ukrainians in your kitchen to do all the cutting and chopping will be a good idea. Plus, these people understand what to do with dill weed like no one you’ll ever meet. If you’re lucky enough to know Ukrainians willing to cook for you, they will likely take it from here.
Don't try to stop it. There is not one solitary thing you can do about this.
Just camp out on the sofa, drink more vodka, listen to the pleasant lilt of their Slavic voices and wait for a comforting aroma to fill your home.

You won’t understand a lot of what they are saying, but if they start talking about “no preservatives” and the women begin giggling uncontrollably about how they prefer it without preservatives, they’re not talking about how to extend the shelf life of the borscht.

The summer my Ukrainian friends spent in Iowa, it took me two weeks to figure out what was so hilariously funny about a bottle of beer without preservatives.

They were talking about condoms.

Well, who knew a “preservative” and a prophylactic are the same? When you put it that way, I don’t want it in my beer, or my borscht, either.

But enough about that. You want to know how to make the soup if there are no Ukrainians on hand to make it for you. Are you ready?

Fill a large stock pot about halfway with water (about 6 quarts). Add a beef bone and bring it to a rapid boil, then reduce heat to a simmer. If you want to soup to be meaty, cut a strip of sirloin steak in ¼-inch wide ribbons, then cut those ribbons crosswise to dice into ¼-inch pieces. Add to the stock.

Meanwhile, sauté a medium onion in bacon (or vegetable or canola oil if you’re down on bacon or just want to reduce the fat content) until the onion is transparent. When done, drain the fat and crumble the bacon (if you’ve used it) and add to the stock with:

• 6 cloves of crushed garlic (more or less, depending on taste)
• 1 package of fresh dill weed (Iowa-based Mariposa Farms is a good source) or several shanks from the garden when in season, chopped finely

• 2 juicy tomatoes, diced (or one small can tomatoes – consider no-salt added varieties)
• 1 small head cabbage or ½ head of cabbage, shredded
• 2 or 3 potatoes, shredded
• 1 or 2 celery ribs, chopped
• 2 carrots, shredded
• Coarse ground pepper and salt (optional) to taste

About an hour before serving, add three or four shredded beets. If you add them too soon, they will lose their flavor and color.

About five minutes before serving, add a few tablespoons of cider vinegar to the soup, depending on your taste. Garnish with more dill weed – there's no such thing as too much dill – and serve with a dollop of sour cream.

(Stir it, and the soup turns pink. This is an unncessary detail, but worth passing along because it gives you a chance at visual you just don't see every day of the week – a big, burly 6-foot, 10-inch, 250-pound man begging, practically salivating: "When are you to make the pink soup?")

Remember, borscht is not an exact science. It's already nutritious and would sustain you through a hard winter in the Tundra, but consider punching it up even more with leeks, parsnips, turnips, navy beans or whatever else you have on hand that’s good for you.

This soup gets better the longer it cooks. Some cooks prefer preparing the vegetables separately so they retain their own flavors, others prefer to let them meld.

“Yesterday’s borscht” always tastes better than today’s, plus refrigerating it overnight gives you a chance to skim away any animal fat that may have solidified at the top. Borscht also freezes well.

One more thing:

подобається борщ