Borscht in Snow

Making soup is like playing matchmaker. You try to pair  ingredients into a lively but sustainable relationship.  Sometimes things go together. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes opposites attract.  Sometimes like attracts like.  There isn’t a consistent formula.

Not that I’m an expert, I’m a guy.  Even worse, I’m a husband. All I know about relationships is that successful ones need a lot of work.

But they all begin the same way.

The partners start out with stars in their eyes, thrilled by the newness of the mixture, whispering about forever and how they complete each other. (Ugh!) After a while the novelty grows thin and they fall back on familiar roles.  One personality starts to dominate.  The other feels underappreciated. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

At this point the less experienced cook gives up and moves onto something new.  The rest of us get to work (therapy).

That’s what happened with my borscht this time. I remembered it as the most beautiful soup I had ever made. The purple of the shredded beets spanned the pale pink of the liquid like the layers of a sunset. I remembered the balance of flavors—the sweetness of the root vegetables complemented by the richly flavored broth.

What I didn’t remember was how the pieces all fit together.

My latest rendezvous with this soup started at Caputo’s, a great produce market here in Chicago’s western suburbs. They had loose beets you could buy in bulk, fresh dill that wasn’t in a ½ ounce plastic container, and an assortment of vegetables that made me think I was back in California …almost.

I hurried home, peeled the beets, tossed them in the cuisinart, combined them with the stock and dill in a covered pot and put the soup on to simmer. A couple of hours later, I finished it with sour cream, put a spoonful in my mouth and… cringed.

It wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t what I had in mind. The broth was full and sweet but the first bite of beets shouted the other tastes into submission. My ingredients were arguing with each other.

No problem. Relationships don’t always run smoothly. Sometimes they need a little assist.

To mellow the flavor of the beets, I added red cabbage. A good start, but it didn’t go far enough. I added more dill, more sour cream, but the soup still wasn’t where I wanted it to be. The beets were just too overpowering. I needed an ingredient that could stand up to them and restore some peace to my stock pot.

Garlic.

Sure enough, a few cloves minced into the borscht brought out the harmony I had been looking for.

Sadly, the beets may have had their feelings bruised a bit and, well, I’m sorry for that.   Whoever said love meant never having to say you’re sorry was just plain wrong. Love means saying you’re sorry a lot—early and often.

How else do you get to the second honeymoon/course?

Note: We have made Holiday soups every year since the late ‘90s, but it wasn’t until my wife’s cousin requested Borscht that I discovered this fabulous soup. Thanks Aaron.

Borscht
(serves 4-6)
2 lbs beets, peeled and shredded
3 cups red cabbage, shredded
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 ½ cups fresh dill, chopped
6 cups stock, vegetable, chicken, beef, your call
Salt & pepper, to taste
1 cup sour cream

1. Put the beets, cabbage, garlic, dill, stock and seasonings into a 3-quart pot, bring to a boil, then reduce it to a simmer and continue simmering for about an hour.
2. Remove from heat and finish by stirring in sour cream.
3. Serve warm, but not hot, with fresh crusty bread and butter.
4. Eat it again the next day.  It tastes even better.

Photo Credit:  Yours truly. The picture doesn’t do the soup justice, but we’ll always have Paris.

Comments? Questions? Requests?  Why? This is a work in progress. Aren’t we all? I’ll be listening and responding. Please be courteous.