My Babushka’s Borscht

Some things are inevitable.

It is inevitable that when I buy a new item of white clothing it will be dirty within four minutes of purchase.

It is inevitable that I will spill many a tear on my tacky 80’s pillow when in Russia because I miss kale and nutritional yeast.

It is inevitable that when I go to a club in a back alley in Russia by the name of “Jesus” I will dance with a guy and he will spin me over his shoulder (can someone please explain to me why this keeps happening?).

Most inevitable of all (inevitable-est) is the fact that I am posting a borscht recipe straight from my babushka’s top-secret old Russian woman vault.

Before I left for Russia I made my own borscht, which I liked but knew was far from authentic. My heart skipped a beet (punzzz) the day I came to the kitchen table and my Bab set a bowl of steamy hot borscht down at my place. Cabbage, beets, and the possibility of pink pee? Nothing better. Besides, her borscht is absolutely delicious. Can’t be beet. Alright, I’m done.

I finally got her to spill the juicy details of how to make this soup so damn good. I offered (begged) to help prepare it once but she promptly declined and demoted me to photographer/kitchen stalker while she sliced and diced her way to the masterpiece. My babushka believes her kitchen is her kingdom and my trying to help will cramp her style. We talk a lot about the importance of food as a means of bringing people together and how sitting around enjoying a meal is a tradition which we need to fiercely protect. I still haven’t gotten her to agree to let me help her but her resistance is futile. We will be the greatest cooking team there ever was. It’s inevitable.

My Babushka’s Borscht 

The taste of Russia in your mouth. 

• 1/2 head large cabbage, sliced thinly
• 1 large carrot, grated
• 1 small onion, chopped more finely than you think possible
• 3 potatoes, boiled, peeled, and sliced more finely than you think possible
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 5-6 cups water or vegetable stock
• 3 beets, boiled and shredded (pickled work best!)
• 3 teaspoons salt, or to taste
• 1 Tablespoon fresh dill
• 1 Tablespoon fresh parsley
• chopped green onion to garnish

1. Do all of the chopping. Combine cabbage, carrot, onion, potatoes, garlic, salt and water in a large pot. Bring to a boil then reduce to a simmer and cook for 25-30 minutes. Note: use pre-boiled potatoes and beets or the time will be a bunch longer and much redder.

2. About halfway through add the fresh herbs and shredded beets. Salt to taste. If not using pickled beets and want it to be bitter (the Russian way!), add the juice of 1/2 a lemon.

3. Garnish with green onion and fresh dill. Enjoy the feeling of real Russianness.

My Babushka’s Veggie Fried Rice

In our household, things run like clockwork. No, hold on, I said that wrong. Rather, clocks run like things in our household. There’s no joking around here on 4th Soviet Street, never, no way. [Particularly not when I wear my sparkly kitty sweater].

I come into the kitchen for breakfast sharply at 8:30. Breakfast table conversation can range from my dreams to whatever news is broadcasting on the TV to the weather. Yesterday we talked about her theory that aliens exist and are undoubtedly going to smite earth soon because humans suck (really). I leave for class at 9:00 and if I’m not ready my babushka stands outside my door and waits. If I can’t zip the janky zipper on my boots fast enough she hikes up her bathrobe, bends at the hips, squats on her 74 year old knees and does it for me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I come home between 18:00 and 18:30 (that’s 6:00 and 6:30 PM, noobs) and within two minutes a pot of soup is on the stove heating up. I put on my slippers, wash my hands, and take my place at the table. My babushka commands information out of me regarding my day, which can vary from the weather to my classes to recounting my misadventures dealing with people in public. Yesterday she told me that women lose their ability to have babies after 25. By the time my soup is hot I have been thoroughly quizzed and am thrilled to have something to put in my mouth to turn it from a two-sided conversation to a monologue (hers).

Dinner in Russia a two-part ordeal. After soup there is always a second course. This is one of the most simple and delicious ones my Bab makes. No joking around.

My Babushka’s Veggie Fried Rice

• 1 large onion, chopped very finely
• 1 carrot, shredded
• 2-3 cloves garlic, chopped very finely
• 3 cups cold prepared rice (brown, white, wild)
• 2 Tablespoons sunflower or vegetable oil
• salt and ground black pepper to taste
• fresh dill and green onion to garnish! (optional)

As with all of my babushka’s recipes, everything is done by taste. If she knew how the internet worked and were writing this herself she would stress the importance of doing things “по вкусу.” Nothing should be rigid, you should add as much salt as you like (if you are her, this is a lot). That being said;

1. Heat a skillet over a medium-low flame. Add 1 Tablespoon oil + chopped onion and garlic. Sauté until the onions are lightly browned and smell delicious (~8 mins). Push this to the side of the skillet.

2. Add grated carrot and add a bit more oil to the skillet. Cook 5 minutes or so, stirring occasionally until lightly brown and wilted. Push to the side.

3. Add cooked rice and 1 Tablespoon oil or enough to lightly coat the rice. Cook 5 minutes, mixing occasionally, then mix to combine with the vegetables on the side of the skillet. Cook the rice and veggies all together another 5-10 minutes until lightly browned and smelling delish.

Garnish with fresh herbs and agree with your Babushka that aliens definitely exist.

My Babushka’s Split Pea Soup

You guys know that my babushka is my BFF.

You’ve heard she’s bossy and understand that she’s full of bizarre homeopathic Russian remedies. But did you know she’s an amazing vegan cook? Before I got here I don’t think she knew either.

From time to time she makes fun of me for my bizarre tastes (I brought a smuggled bag of chia seeds out the other day and she had to get on a ladder and tear her raised eyebrows down from the ceiling), but on the whole she’s great at adapting her favorite traditional Russian recipes to my vegan guidelines. Split pea soup (Гороховой суп) is a Russki classic typically chock full of ham and served topped with enough dill to feed a Red Army. Fortunately for me, my babushka’s variation includes only the latter (dill is the new parsley, haven’t your heard?) and is DELICIOUS.

She uses onions and garlic from her husband Igor Konstantinovich’s granddaughter’s dacha (cottage) garden in the country and chops it up so fine it blows my mind. I always tell her my soups never turn out as well because I’m too impatient in my chopping and she looks and me with her glasses on the bridge of her nose and says “well, be more patient.”

That’s the trick to this and all of my Bab’s dishes: patience. I’m learning quickly that the most delicious things in life take time and the best recipes on this blog will never be quick-fixes. She told me earlier this week that she talks to all of her plants so they feel love and don’t get lonely. She cited an incident with a certain aloe plant where she overwatered it then repented for weeks with many a monologue. The point is that she brings care and attention to her food and everything in her life. Tonight I went to her great-grandson Danya’s violin concert with her. Danya is 13 and has a few concerts a month and my babushka doesn’t miss a single one. She takes two buses to get there (about 45 minutes of transit with the waits) and sits through an hour of other kids’ pieces for about 6 minutes of Danya fame. Her patience and willingness to put in time continue to impress me and I’m sure I’ll think back on her fondly some day when I’m eating raw oats with a spoon because I’m too lazy to even microwave them.

My Babushka’s Split Pea Soup

Fresh herbs and patience make this soup. The ingredient list is short so it’s worth investing in both.

• 2 cups dried split peas (горох)
• 2 medium potatoes, diced finely (картошка)
• 2 medium carrots, grated (марков)
• 2 small onions, diced finely (лук)
• a few cloves garlic, minced (чеснок)
• 1-2 teaspoons fresh dill, chopped (укроп)
• 1-2 teaspoons fresh celery, chopped (петрушка)
• 1-2 teaspoons fresh sorrel, chopped (щавель)
• 2 bay leaves (лавровые листи)
• 2-3 teaspoons salt, or to taste (соль)
• black pepper to taste (черный перец)

1. Pour the dried peas in a medium pot and cover with about two times as much water. Place over a medium flame, bring to a boil, then allow to simmer 30-40 minutes, stirring often to avoid burning.

2. Add the potatoes, grated carrot, onions, garlic, and herbs. Add another 2-3 cups water and bring to a boil once again. Boil 10-15 minutes or until potatoes are soft. Soup can be served at this stage but I recommend letting it simmer another 30 minutes or so on a low flame. Once the soup cools it thickens and has the greatest texture. Add water and stir as necessary to avoid burning.

Garnish with more dill (you’re Russian, after all) and devour at least 3 bowls a day. Your babushka would want you to.

Пышки

When I shuffled my dirty purple slippers into the kitchen this morning my babushka greeted me cheerily with a “с днем числа пи.” At first I had no idea what this meant and blinked at her while my пшенная каша (millet porridge) got cold. She tried again. “Числа пи! Числа пи.” She tried harder. “You know, like in math. Didn’t you ever study math?” I thought for a second. “Число” means number or quantity and “пи” is the pronunciation of the cyrillic letter “p” or “п.” PI DAY. TODAY IS PI DAY. MY BABUSHKA KNOWS PI DAY. Never has the sensation for me to hug her been so strong so I proclaimed da and started reciting digits for her. She got bored after 15 (I have memorized up to 60) and offered me some tea. I explained to her the pie/pi thing and told her how I usually bake apple or pumpkin ones on this day.

Well the closest we got this particular Pi Day were пышки (pyshki) – simple but tasty sugar–dusted donuts sold in funny little shops around the city. I’ll have to make them from scratch some time (they’re vegan by nature!) but for now here’s a picture to give you the idea. I enjoyed these little nuggets tonight with my Bab, her daughter, her granddaughter, and her two great-granddaughters. They ain’t no pie but it’s nothing to be irrational about.

Nose Soup

As I write this I have two chunk of onion wedged up my nostrils.

According to my babushka, this is a surefire way to get rid of a cold. According to me, this is a surefire way to make soup in my nose. Either way, everything in St. Petersburg is going to smell like raw onion for the next several days which may or may not be a nice change of pace from damp fur coat stench.

This past weekend I took a trip to Moscow. I would say it was “chill” but at this point cold weather jokes just make me kind of sad, it’s better not to go there. I left Petersburg on the midnight train with my friend Abra and arrived at Leningrad Station around 7 AM Wednesday. Cold and disoriented, we made a beeline to Red Square (pro: deserted and saw the sunrise. con: awake 7 am).

We spent the day wandering around the Kremlin, St. Basil’s Cathedral, and Church of Christ the Savior. Fun fact: the aforementioned church was destroyed in the 1812 war with Napoleon and was made into a swimming pool under Stalin. The church was reconstructed in its original form and place in the late 90′s. My babushka told me that she swam in said pool in the 60′s. Reason #264 why my babushka is the shit.

Thursday we went to the RUSSIAN SPACE MUSEUM. I was incredibly excited because a) I have a huge not-creepy-okay-kinda-creepy crush on young astronaut Yuri Gagarin [first man in space! c'mon, sexy!] b) I clearly love all things nerdy and Russian. The nerdier and the Russianer, the better. c) I am fascinated by space and would be on my way to becoming an astronaut if not for b.

[floating fruits, jumpsuits, Soviet hugs-this is everything I like.]

While in Moscow, Abra and I made a pact to spend as little money as possible and only indulge in necessary items (beer). We ended up eating grechka (buckwheat groats) for dinner all three nights. A 900 gram bag (2 lbs) costs 50 rubles ($1.60) and when cooked makes a huge ass pot filled to the brim. We had an eating contest which I promptly won then resolved never to eat grechka again. Until the next day.

Friday we went to the Tretyakov Gallery and the Park of Fallen Heroes. The Park is this nuts sculpture garden where they deposited a bunch of old and suddenly unwanted Soviet statues after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Basically there are a million statues/busts of Lenin, Stalin and ol’ man Gorbachev. I obviously took the opportunity to go around and pick each of their stony noses.

Obviously.

As for me, I’m off bed so this sniffle doesn’t turn into something worse. Or so it’ll turn into something better. That is, if onion soup is your thing.

St. Petersburg is Melting

St. Petersburg is melting.

The roofs are dripping, puddles are becoming lakes, my feet are soaked. The temperature is a whopping +2 C (36ºF) and I’m wearing a T-shirt. There is sweat on my lower back. Is it actually possible that springtime is around the corner? While my babushka and her fur coat would point to no my cotton gloves and single pair of pants point to yes. Today I felt the warmth of the sun on my skin and lemme tell ya, ladies and gentlemen, it felt GREAT. All of you in warm climates (Wisconsin this season, jigga whaaat) can enjoy your year-long nice weather but I can assure that when 40º comes in Russia I will be dancing in the streets and hanging from the Bronze Horseman in a bikini. St. Petersburg: brace yoself.

Since my brush with giardia last Monday (okay, exaggeration of the century, don’t care) this week has taken a turn for the better. Wednesday we had a 10 AM tour and tasting at the Baltika beer factory which ensured sloppy drunkenness by noon. When I stumbled home I was delighted to find that my babushka made кислый щи (“sh-chi,” sour cabbage soup). I am not sure whether she noticed when I spilled half of my bowl and proceeded to slurp it off the table but she did offer me seconds.

Since then I’ve been enjoying the soup leftovers with сушки (“sushki”) galore. Sushki are the miniature bagel crackers seen below. I like to bite them off of my fingers one by one (edible jewelry is very high on my list of things everyone should enjoy, along with interpretive dance battles, kale, yelling Nelly lyrics at people, swimming places you’re not supposed to, and discussing the end of the world with babushkas).

You may have heard that elections are tomorrow or maybe you even sawPutin’s big ol’ head in the NYT. Aside from the ridiculous(ly sexual) ads that have been circulating recently the Russians I know aren’t too worked up about it all. In fact, 99% of them have said that they’re 99% sure Putin will win and think it’s probably for the best. The other candidates are lamer than the Everybody Loves Raymond rerun I saw playing in a Fidel Castro-themed bar yesterday. [Seriously, Russia?]

Anyway, while springtime may not be imminent in Russian politics I personally am closer every day to remembering shorts and weening myself off of vitamin D pills (gotta say, I love the D). Maybe next week I’ll even swim in the Neva.

That is, if the ice has melted.