Recipes, like birds, know no borders. 

Beetroot. Beta vulgaris. Hmm. And borscht. Are you picturing what I am picturing? A weathered babushka – with a babushka – ladling steaming red soup into a tin bowl?

I have that image from actual memory. Not a Grimm’s fairy tale story read to me by my mother on a howling night, but a real live babushka: brown walnut face shyly smiling as she proudly served her national soup to me, a dangerous visitor from the land of Ronald Reagan and Mickey Mouse. 
It was 1985 and I was visiting the USSR with a disparate group of fellow students and older travellers. Instead of going home to Florida and getting some much needed Vitamin D and  a fix of Southern food (fried chicken, sweet potato pie, and, er, Lay’s potato chips) I had travelled during the Easter break from the University of Edinburgh, during the height of the Cold War, for a two-week cultural tour of Moscow and Leningrad. As you do.

The trip was amazing and scary in equal measure. The latter courtesy of an emergency hospitalisation due to a water-borne parasite, as well as being interrogated about my fellow tourists while lying in  a skimpy gown attached to various machines (they thought someone was a drug courier). But that story is  for another time.

I had the borscht in our hotel. And no, that wasn’t what made me sick. The borscht was absolutely delicious. It was about the only thing that was however. That and the black chewy bread we were given at every meal. All other meals were variations on unidentifiable grey gristly bits floating in mystery broth. It was pretty horrid. We only had borscht the one time.

I have always remembered the babushka who served us. It was the only time I ever saw her, and I think that she herself had made the soup. While everyone else looked at us depraved Westerners with a mixture of fear and envy, this tiny frail woman, whose wrists looked like they would snap under the weight of her cauldron, smiled twinkly as she carefully doled out soup to her indifferent, chattering guests. But after we took a sip we all fell silent. It was a special moment. This, the soup of kings and peasants, was a revelation. I suspect that if I had had the guts to follow this woman to the kitchen and indicated my pleasure I may have been rewarded with a seat at her kitchen table. I might have shared a meal in what would have been a cramped and steamy room in one of the anonymous grey high-rise monstrosities that blighted the outskirts of Moscow. But I didn’t.

So this borscht. Although many of us think of it as Russian, or Polish, it may actually be Ukranian. It is  thought that with many dishes, the country with the most variations and geographical tinkerings is the likely originator. And Ukraine seems to have the most. I am not a food historian so I won’t be too adamant but from what I have read I think this may be true.

The borders in Eastern Europe have had their unfair share of redrawing, and its peoples scattered due to war and conflict. So, it is probably fair to say that the origin of borscht is equally divided and scattered. But it is such a fabulously giving and nourishing soup, with the scarlet beet at its heart, that it lives on in many kitchens across the globe. From high-tech stainless steel temples of cooking in richest Moscow, to pokey wee apartments in New York City, and in this rather tired-looking kitchen in Edinburgh: the heady fog of mulched and sweetly savoury vegetables simmering knows no borders.

Nutrition bit: Known for its blood-purifying properties, beetroot has a fantastic disease-fighting profile. At its most basic level it enhances the manufacture of white blood cells, stimulates red blood cell production and improves supply of oxygen to cells. This last point is very interesting because a small but well-conducted 2009 UK study demonstrated beetroot’s capacity to boost muscle stamina, probably because of the abundance of naturally occurring nitrates. This may have implications for athletes as well as ordinary folk going about their daily business, especially those with respiratory problems as beet nitrate helps the body to better use oxygen by boosting blood levels of nitric oxide.

I wouldn’t advise consuming the half-litre a day amount achieved in the study (potential side effects include hives and rapid heartbeat) as we can benefit from eating and drinking much smaller amounts, including lowered blood pressure. And don’t be alarmed if your urine or stool is pinkish or red. Many people are sensitive to the betalain and oxalic acid in beets and will experience ‘beetruria’, which looks scary but is completely harmless.

And if that hasn’t convinced you to include more beetroot in your life, how about this: it may be an aphrodisiac. Since Roman times, beetroot has ranked up there with oysters, asparagus and ginseng (and garlic too, but we won’t go there…) as an engine-starter par excellence. This may be due to its relatively high levels of sex hormone boosting boron (which is also essential for bones). Apparently paintings of beetroot – among other things, ahem – adorn the walls of Pompeii brothels. You have been warned… 

Miss R’s Track of the Week: “Steve McQueen” by M83

 

Originally borscht – or barszcz, as it should properly be called in Poland and Ukraine – was meat-based. Still is really but, like the boundaries of the countries where it is a lifeblood food, borscht comes in many permutations. Including vegan. I even found a recipe calling for such exotics as ginger and orange. But mine is a hodge-podge recipe, one where I have nicked elements from numerous sources to make my own super-healthy version. I relied a lot on this article in the Guardian, as well as recipes like this from polishplate.com. My version is in no way authentic, so please don’t write in berating me for including paprika (which I love), pomegranate molasses and kasha, or excluding lima beans (which I hate) and tomatoes. Feel free to adjust the recipe to your more authentic tastes or the contents of your larder. Soup is like that. Forgiving. 

 

4 medium-sized beets (about 350-400g), peeled

2 red onions, peeled and finely diced

1 carrot, scraped and finely diced

2 stalks celery, finely diced

4 cloves garlic, finely minced

2 tbsp rapeseed oil 

1/2 tsp ground allspice

½ tsp paprika

100 g roasted buckwheat (kasha) – optional

1 bay leaf

About 300g potatoes – new or old, peeled and small dice (you could leave these out and use more carrot and beet, or even use swede)

½ small cabbage, shredded (I used red) – about 300g, cored weight

1.7 litres hot vegetable stock (or good meat stock)

2 tbsp apple cider vinegar or pomegranate molasses (I use 1 tbsp of each)

1 tbsp honey, more to taste

Sour cream, to serve

Beetroot crisps, to serve (bought or home-fried/baked)

 

 

Finely dice three of the beets, finely grating the fourth and putting it aside for later.

 

Heat the oil in a large pan then sauté the onion until softened. Add in the carrot, garlic, celery, diced beetroot, allspice, paprika, kasha and bay leaf. Stir and gently sauté for five minutes, covered. Add in a little stock if it looks like it may stick. After five minutes pour in the stock and add the potatoes; simmer for 10 minutes. 

 

Add the shredded cabbage and the grated beetroot, cooking for a further 10 minutes. When all of the vegetables are tender, stir in the honey and vinegar/pomegranate molasses. Check the seasoning and maybe add some salt and pepper, or perhaps more vinegar.  Serve warm with a spoon of sour cream and dark rye bread. This soup tastes even better the following day, and freezes beautifully. To make it more of a meal, add some cooked white beans. The kasha is something I haven’t seen elsewhere but it adds a little thickness and starchy goodness, especially if you are using new potatoes, or no potatoes.  Serves 6-8. Freezes very well.