It's Winter in my part of the world and we've just had a category 2 cyclone hit the coast. Up here in the hills, it was wet and windy, but not much worse than that. We've been fortunate to not have lost power or had any storm damage, but the weather does turn one's mind to thoughts of warm and stodgy food. Root vegetables are gloriously in season now and we're getting some delicious beetroots, parsnips, carrots, potatoes and the rest.
I'm purposely leaving swedes (rutabagas) out of this collection. They're a vegetable that have resisted my many overtures at friendship. Bitter and distasteful, they do their best to shun my tastebuds, while taunting my eyes with their rotund, yellowy-puple forms displayed so temptingly at the grocer's. We have a tenuous relationship on which I'm choosing not to dwell.
Beetroot, on the other hand, is a firm favourite of mine. I'm becoming increasingly convinced that I must have eaten a lot of dirt as a child and that is why I love the deep earthy taste of beetroot. To me they really do taste like soil; sweetened and glorified. I'm not talking about the over-processed, over-sweetened variety found in tins and plastic bottles. I'm talking about the fresh, dirt-covered variety you find in the fresh food market. The kind you have to wash, peel and cook before you can eat them. The kind that stain your hands the deepest ruby red for days on end. The kind you wear dark colours near even when you're only looking at them... just in case. Real beetroot.
So now you know my dirty secret. My deep and abiding love for the earthiness of beetroot. Given the season, the weather and the availability of my ruby treasures, I thought it was time to venture into some uncharted and politically fraught territory (uncharted for me). I decided to slide down the slippery slope of attempting to make borscht. Let me say from the outset, there are as many ways to make borscht as there are families in Eastern Europe. I must have scanned 50 recipes for it, each one with a detractor commenting at the bottom of the page that "this is not how you make borsch/borscht" (they can't even agree on the final consonant!). In the end, I got the gist of the various recipes and decided to make my own version.
This is NOT a traditional borsch/borscht recipe from anywhere, but I'm hoping it will become a tradition in our house.
Ingredients:
Vegetable Stock
3L water
1 carrot
2 stalks of rosemary
4 bay leaves
2 cloves garlic
2 French shallots or 1/2 a medium sized red onion
salt to taste
Soup
8 - 10 beetroots
1 large nadine potato
2 - 3tsp raw sugar
pepper to taste
150g salted butter
cream to serve
Method:
Make a stock as you would for any soup (if you have chicken or beef stock on hand, you can use that). Allow the stock to simmer and flavours to infuse for at least an hour (the longer you leave it, the richer the flavours - top up the water as you need to).
Peel and chop the potato (large pieces is fine). Add to the stock. Top and tail, peel and quarter the beetroot and add to the stock. Add sugar (I use raw sugar because I like the richer, slightly molasses flavour of it).
Cook for at least an hour (make sure all the vegetables are very soft and easy to mash).
Remove bay leaves and rosemary sticks (the leaves will have fallen off by this stage). Blend the soup with a stick blender (or do in small batches in a blender).
Taste for salt and add if necessary. Add freshly ground pepper and butter. Stir through and taste. Serve warm with a dollop of cream.
NOTE: A chilled version of this soup would be wonderful in Summer.
I'm purposely leaving swedes (rutabagas) out of this collection. They're a vegetable that have resisted my many overtures at friendship. Bitter and distasteful, they do their best to shun my tastebuds, while taunting my eyes with their rotund, yellowy-puple forms displayed so temptingly at the grocer's. We have a tenuous relationship on which I'm choosing not to dwell.
Beetroot, on the other hand, is a firm favourite of mine. I'm becoming increasingly convinced that I must have eaten a lot of dirt as a child and that is why I love the deep earthy taste of beetroot. To me they really do taste like soil; sweetened and glorified. I'm not talking about the over-processed, over-sweetened variety found in tins and plastic bottles. I'm talking about the fresh, dirt-covered variety you find in the fresh food market. The kind you have to wash, peel and cook before you can eat them. The kind that stain your hands the deepest ruby red for days on end. The kind you wear dark colours near even when you're only looking at them... just in case. Real beetroot.
So now you know my dirty secret. My deep and abiding love for the earthiness of beetroot. Given the season, the weather and the availability of my ruby treasures, I thought it was time to venture into some uncharted and politically fraught territory (uncharted for me). I decided to slide down the slippery slope of attempting to make borscht. Let me say from the outset, there are as many ways to make borscht as there are families in Eastern Europe. I must have scanned 50 recipes for it, each one with a detractor commenting at the bottom of the page that "this is not how you make borsch/borscht" (they can't even agree on the final consonant!). In the end, I got the gist of the various recipes and decided to make my own version.
This is NOT a traditional borsch/borscht recipe from anywhere, but I'm hoping it will become a tradition in our house.
Ingredients:
Vegetable Stock
3L water
1 carrot
2 stalks of rosemary
4 bay leaves
2 cloves garlic
2 French shallots or 1/2 a medium sized red onion
salt to taste
Soup
8 - 10 beetroots
1 large nadine potato
2 - 3tsp raw sugar
pepper to taste
150g salted butter
cream to serve
Method:
Make a stock as you would for any soup (if you have chicken or beef stock on hand, you can use that). Allow the stock to simmer and flavours to infuse for at least an hour (the longer you leave it, the richer the flavours - top up the water as you need to).
Peel and chop the potato (large pieces is fine). Add to the stock. Top and tail, peel and quarter the beetroot and add to the stock. Add sugar (I use raw sugar because I like the richer, slightly molasses flavour of it).
Cook for at least an hour (make sure all the vegetables are very soft and easy to mash).
Remove bay leaves and rosemary sticks (the leaves will have fallen off by this stage). Blend the soup with a stick blender (or do in small batches in a blender).
Taste for salt and add if necessary. Add freshly ground pepper and butter. Stir through and taste. Serve warm with a dollop of cream.
NOTE: A chilled version of this soup would be wonderful in Summer.
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