Borsch

The sounds in my office just changed.

Again and again, the rain pounds against roof, gutters, windows, heralding Fall? Spring?

It's muddy and we're all craving fall tastes - apples, stews, soups.

I'm getting in a good supply of beets, carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, cabbage - just the things I need for batches of borsch, which will freeze well and take us back to summer on cold winter nights.

Borsch is not what we think of here in America. The borsch I crave is not smooth, sweet and chilled. The borsch I make is winter borsch, brimming with vegetables and textured and can be served with sliced meat mixed within, or just as is. With sour cream. And dark bread.

Each part of Russia/Ukraine/Belorus (and maybe other, surrounding areas) has its own version of borsch. The type I make is a bastardization of a Moskovskii Borsch, blended with a version that I was taught when I lived in Krasnodar.

If you have the steam of borsch clouding your kitchen, with odors of summer's bounty, it's easy to keep the changing seasons at bay.