Such a poignant and important post. Our family elders teach us so much. My maternal grandmother wasn’t much of a cook, even though she ran a restaurant in Brooklyn years before Brooklyn was what it is now. She made us “chopped meat,” AKA “hamburgers,” which is really all I can remember her cooking. My own mother taught herself how to cook and made everything from unctuous lasagna to succulent roast chicken and pot roast to Chinese bbq pork--hanging pork tenderloins on hooks inside our oven. No--we were definitely not kosher, but boy did we eat well. And she made the most delicious cold borscht in the summer--tinted pink from the sour cream and served somewhat chunky in tall chilled glasses. Food memories are so important. I hope I’m imparting them to my own now-adult children. I love your posts. Please keep writing.❤️
What a loving tribute to your late grandmother and your father. They would be so proud of all that you have achieved, especially in your culinary career!
My late mother, who was originally from Poland, didn't serve us Borscht as a soup. Instead, we would drink it cold and from a glass, with the little slivered pieces of cooked beets, lingering at the bottom. It was usually served as an accompaniment to a potato main dish or soup.
Sitting here with tears running down my face after reading your touching story. I never met my Babushka, as she passed before I was born. In her 56 years she was pregnant 15 times and saw 13 of her babies grow up but lost 2 of them before she passed in accidents. Now just my mom and one aunt survive from that generation. I ask my, now senile, mother how to make borscht but she tells me something different every time. So I am in search of a great recipe for it.
My children are away at their mother's for the holiday's. Making borscht for myself, wishing my family was here with me.
Always just cooked everything in the pot. Going to try the oven roasting method, debating just using some honey or sugar or blending some dates with the rest of the stuff or dragging myself out in the snow to get some prunes.
Craig, reading your comment on this post felt like a gift. I've been thinking a lot about my babushka lately, so it's perfect that a notification popped up just in time for Christmas, inviting me to revisit this recipe. I'm sorry to hear you never had the chance to meet your babushka, but being the mother of 13, I'm sure she was a fantastic woman, just like mine.
I’m also away from my family this year, all of them back in Brazil, so I’m spending a quiet few days—cooking just a little and perhaps drinking more wine than I should. I hope that somehow, wherever we are, you can feel that we're together in our solitude. I wish my family were here with me, too.
As for the recipe, the prunes are Rosa's secret touch, but honey will do just fine. Save the prunes for next time—hopefully without the snow, haha! I really hope you enjoy the roasted version of Borscht—it’s my favorite because it’s so much more complex and rich. Please do come back and let me know what you think. Oh, and don’t forget the vinegar! Rosa will be upset if you do!
Thank you so much for reading my newsletter and taking the time to write. It truly means the world to me.
What a lovely, genuine story. And a beautiful picture of you and your babushka. Thank you for the recipe I will make this for my father who adores borscht.
The prunes are a surprise! A lot like my Ukrainian grandmother’s recipe too. I also love it cold in summer. Will make it soon. Thanks. 🇺🇦
Such a poignant and important post. Our family elders teach us so much. My maternal grandmother wasn’t much of a cook, even though she ran a restaurant in Brooklyn years before Brooklyn was what it is now. She made us “chopped meat,” AKA “hamburgers,” which is really all I can remember her cooking. My own mother taught herself how to cook and made everything from unctuous lasagna to succulent roast chicken and pot roast to Chinese bbq pork--hanging pork tenderloins on hooks inside our oven. No--we were definitely not kosher, but boy did we eat well. And she made the most delicious cold borscht in the summer--tinted pink from the sour cream and served somewhat chunky in tall chilled glasses. Food memories are so important. I hope I’m imparting them to my own now-adult children. I love your posts. Please keep writing.❤️
What a lovely story. Thank you for sharing her with us. ❤️
What a loving tribute to your late grandmother and your father. They would be so proud of all that you have achieved, especially in your culinary career!
My late mother, who was originally from Poland, didn't serve us Borscht as a soup. Instead, we would drink it cold and from a glass, with the little slivered pieces of cooked beets, lingering at the bottom. It was usually served as an accompaniment to a potato main dish or soup.
Sitting here with tears running down my face after reading your touching story. I never met my Babushka, as she passed before I was born. In her 56 years she was pregnant 15 times and saw 13 of her babies grow up but lost 2 of them before she passed in accidents. Now just my mom and one aunt survive from that generation. I ask my, now senile, mother how to make borscht but she tells me something different every time. So I am in search of a great recipe for it.
My children are away at their mother's for the holiday's. Making borscht for myself, wishing my family was here with me.
Always just cooked everything in the pot. Going to try the oven roasting method, debating just using some honey or sugar or blending some dates with the rest of the stuff or dragging myself out in the snow to get some prunes.
Thanks so much for sharing.
Craig, reading your comment on this post felt like a gift. I've been thinking a lot about my babushka lately, so it's perfect that a notification popped up just in time for Christmas, inviting me to revisit this recipe. I'm sorry to hear you never had the chance to meet your babushka, but being the mother of 13, I'm sure she was a fantastic woman, just like mine.
I’m also away from my family this year, all of them back in Brazil, so I’m spending a quiet few days—cooking just a little and perhaps drinking more wine than I should. I hope that somehow, wherever we are, you can feel that we're together in our solitude. I wish my family were here with me, too.
As for the recipe, the prunes are Rosa's secret touch, but honey will do just fine. Save the prunes for next time—hopefully without the snow, haha! I really hope you enjoy the roasted version of Borscht—it’s my favorite because it’s so much more complex and rich. Please do come back and let me know what you think. Oh, and don’t forget the vinegar! Rosa will be upset if you do!
Thank you so much for reading my newsletter and taking the time to write. It truly means the world to me.
Abraços,
Jaíne
What a lovely, genuine story. And a beautiful picture of you and your babushka. Thank you for the recipe I will make this for my father who adores borscht.