Read 1,000 Foods To Eat Before You Die: A Food Lover's Life List Online
Authors: Mimi Sheraton
As might be expected, such gastronomic treasure comes at very high prices—these days dried borovik can fetch about $250 a pound in the U.S. That’s not quite as bad as it sounds, as the mushrooms don’t weigh much; a pound would be an enormous bagful that might spoil (by dampness or by fading) if not used within six months to a year. So powerful is their perfume and flavor that just three or four caps add noticeable strength to a four-quart pot of soup. Even the water in which they are soaked before being cooked can be strained of sand and added to stews or soup, for a valuable belt of richness.
Where:
In Pittsburgh
, S&D Polish Deli, tel 412-281-2906,
sdpolishdeli.com
.
Retail and mail order:
In New York
, Russ & Daughters, tel 212-475-4480,
russanddaughters.com
.
Further information and recipes:
Please to the Table
by Anya von Bremzen and John Welchman (1990);
À La Russe
by Darra Goldstein (1983);
The Oxford Companion to Food
by Alan Davidson (1999);
marthastewart.com
(search polish mushroom soup);
easteuropeanfood.about.com
(search creamed mushroom sauce);
polishwildmushrooms.com
.
In its home countries, cabbage-and beet-laden borshch is usually served piping hot.
Time to set the record straight: Whatever other elements are included in this steaming cabbage-and beet-laden Russian-Ukrainian soup, the letter
T
should not be among them. Never mind the spelling that is standard in the States, where this immigrant legacy of the eastern European Jews is pronounced and spelled as “borscht.”
On native ground, the word is pronounced BORE-sh-ch, with the
sh
as in
shush
and the
ch
as in
cheek
run together almost but not quite imperceptibly—a common sound denoted by the special Cyrillic letter Щ. The name itself derives from the old Slavic word
brsh
, meaning beets, and the earthy rose-red roots are indeed an essential component of any borshch. The exception is a so-called white or green borshch made with cream and leafy greens such as spinach and sour sorrel, much like the Jewish
schav
here
.
To give credit where it is due, the borshch we loosely identify as Russian reaches its apogee in Ukraine, which boasts more than a hundred versions. There are still other regional versions, most notably in Moldava and in other Slavic countries such as Poland, where the meat, beet, and cabbage
barszcz
take the chill off icy winters.
As with other complex soups like gumbo and minestrone, one might come to believe that there’s no such thing as “authentic” borshch. Every cook has a different interpretation. The cold beet soup that we think of in the United States is just one among them. In fact, outside of the United States, one consistent feature of borshch served in the cooler months is a serving temperature best described as volcanic. Designed for the coldest of winters in the coldest of lands, properly presented borshch will be a scalding brew, much too hot to eat until finally one masters the technique of careful slurping, sipping, or inhaling, perhaps with a piece of bread or a dumpling as an aid, before
attempting whole spoonfuls. This much heat presents a challenge, but it enables one to experience the most sublime aromas of leeks, onions, and garlic, the slightly sour edge of shredded cabbage, slivered beets, and the earthy, muffled sweetness of root vegetables such as carrots, celeriac, parsnips, and the white parsley root called
petrushka.
Generally borshch is blushed with tomatoes and buffered with plenty of meat, most lavishly so in Ukraine. There, it might be beef brisket, lamb, or ham, or more likely a combination of meats including garlicky, peppery slices of smoked kielbasa sausage. Potatoes may be added for heft, and bay leaves and dill for their perfume. Those with a marked taste for a winey, sour soup stir in a few drops of the fermented, ciderlike
kvass
(see
listing
). Wine vinegar, lemon juice, citric acid (in the form of sour salt), or even a cut-up unripe pear or apple will also do.
A dish that tastes better twenty-four hours after it is prepared, a good borshch kept cold will improve for as long as a week. A whole boiled potato may be added at serving. Moscovites like theirs garnished with meat-filled
piroshki
pastries while Ukrainians prefer
ushki
, tiny dough-wrapped dumplings much like Italian
cappelletti.
What all agree on is a nice, snowy dollop of cold sour cream right in the middle of the bowl, a cooling counterpart that unifies all of this glorious soup’s diverse flavors into a sublimely satisfying meal.
Where:
In Kiev
, Tsarske Selo, tel 380/44-288-9775,
tsarske.kiev.ua/en
;
in New York
, Mari Vanna, tel 212-777-1955,
marivanna.ru/ny
;
in Brooklyn
, Tatiana Restaurant, tel 718-891-5151,
tatianarestaurant.com
;
in Chicago
, Russian Tea Time, tel 312-360-0000,
russianteatime.com
;
in Toronto
, Suliko, tel 905-760-1989,
suliko.ca
.
Further information and recipes:
À La Russe
by Darra Goldstein (1983);
Please to the Table
by Anya von Bremzen and John Welchman (1990);
epicurious.com
(search russian borscht);
saveur.com
(search polish white borscht);
easteuropeanfood.about.com
(search schav borscht); for a cold version,
foodnetwork.com
(search summer borscht).
Still life with caviar, toast, and lemon.
Dislike capers, anchovies, and canned tuna packed in oil? You can probably stop reading right here—because you’re likely to feel the same about caviar. And you may be better off, as loving caviar means spending small fortunes each time you want to indulge in those tiny, glistening, black-diamond beads that lie silky soft on the tongue, exuding a mysterious essence of deep, dark salt sea with a vague patina of fishiness and the merest hint of earthiness.
In truth, what caviar tastes like is caviar.
And to aficionados, it is unquestionably the single best food in the world.
But even if one is willing to pay top price, the best caviar has become increasingly difficult to find. That distinction belongs to the roe of sturgeon that swim in the Caspian Sea—and unhappily for caviar lovers, Caspian sturgeon is endangered, its fishing virtually banned. There’s an added political twist brought about by the current boycott of imports from Iran, the country that, along with Russia, has exclusive access to and the most experience in processing this top product. All of which means that for the moment, the highest-grade caviar is barely available on the global market, at least not legitimately. (Whether Iranian or Russian caviar can come through other countries as a legal import is an open question.)
It is still possible to locate good-quality caviar, however, and in the wider realm of roe there are three basic types, each with its devotees and price range. The most highly prized is beluga, the roe of giant beluga sturgeon. These are the largest, roundest, and most succulent eggs, and they are graded for color, the top choice being the crystal-gray eggs in the two-kilo tins with the triple-zero symbol. Double and single zeros mark darker shades, which are generally considered a cut below the gray. The smaller sevruga sturgeon produces suitably smaller eggs that fetch lower prices and are also graded for color. Osetra caviar is usually smaller than beluga and larger than sevruga, its distinguishing feature being its golden brown color and a slightly softer texture.
Nature being what it is, it is entirely possible for the flavor of a particular batch of sevruga or osetra to be better than beluga, depending on the individual fish, the season, the processing, and the salting. It is wise, therefore, to insist upon tasting when buying the world’s most expensive eggs. Caviar imported to the States tends to be saltier than that sold in Europe, primarily because in European caviar borax replaces some of the salt as a preservative. (Borax is prohibited for use in food by the USDA.)
No top-grade product is packed in vacuum jars or even in jars with near vaccum-tight lids. In almost all cases, such caviar has been pasteurized for extended shelf life and is more heavily salted than the fresh kind. The best caviar comes in unsealed but covered tins. At the very least, you should see the caviar before buying it to ascertain that the eggs are whole, shiny, and not wrinkled; that there is no free liquid or milky film in the tin; and that the aroma is not stale or musty but rather a reminder of fresh sea air. Once you have opened a tin or jar, the contents should be eaten within a day or two, as oil will run out of the leftover eggs to fill spaces left when some of the roe is removed.
Caviar that needs no refrigeration is not fresh at all, and thus not even a contender. Pasteurization is a cooking process and caviar is a mass of fish roe or eggs. As with all cooked eggs, caviar will develop a tough outer membrane when heated, rendering it chewy and leaving a skinlike residue on the tongue.
Although most caviar is sold during the fall holiday season, the best caviar becomes available in spring and summer. The egg-laying fish are caught about six months before their roe reaches the market, and fish caught in cold winter waters have more flavor than those caught in the warm summer months.
Serving the most sublime caviar with anything other than blini (see
listing
) or unbuttered, wafer-thin, freshly made toasts and a
squeeze of lemon juice would be profligate. Save the hard-cooked eggs, onions, and sour cream for the lesser impostors, of which there is a growing number as eager entrepreneurs around the world attempt to emulate the Caspian prize. Some have had more success than others, but you can never know without tasting.
Where:
In New York
, Russian Tea Room, tel 212-581-7100,
russiantearoomnyc.com
; Caviar Russe, tel 212-980-5908,
caviarrusse.com
;
in Paris and London
, Caviar Kaspia at multiple locations,
caviarkaspia.com
.
Dine-in, retail, and mail order:
In multiple locations around the world
, Petrossian, tel 800-828-9241,
petrossian.com
;
in New York
, Russ & Daughters, tel 212-475-4880,
russanddaughters.com
.
Further information:
Caviar! Caviar! Caviar!
by Gerald M. Stein with Donald Bain (1981);
Caviar
by Susan Friedland (1986).
Tip:
Caviar’s flavor can be compromised by the touch of silver and most other metals, gold being the single exception; traditional serving implements are made with blades of bone, horn, or gold-plated silver.
Among the sweet and winning dishes invented to commemorate victory in battle, a champion is surely this creamy fruit-and-nut-layered pudding, much loved throughout Russia and a longtime favorite at the original Russian Tea Room restaurant in Manhattan. Its inventor is said to have been one Count Dmitry Guriev, finance minister to Czar Alexander II for more than a decade. It’s hard to imagine what made the good count look at some snowy white semolina grains (similar to Cream of Wheat) and decide that they had the makings of a really great dessert, but the impetus was the Russian defeat of Napoleon’s armies in 1812.
Served hot or cold or anywhere in between, Guriev Kasha (sometimes known as Gurievskaya Kasha) begins with silky semolina grains simmered with sugar and whole milk or cream until tender. The mixture is layered in a baking pan with alternate slatherings of pulverized walnuts and almonds, jewel-like candied fruits, and glossings of a thick fruit preserve, usually apricot or raspberry. (Originally a complicated requirement held that the milk should be simmered and resimmered to produce a series of skins, each of which was placed between the layers, but the practice was eventually abandoned.) Flavored with vanilla or almond extract and topped either with crumbled vanilla wafers or a veneer of brown sugar, the dessert is baked until the top caramelizes to a rich golden brown and its layers meld into an enticing mix of textures and flavors. A splash or two of cold cream over each serving does not go amiss.