'For every Ukrainian, borscht triggers deep memories and feelings of kinship. A delectable meal in itself, a bowl of borscht represents family and sustenance, and connects us to home, wherever we find ourselves.’ So writes Olia Hercules (who is Ukrainian) in Summer Kitchens and it is proof, if proof be needed, that this Eastern European soup is so much more than a mere dish. Devoured in myriad forms from Warsaw to Sakhalin, St Petersburg to Odessa — as well being an integral part of the Ashkenazi Jewish culinary diaspora — borscht can be served hot or cold, in colours ranging from light green to deep purple, with a consistency that can be consommé thin or thick enough to eat with a fork. ‘The variations are endless,’ says Olia. ‘Multi-layered, complex flavours; sweet and deeply savoury, often a little hot — but sourness is what defines an excellent borscht today.’
For here is a soup that can soothe and satisfy, cool and refresh, invigorate, embolden and delight. And the pages of literature, both Ukrainian and Russian, are stained pink with the stuff. Who can forget Nikanor Ivanovich, in Mikhail Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita, and his vast marrow bone, ‘quivering and split down the middle’, hidden deep inside ‘the thick volcanic borscht’? It’s a dish so iconic, so laden with history and culture and identity that when maggots are found in the meat meant for the sailor’s borscht in Sergei Eisenstein’s Battleship Potemkin, it sparks a mutiny. The rebel leader is executed, but his fellow navvies leave his lifeless corpse out for all to see. By it, a note: ‘For a spoonful of soup.’
As to what defines borscht, the only real uniting factor is beetroot — and usually some sort of souring agent. Kvas, or fermented beetroot, is perhaps the most widely used, but everything from tomatoes and sour cherries to Mirabelle plums and green strawberries can be added. Vegetables might be as simple as onion, carrot and beetroot or follow the seasons, moving from potatoes in winter to spring greens, wild garlic, sorrel, nettles and spring onion. The stock can be mushroom, beef, pork, chicken or goose. Or, in the case of Tsar Nicolas II, three stocks, a mix of veal, morel and goose and prune, on top (or alongside), brisket, roast duckling and sausage. Salt pork, oxtail, smoked bacon, liver and varenyky (Ukrainian dumplings) are also popular. To finish, a lavish handful of dill and parsley and a great dollop of soured cream.
It is, of course, the national dish of Ukraine and evidence points to its being born there, too. Russia would disagree, but there was a Kyiv, as the old Ukrainian saying goes, when Moscow was little more than ‘a wheel track in a forest’. And as food historian Alan Davidson points out, ‘there are more kinds of borscht in Ukraine than anywhere else’.
‘Before the full-scale invasion,’ Olia tells me, ‘we’d say things like: “Borscht is in our DNA.” Afterwards, it became apparent to us that these were not just words.’ She pauses. ‘In the first few months after the invasion, no one was thinking about eating or drinking. But one day, my mother sent me a message saying: “We finally cooked today. We finally ate.” That dish was borscht. ‘It’s in our genetics not merely to love it,’ said her mother, ‘but to gain strength from it.’ Olia agrees. ‘It’s a life-giving thing for us. It’s there in our bones, and in our bone marrow.’
Babushka Lyusya’s Ukrainian winter borscht
This recipe is from Olia's maternal grandmother, Lyusya. The ‘correct’ colour, she insisted, was a ‘deep and dusty rose’, from the giant local tomatoes. She specified borschtoviy buriak, bright pink and white ‘borscht beetroot’. As regards the consistency, Lyusya ‘was a staunch proponent of an intensely thick borscht’. The soup will taste even better the next day.
Serves 4
Ingredients
- 2 onions
- 3 large carrots
- ½ celeriac or 2 stalks of celery
- 4 allspice berries, roughly crushed
- 10 peppercorns
- 2 bay leaves
- 2kg oxtail
- 2 beetroots (preferably the pale variety, but the red kind will do), peeled
- 1 tin chopped tomatoes
- 1 tin red kidney beans
- 4 medium potatoes, peeled
- ½ small green cabbage, liced
- 1 clove garlic
- ½ bunch dill, chopped
- Sour cream or crème fraîche to serve
Method
- Fill a large pot with cold water. Halve one onion and add it to the pot. Roughly chop two carrots and the celeriac and add them, together with the allspice, peppercorns and bay leaves. Add the oxtail and a good pinch of salt.
- Bring the water to the boil. Skim the froth and discard it. Turn the flame to low and simmer the stock for 2–3 hours, until the meat separates easily from the bone.
- Meanwhile, peel and finely dice the other onion. Roughly grate the remaining carrot. Cut the beetroot into matchsticks.
- Skim some of the beef fat with a ladle off the top of the stock and pour it into
a large frying pan. Turn the heat to medium and wait for the fat to start sizzling. Add your onion and sauté it gently, stirring from time to time, until it softens and starts to caramelise. Add the carrot and cook for about five minutes. Season with salt and taste — it should be well seasoned. - Add the beetroot to the pan and cook for a few minutes. Finally, add the tomatoes, cook for a couple of minutes and taste. If it tastes too sour, add a pinch of sugar.
- Drain the beef stock into a bowl. Reserve the oxtail, but discard the rest. Pour the stock back into the pot with the oxtail.
- Add the contents of the frying pan to the stockpot with the potatoes and cook for seven minutes over medium-high heat. Add the cabbage and cook for another three minutes. The potatoes should be soft and the cabbage al dente. Finally, grate the garlic straight into the pot and give it a vigorous stir.
- Serve with chopped dill, sour cream on the side and quality bread for dipping.
This feature originally appeared in the December 3, 2025, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe.
