THE COLOR PINK
This week’s newsletter has nothing to do with breakfast and everything to do with the color pink. Summer and pink go together like toast and jam, like cream and sugar.
During the sixties and early seventies, flower-power was in, and psychedelic colors were all the rage. Combining hot pink and bright orange was “hip”. They adorned everything from lunch boxes to clothes. My childhood bedroom was a study in pink and orange. The bedspread was made out of fuzzy, hot pink fabric trimmed with bright orange tassels. The sheets I slept on, the only ones I ever wanted on my bed, were covered in a pink and orange flower print, with barely a speck of white peeking through. My favorite nightgown, which I wore until it was threadbare and didn’t come close to fitting anymore, was white with cotton-candy pink smocking along the neckline and sleeves.
I am a dedicated fan of the color pink. I like it in all its shades from ballet pink to fuchsia, to deepest raspberry. When my son and daughter in-law got married, I wore a raspberry colored dress. I still have it and have worn it since, to another wedding. Recently, as I’ve pulled out my warm weather clothes, I’ve realized I want to have a pink blouse hanging in my closet next to the white and black T-shirts, one that screams SUMMER!! I’m thinking maybe something in pink gingham, or a white shirt in breezy white lawn embroidered in different shades of pink.
A couple of weeks ago I mentioned a new lipstick I bought from the drugstore. It’s a deep pink called “Petal” from the brand Milani, close to the exact shade of pink as my mother-of-the-groom dress. Come to think of it, the lipstick is almost the same color as the cold beet soup, summer borscht, I recently made.
My mother used to make cold beet soup during the summer. We lived in Baltimore where summers were and still are hot and muggy. The only times I ever felt cool were when our family went to the community swimming pool or I was inside our house where we were lucky enough to have window air conditioners on both floors, a bit of a rarity in the mid-sixties. Even with those air conditioners whirring away each day, my mom kept a stash of cherry popsicles in the freezer for my brother and I to enjoy after we came inside, too sweaty to play outside for another minute. We’d eat those popsicles until our lips and tongues became stained bright pink. See what I mean? Pink and summer, summer and pink. They are one and the same.
In any case, when my mother made that cold borscht out of beets I thought it was weird. Soup is supposed to be served hot, right? Soup is a winter-ish, warming kind of thing to eat when it’s cold outside. Cold soup just struck me as odd when I was a kid. I tried to not hate eating that cold beet soup in part because I wasn’t a fan of the way beets tasted. I tried to like cold beet soup because I loved its deep magenta color. And I loved my mom. But back then, beets, like many vegetables, were not my favorite type of food.
Needless to say, that was a long time ago. My tastes have changed, as they tend to do with age. Now I enjoy eating beets and other cold soups like cantaloupe and cucumber with mint and the classic, silky French Vichyssoise, made from potatoes and leeks. Probably though, one of the reasons I like making and eating cold borscht is that borscht reminds me of my mother, just like the first hot days of summer remind me that once again it’s cold soup season.
Like most soups, garnishes are important. Keep it simple like I did and simply add some chopped fresh dill. Or, turn your bowl of cold borscht into a meal by topping it with quartered hard boiled eggs, sliced, cooked new potatoes, chopped scallions, and a dollop of sour cream.
As always, I hope you enjoy this post and are inspired to make this recipe. I’d love to know if you have a favorite summer soup that helps you beat the heat or takes advantage of summer produce.
SUMMER BORSCHT, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS COLD BEET SOUP
YIELD: 4 CUPS/1 LITER
INGREDIENTS:
2 bunches of beets, about 8 total
½ red onion, sliced thin
4 large garlic cloves, peeled but left whole
1 teaspoon Diamond Kosher salt or 2 ¼ teaspoon table salt
2 cups/500 ml plain Kefir
Water, enough to cover the beets by a couple of inches
INSTRUCTIONS:
Wash the beets and trim off the stem ends if attached. Place in a pot that will hold enough water to cover by a few inches.
Add sliced red onion, garlic cloves, and salt.
Place pot on stove over high heat. Bring to a boil then reduce heat to medium. Continue to cook until beets are tender and cooked through. If a fork can be easily inserted into the beets then they are thoroughly cooked.
Strain beets and onions through a strainer making SURE to catch the beet “broth” in a bowl placed beneath the strainer.
Allow beets to cool.
Once cooled, remove the skin from the beets using a small paring knife. They will remove easily. Alternatively, use an old kitchen towel to rub the skin off the beets. The towel will be permanently dyed pink.
Grate the cooked beets on the large holes of a box grater and place them into a clean bowl. Using a large chef’s knife, finely chop the cooked red onion and garlic cloves and add to the beets.
Add the kefir and stir to combine.
At this point you can decide if you want to use some of the beet “broth” to thin out your soup. You can add as much or as little as desired depending on the consistency you prefer.
If you have leftover beet broth save it. You may want to thin the soup out over the next few days or reuse the broth for your next batch of beets.
Chill the borscht for several hours to overnight before serving. It will keep in the refrigerator for up to three days.