An old post from my other blog.

An interesting lesson I learned from cooking Russian borscht last night for KCM Missions Report Night. First, I love prep. And I’d like to think I’m pretty good at it. I cranked out an entire pot of beef stock (large enough for 50 servings of soup) in less than fifteen minutes. Thank God for big sharp French knives. Thankfully the pot was large enough for two burners, which made cooking easier than I thought, since most home burners are puny and worthless. Second, I realized how much cooking refines your palate. As I was skimming the fat off the stock, I started to season it with sea salt and pepper. At first it was bland. Very bland.

Obviously, it should be when you have a unseasoned pot of beef neck bones, aromatic vegetables and herbs. See, stock is the bedrock, the foundation of French cooking. I’ve only made one other large pot of stock and that was last Thanksgiving when I made a pot of roasted turkey stock for gravy. This time around, I was better equipped. I knew exactly what flavor profile I was looking for in the stock. Unfortunately, I only had two hours to make it. That simply isn’t enough time to draw the flavor from the meat and bones.

Ideally, you should cook this much stock for at least five hours. Those of you who are curious how soups like Sul Lung Tang or French Onion Soup are so delicious, look no further than really good stock. Anyways, I knew I wasn’t going to make restaurant quality stock for this borscht, which, for the recond, is a Russian peasant stew of beets and cabbage. The presenters during the evening kept trying to say that “peasant” meant that this stew was really cheap to make. Generally that’s true, but what “peasant” really means is that it’s humble, day-to-day food rather than haute cuisine. I remember first trying borscht at a Ukrainian eatery two summers ago. Its slight tang from vinegar and the beets, the hearty soup, and richness of the dollop of sour cream, and the freshness of the dill - it’s comfort food at its best.

Back to the stock, I set it to a simmer and slowly started to see the transformation of the flavor – from bland meat-water to a rich soup base that would serve this borscht well. Ten minutes before the guests arrived, I fished out the bones and other ingredients (unfortunately I had neither the time nor the equipment to strain it, which you should do), threw in the beets and cabbage and let it simmer for a few more minutes. Then, I seasoned. I added loads of salt and pepper. More pepper. More salt. Freshly ground pepper. Kosher Salt. Taste. More salt. Taste. Pepper. Pepper. Taste. Taste…

Hm…that’s…about…right….more one more taste.

Now I realized, to be a good cook, you have to know flavor. You have to discern what will taste good to others, not just yourself. This is a struggle for the unseasoned (ha, get it?) cook. I remember those early risottos – bland. I hate that word, but it’s the bane of all beginners. In Korean it sounds hideous – “shing guh wuh”. It’s the worst criticism you can hear as a cook. Of course, the saving grace is that you can always add seasoning, but you can’t take it away. But most times it’s too late to add flavor. Salt and pepper or other spices can’t help you at the end. Flavor must be ingrained into the food, slowly nurtured into the ingredients through gentle heat or seasoning. You can’t save a braised stew with fleur de sel or saffron. You have to gingerly bring out flavor. And that’s the art of cooking.

Finally back to the borscht, I’ll admit it wasn’t the best. I simply didn’t have the time to make Class A stock. But I did the best that I could with the time that I had. One student from Russia who tried the borscht said it reminded him of back home. That’s what I want to hear. But now I know why cooks and chefs go crazy over good food – because they know flavor. It also explains why so many chefs love Asian food, because the flavors of Asian food – Japanese, Chinese, Vietnamese, Thai, Korean, and Indian – are so exotically flavored in the minds of Europeans. I’m glad to come from a strong food culture. Koreans love their food and Korean food is starting to make way in America’s food culture. That’s one of my dreams, to open a top-quality Korean restaurant in the likes of Tabla in New York (haute Indian).

Here’s my recipe for borscht:

Serves 8:

For stock:

4 large beef marrow bones (like the shank)

1 pound beef chuck (for stews), chopped into large pieces

3 carrots, roughly chopped

3 stalks of celery, roughly chopped

1 onion, halved

1 head garlic, halved

3 sprigs thyme

3 sprigs parsley

4 tablespoons olive oil

Sea Salt and Fresh Ground Pepper

The rest:

1 head of cabbage, shredded

8 fresh beets, roasted at 400 degrees or sautéed in saucepan for 40 minutes – peeled, then diced

(I opted for canned beets since they’re cheaper, but try not to use them)

Dash of red wine vinegar

Sour Cream

Freshly minced dill

Sliced crusty bread

1. Heat stockpot over high heat for three minutes, add oil, then brown chuck meat. Add carrots, onions, and celery – heat for 5 minutes until slightly softened. Add a little salt and pepper at this point, then add marrow bones and enough water to cover meat, bones, and vegetables. Make sure water level goes about three inches above solids. Bring to a boil, then lower heat and simmer with pot half open on low heat for three hours. Skim fat that rises to the top with a wide spoon.

2. After three hours, discard solids, but reserve meat if desired (most of you will desire to reserve haha). Bring heat to medium, then taste. Add salt, then pepper. Keep tasting and repeating until the stock is “savory” and “rich”. Then added beets and cabbage. Cook for ten minutes until cabbage is wilted but still has a slight crunch (you may prefer to cook it further, but I don’t like to nuke the cabbage). Turn off heat and let sit for twenty minutes with open top to cool. Portion into large bowls, add a small dash of vinegar for those than want it, add a hefty dollop of sour cream (my personal favorite condiment), some fresh dill, and add a slice of crusty bread. Serve and enjoy.