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This is the recipe that Miss Borenchnik insisted that I include on the website. Now, her original was written out in Moscrovian, so I had to translate it into English, and then adapt it to include ingredients with which you will be more familiar.
Now, don’t tell her this, but I put the question mark up there because some of the ingredients are not indigenous to Moscrovia. So, they had to be imported. Therefore, this is hardly a peasant’s soup.
Anyway, for the sake of curiosity, I’ve included some of the original instructions, but they will be italicized and red, so that you don’t confuse them.
Ingredients:
One schruven* full of peeled and boiled beets, with the water in which they were boiled. You must not throw away the water, for that is wasteful and shameful. It is the way of the imperialist! Let the red water remind you of the blood your forefathers shed in the fields. That you yourself shed in the fields for these very beets. In fact, sing the Soldier’s Hymn while you cook these beets. Sing and show your pride and dedication to your mother country.
- About 4 cups (2 14.5 oz cans) of cooked beets, including juice
you will need one wineglass of pure water from virgin stream or fresh melted snow. The water must be the purest possible, or it will ruin the soup, and this is very shameful!
Two buck pinches* of fresh, finely ground pepperberry. These must be as potent as possible, and they must leave your mortar and pestle slightly oily from their grinding. You may use more berries if you like, but no less than two buck pinches. The spice will help your belly stay full through the night, and it will also burn your lips if you try to eat too much of the sweet soup. Shame on any child who over indulges. For, over indulgence is the way of Imperialists. Your delight is to be subtle and quaint but empowered with constant reminders that the world is sharp and hard.
- 1/4 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper
Two thimbles of salt from the Bone Sea. It must be collected under the mourning moon* and distilled in the rays of the angry sun*. The crystals then must be powdered completely, and you must not use more than 2 thimbles of this salt. For, this salt is sacred to our ancestors and to abuse it is an afront to the sacrifice they made, freeing this land from the imperial, wolfish clans. In fact, nobody of lupine heritage should be inside the home when the salt is added to the soup. They must be escorted outside, and then welcomed back in afterward. This symbolizes your forefathers’ glorious victory against the meat eaters, and then their boundless generosity to allow them to share the land after the revolution was won.
- 1/2 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
Two thimbles of powdered sage. This adds a pleasant, earthy flavor.
- 1/2 teaspoon powdered sage
Instructions:
All of these ingredients must be mixed together into a large, glazed earthenware bowl with a lid. Not wood and never metal. Never unglazed, and not blown glass. Do not use the wrong mixing vessel by mistake. For, carelessness is disrespectful to the souls of those who have fought so hard to make this treat a possibility. You must respect them. if possible, the bowl should be blue. White is also acceptable. Never red.
1. All all ingredients to blender
Mash and mix with your favorite mixing wand. It is most favorable for this to be one handed down to you by a grandparent. However, if you are unfortunate enough to not have received a masher from a grandparent, then you must use a six tined fork. Absolutely never use a three tined fork. These are the utensil of choice in the decadent countries across the mountains and near the boiling sea. There, imperialism and idleness reign supreme. No. Either use a proper masher or a humble, six-tined fork. in fact, to remind yourself to be honorable and humble, sing seven verses of the Farmer’s Hymn while you mix. Work until you have reached a desirable consistency, that is uniform and flows smoothly.
2. Blend until liquid
Now, cover the bowl with its lid, seal it with beeswax, and bury it in the snow during the day until it feels cold as ice. Serve it only this cold and never warm. For, when the soup is warm, it loses too much flavor. Allowing this to happen is extremely disrespectful to your proud ancestors, who toiled and fought so hard for you to enjoy your treat.
3. Chill well before serving
One batch of this will serve a very, very humble family. If you find that you only need to make one batch, then perhaps you should reconsider the size of your household. Perhaps, if you can not afford to bring children into this world, and if you can nor afford to feed your own parents and grandparents, then you should reconsider sipping this dessert soup. Perhaps you should invest in some wheat instead, and make bread for your starving family. This soup is only for those who have earned it. So, you may feel inclined to deny it to naughtier children and elderly folk who refuse to keep active. But if you can not motivate your family to act as they should, then you yourself do not deserve this treat. You should eat leeks and roots instead, and sit in silence. Lament your idleness and imperial ways!
4. Serves 5
Personally, I’ve found that this soup does follow a meal as a delightful alternative to some unhealthy sweets. It’s also fantastic on it’s own on a hot summer day. But I warn you. Serving size is about 3/4 of a cup.
Do not eat much more than that.
Do not eat this soup daily.
… Trust me …
Anyway, some definitions of the more curious terms in Anatasia’s recipe.
* A schruven is a large mug from which famly members drink beer when the sun sets. It is traditional that every member of the family have a screuven of their own. It is very personal and unique.
* A “buck pinch” is about 1/8th of a teaspoon, as opposed to a “doe pinch” which is 1/16th of a teaspoon
* “Mourning moon” describes the Winter Solstice, and “Angry sun” describes the Summer Solstice
