A COMFORTING BORSCHT STEW
Some good news! A small ask! And Eastern Europe's beloved stew—because the best things in life take time.
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Hello!
It’s bitterly cold across New York, and I’ve had a sweet boy home sick with me for most of this week. I’m almost sure I was writing the same things last February, only this February is last year on steroids—complete with ice storms, high winds and fevers.
Somehow—among the snow days and sick days—I finished my new book proposal late last week (HOORAY!!) It took a small miracle and the incredible support of my sister, Jenny, who sat on the phone with me across the country many times over the last two weeks, saying, “You can do it; you’re so close; keep going.”
I haven’t needed this kind of prodding in the past. I adore my work; much of it flows out of me like water, especially my first three books. I work hard at it, don’t get me wrong—writing and rewriting, testing, and re-testing to get things right takes so much time, effort, and accuracy. Then there’s the photography and packaging, promoting and selling. It is a lot, and for most authors like me, this falls on a team of few and at many stages one—with limited help. But still, it’s a joy. (“If you love what you do, you'll never work a day in your life….” they say).
This book is a different kind of project—two decades in the making. It’s a story I dearly want to share. My mission for telling it is pure. Most importantly, it’s a book I think the world needs. For these reasons (and at this point in my life/career), the stakes feel higher. I’ve already put more into this than I’ve put into any professional project to date, and it’s not even out of the gate yet.
So here is my humble ask: wish me luck, send good vibes, say a prayer. This is the book I’ve always wanted to write for you, and I can’t wait for you to have it.
These last weeks, on breaks between long stretches at the desk, I’ve made all our favorites: morning bowls and my best muffins, nourishing soups, stews, dal, and dosas. I kept baking and cooking—more than any winter before.
Amid the feeding frenzy, I got a note from a dear friend, another cookbook writer, who was staying with her sister in NYC. “We’re making your borscht (from Instant Family Meals). It’s so good!!" she wrote.
Borscht—yes, borscht! This note came to me like a beacon on a day I couldn’t write anymore, when I wasn’t sure my words and effort mattered. I stepped away from the desk and put on a pot of slow-simmering borscht as if to prove to myself, if to no one else, that this work matters. It heals and nourishes people. It preserves history and traditions. It creates a connection.
Food and food writing can do all of that.
I’ve loved many borscht soups in my day: cold and refreshing, thin and brothy from Petrossian just south of Central Park, which András brought (me with a perfect dark chocolate pecan cookie!) every time he picked me up from the airport when we were dating.
Later, the borscht in Instant Family Meals, which my friend wrote to me about, became our go-to—not the vegetarian version we’d eaten as a couple, but the heartier version Ukrainian and Russian mothers know puts meat on their babies’ bones and keeps their bellies warm through a long winter.
Last week, instead of the usual beef short ribs (always rich and delicious), I threw in a lamb shank I’d found at our favorite butchers. The results were equally phenomenal. The bone gives an excellent flavor to the broth and lends fall-off-the-bone tender morsels of meat to this vegetable-rich stew. It said everything I needed it to speak to me on a snow day, with kids home and my mind buzzing about how much longer I could keep up the juggle. It’s said yes, keep going—ancient cultures and oft-misinterpreted cuisines are worth celebrating and sharing; the best things in life take time.
The magic of borscht is that it is earthy and beef-stew-esque when it first comes out of the pot but turns shockingly bright pink as it cools, particularly when reheated and served the next day. Borscht is vibrant—life-giving.
I store leftovers in giant wide-mouthed Ball jars and pack them up for friends needing nourishing (new babies, post-surgery, snowed in…). It can be frozen and reheated, stretched when served over rice, and given the royal treatment with a dollop of lush creme fraiche (or sour cream), fresh cracked pepper, and dill.
The recipe is below for paid subscribers (with instructions for beef short ribs or lamb shank). This week, as I send my new book idea out into the world, I can’t state enough the importance of your support. Writing a book proposal is many months and sometimes years of unpaid work, research, and writing. All the while, Substack is my lifeline, and your support keeps my wheels turning.
With gratitude + love.
xx
Sarah
