My father always used to love making cold beet borscht. He loved boiling the beets and peeling off their skins. Loved his red cuticles he wore as a badge of honor afterwards. Loved the fresh dill. Loved the sour cream (this was in the days before we knew about yogurt). Last Saturday night they made the most extraordinary cold beet borscht at Meadow Lark Farm Dinners. The light’s glow from the passing storms made the color every more amazing. Alberto Sabbadini with his decidedly nonchalant attitude served up a small glass for me and drizzled it with yogurt and olive oil. I took the glass back behind Ella (their bus) and and shared it by the pond in the rain with my father.
Afterwards the pile of used spoons were a perfect still life sitting to be washed. Also loved the plate that someone obviously used their finger to wipe up the bowl. Then the borscht stain on the grass.