The Denver Post

A new front opens in the conflict: borscht

- By Maria Varenikova and Andrew E. Kramer

BORSHCHIV, UKRAINE » The roadside cafe is called Borscht, advertised with a gigantic beetroot red sign, leaving little doubt what people around here like to eat.

The fields are planted with beets. The town is named Borshchiv, which means “belonging to borscht.” It is just one of a dozen cities and villages in Ukraine named for borscht.

Given this clear commitment to borscht, Ukrainians wonder why the soup is commonly assumed to be Russian, a national dish of their archenemy.

Now a Ukrainian chef supported by the Ministry of Culture and Parliament is trying to set the record straight with an applicatio­n to the United Nations’ cultural body, UNESCO, to list borscht as an intangible part of Ukraine’s cultural heritage.

“They can think whatever they like, but borscht is a Ukrainian soup,” said Olha Habro, a grandmothe­r and well- practiced maker of borscht in Borshchiv.

Like the food fight between the Arabs and Israelis over who owns hummus, the dispute sadly divides two neighborin­g cultures over traditions that might have united them. Borscht is enjoyed in both Ukraine and Russia.

This conflict, though, comes with a twist. Even some Russian culinary historians and authoritat­ive Soviet- era reference books on food place the origin of borscht in Ukraine. But after the Soviet Union broke up, Russia seemed to stake more of its own claim to the soup.

A year ago, the Russian government posted in English on its Twitter account a recipe proclaimin­g that “borscht is one of Russia’s most famous and beloved dishes.”

For the chef, Ievgen Klopotenko, it was the last straw. He had already been upset, he said, when friends told him that stores and restaurant­s in Europe and the United States market borscht as a Russian soup.

“A lot of things were taken away from Ukraine, but they will not take our borscht,” he said. “I understood we have to defend what is ours.”

He went to battle, creating a nongovernm­ental organizati­on to assert Ukraine’s sovereignt­y over borscht. The group spent months painstakin­gly gathering evidence that the dish originated in Ukraine and planned cultural events celebratin­g it, including taking a giant caldron around the country to cook borscht at festivals.

Ukraine plans to submit the UNESCO applicatio­n in March. Parliament has passed a resolution in support.

To win recognitio­n from the U. N. cultural body, the Ukrainians do not have to show that borscht is exclusive to their country, only

that it is tightly entwined with their culture in such things as wedding and funeral traditions. And they must show that the soup is consumed widely. Town names also count.

The borscht dispute highlights

deeper grievances

Ukraine and Russia.

Ukrainians see the Russian government, in addition to pursuing a military interventi­on in their country, as trying to appropriat­e the entire cultural heritage of the between eastern Slavic world for Moscow, on such issues as leadership in the Orthodox Church and historical claims to Crimea.

In Western countries, borscht came to be viewed as Russian in part because of the tendency for many decades to conflate Russia, which was only one of the Soviet republics, with all things Soviet.

At home, many Soviet cookbooks identified borscht as Ukrainian, including an authoritat­ive study of ethnic cooking published in 1978, “National Cuisines of Our People,” which listed six recipes, all from regions of Ukraine.

Even the Soviet classic cookbook, “The Book of Tasty and Healthy Food,” first published in 1939 under Josef Stalin, does not describe borscht as Russian. It has only one recipe for the soup indicating a national origin, and that is for “Ukrainian borscht.” The others are specialize­d versions with mushrooms or low in fat, of unspecifie­d origin.

Adding to the confusion, Russians seeking to lay claim to borscht’s origins sometimes cite an entirely different soup that was made in medieval times in Russia from wild hogweed grass and a light beer made from fermented bread.

In rural Ukraine, gardens yield all the ingredient­s. For the winter, Ukrainians preserve sour sorrel leaves in canning jars as a base for green borscht, a version without beets. For funeral wakes, vegetarian borscht is on the menu.

More typically, it is a meaty broth, sometimes so rich a quarterinc­h or so of glistening, liquid fat shimmers on the surface.

Last month Russia seemed to back down — a rarity these days — on any claim of a direct sphere of influence over the soup.

“Borscht is a national food of many countries, including Russia, Belarus, Ukraine, Poland, Romania, Moldova and Lithuania,” the Russian Embassy in Washington posted on Twitter. “Choose your favorite.”

 ?? Photos by Oksana Parafeniuk, © The New York Times Co. ?? Olha Habro, 76, serves borscht in Borshchiv, Ukraine, on Oct. 22. A Ukrainian chef supported by the Ministry of Culture and Parliament is trying to set the record straight with an applicatio­n to the United Nation’s cultural body, UNESCO, to list borscht as an intangible part of Ukraine’s cultural heritage.
Photos by Oksana Parafeniuk, © The New York Times Co. Olha Habro, 76, serves borscht in Borshchiv, Ukraine, on Oct. 22. A Ukrainian chef supported by the Ministry of Culture and Parliament is trying to set the record straight with an applicatio­n to the United Nation’s cultural body, UNESCO, to list borscht as an intangible part of Ukraine’s cultural heritage.
 ??  ?? ” Borscht is a Ukrainian soup,” said Habro.
” Borscht is a Ukrainian soup,” said Habro.

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