borscht kerry we were sitting in the window at some chain bagel place when i told you about the trip i took to new york in college with a bunch of friends and how we went to a famous ukrainian restaurant and i should’ve gotten the borscht, but was afraid of the beets. who knows when i’d have the chance to try authentic borscht again? i told you i hoped to go back there one day and actually order it. you’d never heard of borscht but you looked up a recipe–probably on your phone, you didn’t have a computer then–and made it for me. and it was good. 211213 ... unhinged my dad and my mom's older brother were really the only people in the family that liked it so somewhere along the line my mom or my grandpa would make the christmas eve borscht, depending on where we had christmas eve. my dad was a firefighter and sometimes had to work on christmas eve but would get a two hour meal break where he could take a radio and a station vehicle and have dinner with us. my grandpa's duplex was much closer to his fire station so we would always have christmas eve at grandpa's when dad had to work and his walkie would crackle in the background as he slurped up the borscht almost everyone else would crinkle their noses up at. my grandpa would make a production about how he made it just for my dad and my uncle would pipe up that he liked it too. christmas eve had all its own special food in my family. it wasn't til i moved thousands of miles away that i learned borscht is basically a russian word for generic veggie soup, that beets and sour cream weren't necessarily part of the equation 211213 what's it to you? who go blather from