Borscht and Bread–Danielle Cordova

Posted on January 23, 2012

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The streets of New York City blended in with the sounds, people, and buildings all stagnant and mobile simultaneously. As my friend Cyrus and I approach the Ukrainian café, I take a moment to let all around us focus; the sense of rush and business put me in a daze and I immediately fell out of the consciousness of the “real” world.

We step into the café and all of reality falls into a quaint easy-going ambiance. As it was our first time dining at a Ukrainian restaurant Cyrus and me hesitantly peaked at the menus. Abruptly I realized how silly I approached the menu and remembered how no matter what new cuisine I try I need to go head first in order to fully not regret cheapening my food experience. I dissect the menu section by section and stumble across, what turned out to be, an uber traditional dish: Borscht soup with a slice of white bread.

Once our orders arrived, I honestly found myself in a familiarly skewed daze only this time the daze acted more as a blissful mist of warmth and comfort. As soon as I sipped the piping hot soup my insides sweltered with that misty bliss; all the chaos of the big city shot out the vast windows and crusty brick walls.

My piece of mind was as simplified as that wholesome slice of Wonderbread.

Before I knew it the sopped up soup floated away from our table and off the haven that created it. I knew finding a fabulous Ukrainian restaurant would pose as tedious—possibly impossible—so this moment, this food experience in NYC, would fail to repeat itself.

But I know for a fact I will never forget that intimate wonder of that Wonderbread and the pungent flushing fuchsia Borscht.

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