Borscht and Bread–Danielle Cordova

Posted on January 23, 2012


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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