Renee Davies / Idaho Statesman Borshch, a Russian beet soup, is a favorite at the Russian Bear Cafe. The soup consists of cabbage, potatoes, carrots, onion, beets, and spices. Although the soup is served hot, restaurant owner Oleg Mironov said this does not affect its popularity in the summer. "When it's really hot outside, there are still people that want it," Mironov said.
Among borshch aficionados, the origins and essential ingredients of this Central and Eastern European beet soup are as varied and hotly contested as chili at a chili contest. There’s Russian borshch, Polish borshch, Jewish borscht, hot borshch, cold borshch, thick borshch, thin borshch, meaty borshch, meatless borshch and borshch without beets. There’s also little to no consensus on the spelling of the actual word: borscht, bortsch, borstch, borsh, barszcz, borsch or borshch.
In deference to Oleg and Svetlana Mironov of Russian Bear Cafe in Eagle, I’ll go with borshch. It’s the way they spell it – and with beet soup as good as theirs, I’ll trust the Mironov’s culinary literacy.
Lighter than many versions, their vegetable based borshch is clear, seemingly uncomplicated, even a little insipid at first slurp. But flavors blossom with each bite like shapes rising out of Eurasian shadows. By spoonful number three, I could sense the dill, the bay, the rising heat of black pepper and the sweet earthiness of beet, cabbage and onion. An occasional nip from a dollop of sour cream floating autonomously in that ruby-red broth gave this meatless soup a little zing and welcomed substance. By the bottom of the bowl, I was hooked.
Accompanying that borshch as a lunch combination ($10.76) was a simple, savory blini or crepe. With a deli ham and cheese filling, it was only a degree or two more exotic than a sandwich shop ham and cheese, but the blini itself was thick, chewy and, like that borshch, grew more interesting with each bite.
The equally simple sweet blini, a tight, jam-filled cylinder dusted with confectioner sugar and a drizzle of chocolate sauce, was a pleasant end to a modest but decidedly different meal.
Russian Bear Cafe is as unpretentious as that lunch. Hidden in a leafy little mall off Eagle Road, this small, too-often-empty restaurant houses photos of onion-domed skylines, recorded Russian music and tablecloths draped in clear plastic. The kitchen is small and the microwave isn’t unused, but the Mironovs cook from scratch and much of what they bring to table is unseen in the rest of the Treasure Valley.
On another visit, I can’t say I was enamored of an oily Black Sea Salad ($5.25), the pale perogies ($11.25) and a rather bland stroganoff ($17.35). But I loved the bacon-wrapped, fried cheese and dried apricot appetizer ($6.25); pickled, spicy carrot strips ($4.50) and a side of roasted grains.
Renee Davies / Idaho Statesman Oleg Mironov and his wife Svetlana Mironov are the owners of the Russian Bear Cafe.
A stuffed cabbage entree ($15.95) had the same slowly building flavors I’d experienced at lunch. Two cabbage rolls filled with a light, meatloafy mixture of turkey, beef and rice came squiggled with sour cream and surrounded with a shallow pond of light tomato broth. It was, like the lunch soup, all about harmony, a mellow, mild first bite building to a surprisingly satisfying finish.
Oleg Mironov says the Russian north is known for homey, understated fare. The south, he says, gets a bit more bold.
The sorrel soup special ($4.95), no matter its actual provenance, was zippier than anything I’d had on previous visits. That leafy green with its surprisingly tart flavor, gave this clear broth a refreshing, eye-popping tang. Mironov says it’s a traditional summer soup often served lukewarm or cold. With bits of parsley, chunks of potato, chopped hard-boiled egg and another ubiquitous dollop of sour cream, it was a delectable green counterpoint to the mellower beet borshch.
The Russian-style smoked pork ribs special ($11.94) also had extroverted flavors. Three large, fatty ribs rich with smoke arrived with what Mironov called his grandmother’s secret sauce. Red, spicy, but lacking the cloying sweetness of many American barbecue sauces, it gave a sharp, garlicky bite to those deliciously greasy ribs.
You may have to prowl around the menu to find dishes that suit your palate and let those often subtle flavors build. But if you do, Russian Bear Cafe will prove worth the effort.
Read more: http://www.idahostatesman.com/2010/07/16/1268989/try-the-borshch-at-russian-bear.html#ixzz0tql8q6tR
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Guy Hand is a writer, public radio producer and photographer specializing in food and agriculture. |
Guy,
Thanks for all your restaurant reviews. They were the first place I turned when I was looking for an interesting lunch place on the west side of town. I selected two possibilities and had my lunch companion make the final decision. He was all over the Russian Bear, so we had lunch there yesterday.
I’m trying to forget the borshch so I don’t drive to Eagle every day. The peppery-oniony-beety goodness was exactly the comfort food I needed on a wet drippy Idaho winter day. The whole lunch special and appetizers were delicious and hit all the warm and fuzzy spots.
Cindy,
Great to hear you loved the borshch. I haven’t been back in a while and it’s always a pleasure to hear a restaurant is maintaining its standards. Try the sorrel soup when they’ve got it as a special. It’s kind of a green, tangy version of borshch.