When I was little, this was one of two soups that I voluntarily eat. Mushroom being the second one.
This soup tasted good to me probably because I was an active participant in the making of it. While mom or grandma were busy doing important things, I was sent with a bag to pick sorrel leaves growing as weeds along the paths surrounding our dacha. This soup could have been made daily as there was no end to sorrel.
Recently, I was astonished to find a recipe for Crème d’Oseille in Mastering the Art of French Cooking that led to Craig Claiborne’s reference to Potage Germiny — a fancy word for sorrel soup — as “one of the absolute marvels of soupdom.” Oh là là !
To me, it was the stuff embarrassment was made of.
Anyway, somehow we ended up with a prolific sorrel bush in our little Jersey garden. And here it is — the marvel of the soupdom — sorrel, or green, shchi.
The process can’t be easier. Basic sofrito of carrots, celery, and onion is softened in a mix of oil and butter. Then, in goes the broth of any kind. Once the broth is boiling, potatoes chopped small join the pot. When potatoes are done, in goes sorrel — a pound is good. Not enough sorrel? Add spinach.
During the mushroom season, my grandma would add mushrooms to the sofrito. If the broth was made with beef or chicken, whatever meat could be salvaged from the bones would go in, too.
Once plated — and this is very important — a handful of herbs, a dollop of sour cream, and a hard boiled egg elevate the experience. That pasty mush of hard yolk mixing with the sourness or sorrel broth is one of a kind special.
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