Food for the Soul: The Heartwarming Power of Borscht & Family Connection
Food has always been more than just sustenance; it's a bridge—connecting us to our past, our loved ones, and even ourselves. For me, the dish that holds the deepest connection to all of these is Borscht. This cherished family recipe serves as a reminder of where I come from, the bonds that tie me to my ancestors, and the enduring warmth of family traditions.
Some of my earliest and dearest memories of family and heartfelt connection took place in the kitchen—not a big kitchen, nor a fancy one, but the humble one in our family home. Mum would place each of us kids on the counter while she cooked, and on weekends, when my father was home, he’d do the same. You see, my parents always cooked with their hearts—honest, hardworking people who gave their all to their family. Even amidst the chaos of raising and providing for seven children, they always found moments to cook, share, and love.
My father’s specialty, for one reason or another, was soups. And my favourite of all these was his unique, mouth-watering take on Borscht—an ode to our Ukrainian roots. Just thinking about it now, I can taste its richness: the balance of smoky bacon umami, quality red wine, fresh dill and cream, and the earthy beets and autumn root vegetables. It was in this humble pot of soup that I felt the love of my ancestors, the spirit of their connection to the land, and the quiet, sacred bond of family.
One of my ancestors, Ivan Pylypow, grew up on a farm in the small Ukrainian village of Nebyliv. He, too, was one of seven children and became one of the first Ukrainian pioneers to emigrate to Canada, where he farmed the fertile land and created new opportunities for his family. At 32, just one year older than I am now, Ivan set out in search of adventure and the promise of a better, more prosperous life. For him, the farm and family were intertwined; both nourished each other, just as their connection to the earth provided abundance.
Living far from my family, I relate deeply to Ivan’s journey—at times, longing for connection and the warmth of loved ones; the bonds that sustain and ground us through life’s challenges. Just as he sought new beginnings in a foreign land, I, too, have been on a path of self-discovery and growth. Yet with each step, I feel more rooted in my heritage, and the simple but profound value of family.
This connection is always brought to the forefront when I prepare this dish. It’s a portal to my loved ones and long-passed ancestors, to my family’s enduring legacy. As I stand in my kitchen, stirring the pot and adding ingredients, I feel their stalwart presence. It’s a way to honour their memories, struggles, and triumphs. I can almost hear their stories—of simpler times, long days on the prairies working the land, and pure joy shared around a large table.
Each time I make Borscht, I’m reminded that food is a ritual, a sacred practice that grounds us in the present while honouring the past. It carries the stories of our families and keeps those traditions alive, even across great distances.
Growing up, it was my mother and I who spent long summer days in our garden, tending to the vegetables that would eventually make their way into the first pot of Borscht of the season. We would eagerly await the harvest and the change in the sun, knowing that once the veggies were gathered, our special ritual of cooking together would begin. These moments—those simple, quiet moments together in the kitchen—are the heart of my childhood, and the core of the traditions that continue to shape me.
As I share this recipe with you today, I do so with much love and reverence. It’s a recipe I’ve held closely, never before sharing it outside of my immediate family. But as I get older and (hopefully) wiser, I’ve come to reflect on the value of sharing—of offering something precious to others and releasing the constriction of exclusivity that serves to keep us separated. In these times, the world could certainly use more beauty, more love, and more authentic connection. Perhaps through the simple act of sharing food that holds meaning for us, we can find our way back to trusting one another, to peace, and a felt sense of togetherness.
When we share a dish like Borscht, it’s not just about feeding someone’s body; it’s about nourishing the soul. It’s about saying, “I see you,” “I care for you,” and “I want you to feel loved and valued.” By exploring and expressing the traditions that form our identity, we come to know ourselves more deeply. And in giving of ourselves, in sharing these traditions with others, we have the opportunity to bridge worlds, nurture connection, and come to understand one another as valued equals.
After all, food, at its core, is a language of love. In the kitchen, we’re creating memories and enduring relationships that last long after the meal has been enjoyed. It has the power to heal, bring people closer together, and most of all, reminds us of what truly matters. This simple act of feeding someone—be it a family member, friend, or stranger—becomes an offering of love and care that transcends the food itself. So, my friend, I invite you to try this recipe for yourself. Cook it with love, share it with those you care for, and let it bring you home.
For more on how to nourish your body, soul, and community, join me in my Empowered Healing course at (https://www.mywholylifeblog.com/empowered-healing-and-self-care-course-enrolment ). Let’s continue this journey of connection, nourishment, and healing together.
xx
‘The Man in the Sheepskin Coat’
Ivan Hawrylowych Pylypow (1859-1936)
Image courtesy of Iwan & Pat Tomkow
The original Pylypow family homestead that Ivan built with his own hands—now a part of the Ukrainian Cultural Heritage Village.
Image Credit: The Ukrainian Cultural Heritage Village; A renowned open-air museum situated just 25 minutes east of Edmonton, Alberta. It is open to visitors from the May long weekend through to Labour Day in September. For more information, visit www.ukrainianvillage.ca
Pylypow Family Ukrainian Borscht:
Ingredients:
400g Organic, Naturally Smoked Bacon
400g Potatoes
200g Carrots
500g Beets
280g Green Beans
1 1/2 L Homemade or Organic Beef Stock
1/2 Bottle Full-Bodied, Organic Red Wine
25g Sea Salt (or to taste)
200ml Heinz Ketchup
150ml White Vinegar
A Big Bunch of Fresh Dill
300ml Fresh Pouring Cream
To Serve:
Sour Cream
Fresh Sourdough Bread
Freshly Chopped Dill
Remainder of Red Wine
Method:
Prepare the bacon: Cut the bacon into small pieces, about 1cm in size. In a large pot, heat over medium and fry the bacon until golden brown and crispy. This will be the base for your soup.
Prepare the vegetables: While the bacon is frying, wash, peel, and dice the potatoes, carrots, and beets—I like to cut mine fairly small as they cook quicker and fit nicely on the spoon—but you can adjust the size to your liking.
Prepare the green beans: Wash the green beans, trim the tips, and then cut them in half.
Combine ingredients: Once the bacon is crispy, add the prepared potatoes, carrots, beets, and beans to the pot.
Add liquids: Pour in the beef stock and half of your 750ml bottle of red wine—reserving the other half for serving with your meal, if desired.
Season: Add the ketchup and half the sea salt. Stir to combine and bring to a gentle simmer. Cook until the vegetables are tender but not mushy, about 45 minutes to an hour.
Taste and adjust seasoning: Taste the soup for saltiness. If needed, add more sea salt. If the soup becomes too salty (especially if your beef stock contains salt), add a little filtered water to balance it out.
Add vinegar: When the soup is just right, add the vinegar. Stir and taste as you go, adjusting the amount to reach your desired acidity.
Add dill: Wash and chop the entire bunch of dill, reserving about one-third for garnish. Add the rest of the dill directly to the soup and stir well.
Finish with cream: Finally, add the fresh pouring cream. Stir through and taste again. Important: Always add the vinegar before the cream to prevent curdling.
Serve: Serve the soup with a good dollop of sour cream, a sprinkle of the reserved dill, and a beautiful slice of buttered sourdough bread. Red wine pairs nicely.
Best enjoyed in good company! xx
