Mistakenly referred to the world-over as “Russian Borsch”, this rich and colorful soup was actually born in Ukraine. Over the years it has, indeed, became a staple of the Russian cuisine as well.
This was a disclaimer about the origins of Borscht, now let’s get down to business! One thing I should tell you from the beginning – while it does not take too long to make, is not that complicated, and does not require any exotic ingredients, Borscht needs A LOT of patience. Simply because it is always better the next day. Correction – it takes fucking amazing the next day! So, my advice to all those attempting the recipe – eat before you cook. And put your Borscht hopes off till the next day. You are welcome!
2 liters of water
400-500 gr of “soup beef”, ideally with a piece of bone
Water and meat can be substituted with the canned beef stock, if you are too fucking lazy. People who use powdered stocks should be shot on sight, and fucking deserve the shitty results they will get when cooking with it. Just saying…
2 medium-sized raw beetroots, or 1 big fucker, peeled and grated
3 medium-sized onions, peeled and finely chopped
1 big raw carrot, peeled and grated
2-3 medium-sized potatoes, peeled and cut into medium-sized cubes
2-3 tablespoons of concentrated tomato paste
300 gr of white cabbage, shredded
4-5 tablespoons of olive or vegetable oil
1-2 tablespoons of fresh lemon juice
2-3 dried laurel leaves
4-5 black peppercorns
Salt to taste
Sour cream and parsley/dill to garnish
First off, you need to make the stock. If you are a classy dude/gal, you will get the soup beef off your local supermarket/butcher’s, and having washed it, will place it in the big pot with 2 liters of water to cook. Bring the water to the boil, turn the heat down, add laurel leaves and peppercorns, and keep the broth simmering, taking off any impurities that raise to the surface. Simmering your broth while you are preparing the rest (up to 30 minutes) should give it a nice, rich flavor.
If you are a lazy bastard or any gender, you will just empty 2 liters of canned beef stock into the pot, bring it to the boil, and leave simmering on medium heat. You can still add laurel leaves and peppercorns to the canned stock – this might help a little with the taste.
Heat up a frying pan, add olive/vegetable oil until almost bubbling, and fry the chopped onion, until just golden
Turn the heat to medium, add grated carrot, and fry for a couple of minutes
Add grated beetroot, mix well, and fry together with onion and carrot for 5-10 minutes, mixing so that it does not stick to the pan. Add a little bit of oil, if needed.
Sprinkle the fresh lemon juice over the mix – this will help preserve the bright color of beetroot, and make your Borscht look festive as fuck.
Add salt to taste, and mix well.
Add tomato paste, and mix well. Simmer the mix for another 3-5 minutes.
And now – show time! You need to bring all the ingredients together.
If you were making proper fucking stock, take the meat out, cool it a little bit so as not to burn your fingers, take all the viable meat off the bone, cut it into squares, and chuck back into the stock.
Add the onion-carrot-beetroot mix into the stock as well and stir well.
Add the shredded cabbage, stir well, cover the pot and leave everything simmering for 5-10 minutes. Make sure your Borscht does not come to a boil, as it will make it loose color.
Take off the heat, and let your Borscht cool down at room temperature. Do NOT fucking touch it on the same day – you will be disappointed, if you do!
Store in the fridge overnight, and heat up the next day either on the stove, or in the microwave. Serve hot with a hearty tablespoon of sour cream on top, and sprinkled with chopped dill and/or parsley.
Connoisseurs also recommend to down a shot of ice-cold vodka before or during your meal. This is the Russian touch to the Ukrainian classic. Cheers!
Our next day adventures took us away from Palawan, and off to exploring nearby seas and islands. We booked a day-trip with a boat a day earlier, and were instructed to show up at the beach at 8 in the morning.
Even though by now we got used to the fact that on holidays nothing really happens on time, we noticed that the Philippines were generally a bit more punctual than, say, Thailand, and were on the beach at 8 on the dot. At the early morning hour, the beach, usually quiet and tranquil during the day, represented pure chaos with weak attempts at organization: the bay was full of boats, anchored or tied to buildings on the beachfront with long ropes disappearing into the water. More boats were tied to those, forming 2nd, 3rd, and sometimes 4th row, disappearing into the mouth of the bay. The beach itself was choker full with tourists, tour companies’ representatives (judging by the one that sold us tickets, there were at least 5 people from each company, which definitely contributed to the chaos), street food and souvenir vendors, dogs, cats, children, random people loitering about, and God knows who or what. At first glance, it looked like nothing could possibly happen in such environment, however, after about 45 minutes of waiting around, we were grouped and re-grouped with other adventure seekers, and finally pointed out to our boat. We walked on the long pontoon till the end, climbed through and over 5 different boats parked side by side in the bay, and finally settled down in what seemed to be our vessel for the day.
Our randomly assembled and very motley crew consisted of 14 people:
A Philippine family of 4: two permanently giggling sisters in their mid-20-es, a serious-looking brother of about the same age, and their Mom. During the course of the day, we learned that Mom and one of the sisters could not swim, and thus did not partake in any snorkeling, or other activities planned for the day. They were sitting in the boat, chatting and giggling all the time, and taking photos of the other 2 siblings splashing about.
An American guy from San Francisco in his late 70-es, who could not swim either, but unlike the other non-swimmers readily jumped into the waters at every stop, tied to a floating buoy. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself throughout the experience.
A friendly couple from Morocco, who took a lot of photos, and were happy to practice their English with everybody who volunteered.
A young Philippine couple who looked like newly-weds, and kept mostly to themselves.
An old grandma with a stick, travelling with her daughter. We were sure she was staying on board, but grandma surprised everybody by jumping out of the boat at the first island stop, and hurried about with her stick, exploring the island.
Another Philippine couple, middle-aged, friendly and smiley, but not speaking a word of English (which did not stop them from communicating with everybody in the universal language of gestures and smiles).
And yours truly.
We signed up for the “5 islands tour”, and were hoping to be all islanded out by the end of the day. The weather was great, the sun was shining, the boat’s motor seemed reliable enough and the captain and his two mates seemed to know what they were doing, so the day was promising to be a success.
Our first stop was the Helicopter Island (official name – Dilumacan Island) , named so due to its shape that from water was supposed to resembled a helicopter (minus the propeller). I have to say, that it took quite a bit of imagination for the naming party to arrive at this particular one. Off the top of my head, I’d have probably come up with a Drumstick, a Whale, or even a half-soaked Swimming Cat… Alas, somebody saw a propeller-less helicopter, and the island was christened for tourists to come…
Our boat closed in on a long sandy beach on the Eastern side of the island, where a dozen others were already rocking in the waves, one of the captain’s helpers jumped into the waters, showing that that it was not too deep, and waving for us to follow suit. Grandma with a stick was the first to show a good example, helped by her daughter (whose efforts resembled more attempts at restraining the old lady, than easing her way off the boat, but grandma was unstoppable!) Our remaining swimming companions followed her. The American guy bravely stepped overboard, disappeared in the water, and proudly floated up with the help of a buoy, tied to his leg.
The island boasted a long white sandy beach, stretching as far as the eyes could see, and we were given 20 minutes to explore and admire. As we walked just a little bit further from the boats, they and the other tourists disappeared behind a sandy bank, giving us a full impression of being all alone on the beach. This was a great start to the trip – the waters were crystal clear with all shades and colors of turquoise and blues of the skies reflected in them, the sand was white and seemed un-touched by civilization.
After 20 minutes of enjoying the blues and whites of the Helicopter Island beach, we got back into the boat, and continued to the next stop – Hidden Beach. Well concealed by the cliffs of the Matinloc Island and accessible only through a narrow crevice in the rocks, the beach is, indeed, hidden from prying eyes and cannot be seen from the water. Our boat parked next to the crevice, and we first swam, and then walked on a shallow sand spit in the clearest waters we’ve ever seen through the opening in the cliffs. We were the only boat there at this time, and had the beach and the shallow-water lagoon just to our merry little group.
Me, Nic and the American guy were the first off the boat, and the first to see the lagoon and the beach open up in front of our eyes. The feeling was almost surreal – it was amazingly beautiful, and completely empty. We felt like the only people on Earth. That is, until the remaining members of the gang caught up with us, and started splashing about and taking photos. We did our share of both, and headed back to the boat. It was time to leave – several more dinghies, twice the size of ours were hovering about at the entrance to the beach, each carrying several dozen passengers, eager to jump into the waters in a quest for hidden treasures.
Our third stop was not, strictly speaking, the 3rd island – the boat circled around the Northern tip of the Matinloc Island, and docked at its Western side. We disembarked at a shallow little cove off the pier at a site of the so-called Matinloc Shrine – a Virgin Mary statue in a white domed pavilion. Built in 1982, allegedly as part of a spiritual resort construction project that went down the drain due to misappropriation of funds, and other similar distractions, the statue of the Virgin was very white, very well preserved, and covered by a classical-looking white dome.
The former construction site boasted not only the shrine (in very decent condition), but a concrete pier, and an unfinished shell of a 3-story building, that was supposed to house the resort per se. The pier was full of boats docked right at it, as the shrine was a popular destination for religious tourists. It was also a common lunch pit-stop for most boat operators from El Nido, with several tables and benches, as well as big stones and logs that could be (and intensively were) used by all descendants on the island, free from visiting the shrine.
The unfinished building towered proudly over the shrine that seemed comparatively minuscule. Much as we love abandoned buildings, we decided against exploring the crumbled insides in flip-flops, and resorted to admiring the ruins from outside. The shrine and the building were not the only relics on this part of the beach, though. Tucked in the bushes opposite the empty resort shell was a surprising and very colorful memorial to Ferdinand Marcos. A notorious former president of the Philippines, secret multi-billionaire sued by his own people and a husband of shoe-collecting Imelda, Marcos was not (to put it mildly) a very popular person in his home-country even during his lifetime, let alone after his death. Finding his monument in full colorful military regalia next to a shrine was surprising, but maybe we were missing some insight into Philippine history and mentality…
While we were sightseeing, our brave crew was busy preparing lunch. When we returned to the boat, a beautiful feast of grilled fish, fried rice, beans, vegetables and fruit was laid out for us. Since all benches, stones and tree trunks were already taken, we eat on the boat together with our multi-tasking crew. Whether it was the ambiance, the happy feeling of vacations, or their actual cooking skills, the food tasted amazing, and we still remember it fondly as one of the best meals we had on the trip!
Full and tranquil after lunch, we lazily watched as our brave crew was trying to jump-start the motor of the boat that at this point also decided to take a break. We could not do much to help, but no help was needed – after about 10 minutes of the engine screeching, spitting steam and oil, and demonstrating generally un-cooperative behavior, the boys shouted over the rocks to the pier, two more boats with more curious spectators appeared, and our motor was successfully jump-started off the engine of one of them. We were mobile again!
The boat took us down the Tapiutan Straight, separating Matinloc from the neighboring Tapiutan Island, and paused for our next pit-stop: snorkeling over a coral reef off Tapiutan. I was not really much for snorkeling, as after several nose operations in my childhood breathing through my mouth was off the list of fun things to do. Even so, I could enjoy the myriad of colorful fishes hurrying underneath the boat by simply looking down.
The water was so clear, that you could see everything going on in and over the reef, and when some left-over rice was thrown overboard by the captain, and swarms of fishes of all sizes, shapes and colors rushed to pick it up, my curiosity about underwater world was fully satisfied.
The last stop of the day was Secret Beach, also located on Matinloc Island, just a little further down South from the snorkeling location. The beach is called secret, because it is completely covered from water by the rocks, and is only accessible through 2 not very long natural tunnels under said rocks. They are not under-water, but have very low ceilings, with barely a possibility to stick one’s head out from under water to get some breath. Technically, this should scare people away, at least the claustrophobic ones. Judging by the number of boats parked right at the entrance to the tunnels, and the hordes of people inside the tunnels and on the beach itself, the prevalence and incidence of claustrophobia among tourists in that particular area was extremely low. Alas, the beach did not seem to be so secret anymore!… While the hidden lagoon and the thin stretch of sand on the side of it were definitely spectacular, it was impossible to take any photos where either water or beach would be visible and not covered by visitors, let alone enjoy the experience. I fully realize how hypocritical my words sound – after all, we were among those hundreds of people covering every square inch of the Not So Secret Beach (they should definitely think about renaming it!) Well, we did have one beach today all to ourselves, so we could not be too greedy, I guess…
All in all, despite the crowds of the Secret Beach, the day trip was a definite success, and upon return to dry land we washed off the salt of the day with a quick shower, and enjoyed the drinks and the music in our favorite local bar.
We still had a couple more days on Palawan, before our holidays would expire, so I am not finished with the Philippines stories just yet.