I don't know how Russians do it, but I can only cook Russian food when the temperature dips. I've been in Russia during some of the warmer months, and I've eaten at some of the surf-side restaurants in New York City's Brighton Beach neighborhood during summer trips to the beach. But try as I might to eat those lovely beet and cucumber salads, and crisp plates of smoked fish, warm-weather dining means a Mediterranean menu to me.

Winter is what Russian cooking was made for.

And so, beginning today, I'm going to crack open the recipe box every Monday to give you a different taste of Russia. First up: Solianka.

Sometimes transliterated as Solyanka, it is a beef-based soup that could easily fit into a category that my chef sister calls "cream of refrigerator": Read down the ingredients list, and you'll find just about everything that is lurking at the back of your fridge (or at least mine). There's kielbasa--courtesy of a great new vendor at my local farmer's market--ham, beef stock and tomato paste.

(Some recipes add a lot more protein. In this piece from The Boston Globe, a principal dancer of the Boston Ballet says that a proper Solianka should contain 15 types of meat!)

The dried mushrooms and pickles I can understand finding in a Russian pantry--you've got to do something to keep the things you're able to grow in Russia's short summers around for the rest of the year. My stash of the former comes thanks to my new food dehydrator, bought as part of my "eat local" effort this year. The pickles are from a farmer's market vendor, too. But I cannot for the life of me figure out how Kalamata olives got into the mix, unless it's thanks to some sort of connection I don't understand between the Greek Orthodox and Russian Orthodox churches. If there's an olive tree growing anywhere in Russia, it's got to be under glass in a botanical garden.

No matter. It all comes together in a delicious combination of salty and sour flavors. And it definitely hits the spot on a cold day.


Image credit: marykbaird at Morguefile.com