I made some borscht. And it was beautiful. But the dining table wasn’t looking beautiful enough to put the borscht on it. So I went out and spent an hour looking for a setup that would do justice to the borscht.
Here it is:
If you have to ask where the borscht is, then you don’t understand the Ukrainian soul. We ate it, of course. It’s gone. Now I feel like I need to make more to do justice to the setup.
Address to a Borscht (with apologies to Robert Burns)
Fair fare your honest, cheerful face,
Great chieftain of the stewish-race!
Above them all, now take your place,
The stomache you won’t attack:
Well worthy are you now of grace,
As we toss you soon a’back.
…
Ye Powers who make mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill of fare,
All Ukraine wants no watery broth
Gone sooner than a Porche;
But, if ye wish her grateful prayer,
Give her naught but borscht!
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:-)))) This is great. Now that Klara won’t let us eat until we say grace, maybe we can use this poem to express our thanks.
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No, it’s neoliberal. 🙂 But they were taught to say grace and direct it to an unidentified entity. It’s actually a good idea because it marks the beginning of the eating process.
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A conservative literary critic and college professor
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