Zeleny Borshch (зелений борщ, sorrel spring soup)

The first green thing after a long winter has a sharp tongue. Sorrel doesn't arrive politely. It wakes in the garden with that lemony bite, goes into the pot at the very end, and turns a plain broth bright, tart, almost impatient. This is spring borshch, and the spelling matters even when the beets stay in the cellar.

At the table it comes with half a boiled egg in every bowl, a spoon of cold smetana, and dill on top because dill belongs there. Easter leftovers often find their way in: eggs already dyed, broth already made, somebody hungry because church ran long and breakfast turned into a small festival. My Aunt Nadia wrote only, "put the greens when the potatoes surrender." She was right. If sorrel boils too long, the color goes tired and the sourness turns flat.

The one thing that decides the dish is the finish. The zasmazhka, the slow-sweated onion and carrot, goes in near the end so its sweetness sits brightly on the broth instead of disappearing into the stock. Then the sorrel follows and barely cooks. Watch it collapse, smell the broth sharpen, taste, and stop.