The pink summer soup arrived fifth on an eight-stop walking food tour through Vilnius and the guide grinned because he knew. It looked like a joke. Cold, blinding fuchsia, dill confettied on top, a plate of warm potatoes set down next to it like a side dish that had wandered in from a different meal entirely.
I almost skipped the bowl. I am glad I did not. Two spoonfuls in, I asked our guide Mantas if there was a stall nearby where I could go eat another one after the tour ended. He said the closest place was about a four minute walk.
The Vilnius Food Tour That Sold Me on Pink Summer Soup
The tour started in the Old Town near Pilies Street and wound across the bridge into Užupis, that micro-neighborhood that famously declared itself a republic. By stop five we had already eaten smoked pig ear, a sliver of cured Baltic herring on rye, and a kibinai pastry I would honestly fly back for. We had bounced between three small cafés, a market stall in Hales Turgus, and a kvass kiosk, and the guide had kept reminding us to pace ourselves. I did not.
I was full. Properly full. Then a plastic bowl of šaltibarščiai landed in front of me and I rolled my eyes at it.
Mantas was matter of fact about the whole thing. This, he said, is what your grandmother feeds you in July when the apartment is too hot to think. He told us never to eat it without potatoes on the side. I thought he was being dramatic. He was not. The hot starch chasing the cold soup is the entire point of the dish, and you only understand that after the first time you do it correctly.
What Šaltibarščiai Actually Is
It is not Russian borscht served cold. That is the first thing every traveler gets wrong. Šaltibarščiai is a Baltic and Polish-Lithuanian dish built on a kefir or buttermilk base, with grated cooked beets stirred in to turn the whole bowl pink.
Calling it cold borscht in front of a Lithuanian is a small social misstep. They will correct you politely and tell you the clear-broth Russian version is a different animal entirely.
The first vague mention of it shows up in 1662, in the memoirs of Jan Chryzostom Pasek, who described a cold borscht he ate in Vilnius. The earliest written recipe came later, in late 18th-century Warsaw, recorded as chłodnik litewski by Paul Tremo, who cooked for the last king of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth.
The color does not come from cream or food dye. It comes from red beets reacting with cultured dairy. Poorer households used to make it with white beets, and the vivid pink version only became dominant once red beets shed their status as a luxury crop.
Vilnius has hosted a Pink Soup Fest every summer since 2023 and the city fountains run pink for the weekend. I am not making that up.
What I Used
- 4 cups full-fat kefir, well chilled
- 2 medium cooked red beets, peeled and grated on the large holes of a box grater
- 1 English cucumber, finely diced
- 4 scallions, thinly sliced, white and green parts
- Half a cup of fresh dill, finely chopped
- 4 large eggs, hard boiled and halved lengthwise
- 1.5 lb baby Yukon Gold potatoes for serving hot on the side
- 2 tablespoons unsalted butter for the potatoes
- Half a cup of cold water or beet brine to loosen the soup
- 1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice for extra tang
- Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Making Šaltibarščiai in My LA Kitchen
First time I made this at home was a Sunday morning before anyone else in the building was up. The kitchen window was open. There was a Joni Mitchell record on. The kefir came from the Armenian market on Glendale Boulevard, the full-fat kind in the glass bottle, which matters. Skim kefir gives you a thin, sad soup. Not worth it.
I grated the beets on the wonky-handled box grater I have had since I lived in a studio in Echo Park. It splatters. Wear an apron, or, if you are like me, do not wear anything you actually care about. The potatoes went on first because they take the longest, baby Yukons in well-salted water, about twenty minutes total.
While the potatoes boiled I dumped the grated beets, cucumber, scallions, and dill into a big glass bowl. Not metal. Beets stain everything they touch and a metal bowl can give the soup a faint tinniness. Cold kefir over the top, a splash of cold water to loosen, a squeeze of lemon, a good pinch of salt. Stir once. The color goes from beet-juice maroon to true Pepto pink in about ten seconds. It is a small magic trick. By the time the bowl went into the fridge to chill, the apartment smelled like dill and like the inside of a refrigerator, which sounds bad and is actually exactly right.
The eggs go on at the end, halved lengthwise, with a little extra dill scattered across the top. Hot buttered potatoes on a separate plate, never in the bowl. The dog watched the whole thing happen and got nothing.
A Few Tweaks Worth Knowing
I have made this maybe eight times now. Some honest notes from the misses.
Do not skip the hot potatoes. I tried once. I thought I was being clever, serving the soup with rye bread instead because that is how Latvians do it. The bowl was fine. The meal was missing its whole point. The hot-cold contrast is the dish.
Do not use beets pickled in vinegar. They will throw the whole balance off and the kefir will read sour in the wrong direction. Plain boiled red beets are best. The vacuum-packed cooked beets at Trader Joe’s are also genuinely fine and I use them more often than I should probably admit.
Eat it the day you make it. Kefir separates within about twenty four hours. The soup looks ill the next morning and tastes flat. Cold leftovers, eaten standing up at the counter the day after. Not great. Not the dish.
Mantas was right about July. This is a heatwave cure, designed by people whose summers do not last long enough to waste. The first hot week we get in LA I will be back at the box grater, splattering pink on the wooden table that catches the morning light, pretending for ten minutes that I am still in Vilnius.
pink summer soup
Ingredients
Equipment
Method
- Place the eggs in a small saucepan, cover with cold water by 1 inch, and bring to a boil over high heat. Once boiling, cover, remove from heat, and let sit for 10 minutes. Transfer the eggs to a bowl of ice water and let cool while you make the soup.
- Scrub the baby potatoes and place them in a medium saucepan. Cover with cold water by 1 inch and add 1 teaspoon of the kosher salt. Bring to a boil and simmer for 15 to 20 minutes, until a knife slides in easily.
- While the potatoes cook, grate the cooked beets on the large holes of a box grater into a large mixing bowl. You should have about 1.5 cups of grated beets.
- Add the diced cucumber, sliced scallions, and chopped dill to the bowl with the beets. Sprinkle with the remaining 0.5 teaspoon kosher salt and toss to combine.
- Pour the cold kefir over the beet mixture and stir gently until evenly pink and well combined. Add 0.5 cup cold water or beet brine to loosen the soup to a pourable consistency, adding a splash more if you prefer it thinner.
- Taste and adjust seasoning with more salt, a pinch of black pepper, and the lemon juice if you want a sharper tang. Cover and refrigerate for at least 15 minutes so the flavors meld and the color deepens.
- Drain the cooked potatoes, return them to the warm pan, and toss with the butter and a small pinch of salt. Keep covered and warm.
- Peel the cooled hard-boiled eggs and cut each one in half lengthwise.
- Ladle the cold soup into chilled bowls. Top each portion with 2 egg halves and an extra pinch of dill. Serve immediately with the hot buttered potatoes on a separate plate alongside, eating spoonfuls of cold soup between bites of warm potato.