Soup in Hollywood: what a ciorbă is and why it is sour
A ciorbă is a soup that has been soured on purpose, and the sour is the whole point of it. Romanian keeps two words where English has one: supă is the clear one, ciorbă is the one with an edge on it. Nearly everything we ladle at 422 S Dixie Hwy is the second kind.
The sour goes in near the end, lemon juice in some bowls and vinegar in others, so it stays sharp instead of cooking flat. In Romania the job is often done with borș, a liquid soured from fermented wheat bran. Our kitchen uses lemon juice and vinegar, and the ingredients are written under each soup on the menu so you can see which one you are getting.
Ciorbă de perișoare, $13. Pork meatballs with rice and parsley in a sour vegetable broth with carrots, bell pepper and lovage, three meatballs to the bowl, soured with lemon juice. This is the one to hand somebody who has never had a sour soup.
Ciorbă rădăuțeană, $13. Chicken with carrots and garlic, finished with sour cream and egg yolk and a splash of vinegar for the sour. The gentlest of them, thick and pale, and the easiest one to give a child.
Ciorbă de văcuță, $13. Beef simmered with carrots, parsnip, celery root and potatoes, soured with lemon juice and finished with lovage, the beef left in chunks rather than shredded into the broth.
Ciorbă de burtă, $16. Beef tripe simmered for hours in bone broth, finished with sour cream, egg yolk, garlic and vinegar, with a hot pepper on the side. This is the soup Romanians order on a Sunday morning and after a long night, and it is the bowl they use to find out whether a place is serious.
Gulaș is on the same list at $16: Hungarian beef goulash with sweet paprika and flour dumplings pinched into the pot, thick enough to sit closer to a stew than to a soup.
All of them come at twenty ounces, one bowl, one person, ladled when you order. Hot pepper and extra vinegar come on request, and asking for both is normal.
Leuștean, lovage, goes into two of them at the end. It is the herb a Romanian notices from the first spoon when it is not there, and the hardest one to explain to anyone who did not grow up with it. Celery leaves get close. Nothing else does.
Soup here is a lunch. We ladle Tuesday to Saturday from 10 AM to 6 PM, and Sunday from 10 AM to 4 PM, and Monday the doors stay shut so the smokehouse can rest. Sunday closes at four, so a Sunday bowl of burtă is an early errand. Hours and the way in live in one place.
You can order a bowl ahead on the menu and pick it up at the counter, which is the sensible move at lunch. A ciorbă is the start of a meal rather than the whole of it, so after it there are sarmale, cabbage rolls with mămăligă and sour cream at $20, or mici, grilled minced meat rolls, four with fries at $14. The house loaf is $6 if you want bread for the bowl.
And if somebody sent you to this address calling it Artisan Deli, the counter has not moved. We made the mici and the sausage that were sold here, and the counter is ours now. The short version is here.
If you searched for soup near you and have never had a sour one, start with the rădăuțeană and take the perișoare next time. Thirteen dollars, twenty ounces, and a hot pepper if you ask for it.