Revisiting the beet

The beet wins! A few weeks ago I wrote in this column about my poor and unfortunate experiences with the purple vegetable known as the beet. With rapped knuckles, gagging reflexes and starving stomach, I reject the beet as a side dish not often accepted.

Challenged by Merry Gardener to accept the beet as a staple to my diet, acknowledging the vegetable’s dietary benefit, culinary adaptability and general good taste, I accept her challenge to embrace this root vegetable into my life.

Once the original column is printed, I receive many responses understanding my distaste for the beet. “Hey, Bill! I agree with you. The beet tastes and smells like dirt. But, my wife likes them so I grow beets each year in the garden,” Bob my neighbor offers with a smile and a handshake.

“I hate beets but make them for my husband once a week because he loves them,” states another reader.

The secret is knowing how to prepare them Vanessa, my coworker, adds.

“I used to hate beets too until I learned this recipe. Roast the beets with honey, almonds, cinnamon, arugula and goat cheese. It makes a delicious salad. My kids and husband love them and, they are healthy!”

Everyone has a story of distaste for the delectable beet and a story of acceptance. Sheila Wood offers this story from her son:

“I read all your columns and especially enjoyed the story ‘Giving the beet another chance.’ It reminds me of a small section in a book my son wrote about his growing-up years. It is entitled ‘Growing Up Pine Creek.’ The author is my son, Ryan Wood.

“Most of the things I did as a kid were normal, or at least I believed they were normal. For example, I didn’t know that there were more than three things to grow in a garden. We had three small chunks of ground around the house and barn that my mother called gardens. In these gardens, we grew vegetables. But as hard as I sit here and think about it, I can only remember three things that we grew.

“My dad had his own onion garden at the end of the house. Dad would plant onions in the spring and then pick them for dinner all summer long. Dad had inherited a genetic onion-growing trait from his father, Arthur T. Wood. It was a trait that caused individuals to plant an abnormal number of onions due to fear of an extended nuclear holocaust in the United States. To put it mildly, both Dad and Grandpa could grow onions like nobody’s business.

“The second garden in front of the house always had a few potatoes planted in it. We didn’t get a lot of sunlight in Pinecreek, so a potato plant could net you a dozen chicken-egg sized potatoes in a full growing season.

“The remaining one and two-thirds gardens were planted with the worst vegetable God ever created. Beets! I believe today that the beet is actually classified as a noxious weed in North Idaho. But in 1978, they were not only my mother’s favorite vegetable, but they invaded more than four acres of our land. My mother was the master of the beet cookbook. We ate pickled beets, boiled beets, beet greens, beet salad, stuffed beets, beet kabobs and even beet jelly. By the time I was 12, I had personally choked down over three thousand beets. This is an incredibly high number, considering the fact that I had mastered the technique of flipping them under the table to the foot of Rusty’s chair and then blaming him for dropping them off his plate. Rusty had probably eaten 3,500 by this time thanks to my technique and Mom’s use of the six-second rule.

“My two brothers, my sister and I had all mastered the art of the fake chew as we hid beets under the edge of our plate. And everyone knew to drink milk with a beet dinner. You could hide four to five small beets in a half glass of un-drunk milk. Mom claimed they were good for us, and that they grew well in a low-light area like Pinecreek. I think she secretly enjoyed torturing us with those vile weeds. Until I spent some time with my friends in high school, I didn’t realize that the whole world didn’t eat those beets. As a matter of fact, most other people hated them too. Go figure.”

After accepting 50 emails and personal responses from readers and friends, I accept Merry’s challenge and purchase three beets from Fred Meyer. I decide to accept Merry’s suggestion and cook the Borscht on page 33 of her book, “Meet my Beet.” This book is funny, irreverent and easy to follow. This book must sit on every culinarian and foodie’s coffee table for at-least a year. The pages are pretty, the suggestions easy to follow and the quirkiness fun to read.

I cook the Borscht, let it cool slightly and add a dollop of sour cream then taste. I LIKE IT! The slightly earthy, sweet, salty flavor of the soup leaves me satisfied and searching for another spoonful. On this raining, cool spring day, this soup satisfies my need for comfort and desire for warmth.

As the warm sun breaks through the angry clouds on this April afternoon, I envision a warm summer day with this soup served cold and offering a refreshing, satisfying, nurturing meal, not too heavy, not too light, filling my belly with purple sunshine. Merry is right, everyone should meet their beet.

Send comments or other suggestions to William Rutherford at bprutherford@hotmail.com or visit pensiveparenting.com.