Giving the beet another chance

Standing in line waiting for my school lunch I notice Ms. Betty holding up a spoon of purple glop. The closer I get to the kitchen; I begin to smell something uncomfortable and unnaturally un-food-like. The smell of composted sugary soil after a hard rain fills my nostrils as Betty dumps a pile of beets onto my tray.

I look at Donnie behind me, plug my nose and utter a loud, yuck with a wry smile. As I turn to accept my next serving of food, Ms. Betty, with the accuracy of a Ninja, quickly snaps her serving spoon on the knuckles of my left hand, splattering purple juice on my white T-shirt and causing my wry smile to quickly turn to shock.

“Be kind,” Betty scolds as I quickly accept my tater tots, slice of meat loaf and sulk to my cafeteria seat.

Embarrassed at the magenta juice dripping from my hand, I sit quietly at my table as other fourth-graders talk about recess, homework and baseball. Before this day, I can eat beets but do not enjoy them. After today, I hate beets.

As a child, there are many foods I form a negative relationship with. Overcooked, mushy, gray asparagus with mayonnaise, cow liver fried with onions and smeared with ketchup, boiled oysters served in hot milk called stew and canned green beans top my dinner plate nightly. Overcooked spaghetti with unseasoned tomato sauce, greasy fried chicken, “stuff” on a shingle and dreadfully well-done, cardboard-tough pork chops are offered by my kind but culinarily deficient mother.

Knowing there is no other food to eat, I manage to consume, and sometime enjoy the less-than-palatable offering.

Coming from a family without financial means, we seldom eat at restaurants. My only experience with food is the school cafeteria, my mother’s cooking and an occasional potluck after church or at a Boy Scout awards banquet. Not knowing what good food tastes like, I appreciate most food offered and eat to feed my body, not enjoying what I eat but eat as a chore — to feed my body.

As a teenager, I go to work. Making my own money changes my culinary life. I begin to eat at restaurants and taste food prepared correctly. I eat with friends, talk about what we are eating and courageously order adventurous items which challenge my palate.

I make friends with many foods I once hated. I fall in love with the briny-sweet taste of raw oysters and order them as a starter for most meals. Asparagus lightly grilled with balsamic vinegar until al dente is a treat I look forward to every spring. Foods I once hated are now loved.

What about the beet? I have yet to reconcile my hatred for the malicious, evil-inflicting, lunch lady abusive, purple root vegetable of my youth — but now is the time. Merry Gardener of Ahsahka, Idaho, challenges me to follow her cookbook, “Meet My Beet,” and give the beet another chance.

In her letter, Merry writes, “One of the main things I tried to accomplish in, ‘Meet My Beet,’ is to encourage readers to experiment. I offered recipes as food for thought, to get the creative juices flowing, and for professed recipe-followers (whose camp I don’t generally fall into, rather I am more of a little of this and a little of that kind of cook.) I hoped to inspire readers to use their own quiche or slaw or bread recipe and let my recipes inspire their creations — show how to work beets into their everday meals.

I have overcome my aversion to most past negative culinary experiences and wish to conquer this last combatant. I wish to become one with the beet! This coming week I will accept Merry’s recommendation of cooking borscht with beet biscuits from her, “Meet My Beet,” cookbook and report back to the readers of this column the result of my experience. If you have a story or past positive or negative experience with the beet, please share.

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