Growing up, I never got to try real beets. I only had the industrially canned “pickled” ones at the all-you-can-eat buffet near my grandma’s house. My beloved grandma and I used to frequent this dreaded place when I was a kid, and they’d be there on the salad bar, next to the browning iceberg lettuce, canned peas and Jell-O. She really loved those pickled beets, and I really loved her, so I would always pretend to like them. Back at the booth, I’d bat my eyelashes and smile up at her with purple teeth, trying not to gag. My mom really hated beets too, so my family never made them, and I assumed all beets were as disgusting as those mushy canned ones. Even into my early twenties, I would always turn them down at potlucks and dinner parties.
The fateful day came about ten years ago when I finally tried good beets—and fell in love with them. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the first year on my farm, and I was living with a bunch of twenty-something friends. We had a gigantic garden overflowing with fresh vegetables and made lots of communal meals. One mid-summer day, a neighbor dropped off his visiting nephew—a young man from some city where he was studying at a culinary school and working at a fancy restaurant; we called him “Chef Kid.” His uncle had run out of ideas to entertain him, so into our kitchen Chef Kid swooped, professional knife case in hand, and commenced an all-day and all-night cooking extravaganza. He’d bark orders, and we’d haul vegetables and herbs in from the garden, wash and mince/slice/dice/chop/chiffonade them, and he’d make all sorts of beautiful dishes out of them. We’d eat and eat and wash the mountain of dishes and go back out to the garden for more.
When I told him I didn’t like beets, Chef Kid set his knife down, looked me in the eye and said, “You will love my beets. Someone go get me some beets!”
He thinly sliced them into half moons, put them into a Pyrex baking dish with minced garlic and fresh rosemary, drizzled olive oil and a bit of white wine over them, tossed in some coarse salt and pepper, roasted them, and made me eat them. I remember closing my eyes and cringing as the fork came to my mouth, the taste of those horrid canned beets from my childhood still fresh in my memory. With everyone watching in hushed anticipation, I tasted them. Not a hint of mush or cheap white vinegar there; just savory richness, their earthy sweetness transformed into complex caramelized crispiness on the outside with bursts of salt and roasted garlic and jewel-colored chewy softness on the inside. Wow! Give me more! I ate heaps of them.
I’ve been making up for lost time ever since. I’ll eat them raw, juiced, boiled, roasted and even baked in chocolate cake!
June through September you can find lovely bunches of green-topped red, gold and chiogga (a white and red striped variety from Italy) beets at the market. Don’t you dare throw away those greens—they’re delicious and even more nutrient-dense than the roots. Cut them off and use within a few days. Leave an inch of stem on the roots to store them and to prevent the beet pigments from leaching out when boiling, steaming or roasting them whole.
No need to peel fresh, organic beets; just scrub them well. The flesh, skin and leaves are all full of vitamins (especially vitamin C and folate), minerals (especially potassium, manganese, magnesium and iron) and phytonutrients that have antioxidant, detoxification and anti-inflammatory properties. The less cooked and processed the beet, the better they retain nutrients.
Thank you, Chef Kid! I don’t remember your name, but I’ll never forget your beets or how you opened my eyes to the wide wonderful world of beet possibilities (but just for the record, I still hate canned beets). Silly, those food prejudices we have growing up. Usually a result of our parents making us eat something we didn’t like, my beet prejudice came from my parents not making me eat something I didn’t know I liked.
So if you think you don’t like beet roots or beet greens, maybe you should give them another try:
- Grate or thinly slice raw beet roots on top of green salads.
- Combine raw grated beet roots with orange juice, sunflower oil, chipotle powder and scallions.
- Juice beet roots with carrots, apples and ginger.
- Boil or roast whole, peel, slice and serve hot with butter and fresh parsley, or cold with lemon juice and fresh horseradish.
- Slice, toss in oil, and roast. Stir in fresh orange peel, cool and serve with fresh spinach, toasted hazelnuts and honey vinaigrette.
- Barely wilt wet leaves in a hot skillet, toss with capers and drizzle with olive oil, lemon juice, salt and lots of pepper. Or simply drizzle with butter.
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