Let Them Eat Beets

I went out in the rain to harvest a few vegies from the garden. Zucchini, saucer squash, a cucumber, tomatoes, beans, and beets. Lots of beets. I pulled out the balsamic vinegar and prepared to roast the fresh beets.

I don't recall eating many beets as a kid. I remember trying a pickled beet a couple of times. I remember not really liking them. I know I put beets on my salads at salad bars if they weren't pickled. Mom didn't cook them, though. Not that I can remember anyway. She didn't even keep them on hand. So why do I grow them in the garden and expect my kids to eat them? Those poor kids.

I tried to explain what I like about beets. They are juicy when they are cooked. Katie raised her eyebrows at the purple juice running out of her beet. They are earthy tasting. Robby wrinkled his nose at me. What do I mean by earthy? Hmmm. No, they don't taste like dirt. They taste warm. Katie sighed and bit into hers. Her mouth got that I'm-trying-to-chew-without-letting-the-beet-touch-my-tongue look to it. She said it was too sour. I assured her (and myself) that it was the balsamic vinegar that was sour, not the beet. Robby bit into his and shrugged. He said he liked it all right. Of course, I challenged him to eat the whole beet if he thought it was all right. And he did!

Arnie and I ate the bowl of beets. They were earthy, warm, and juicy.