magenta

Some experiments turn out well.

And then there is the experiment entitled "beets".

One of the advantages, I thought, of having a garden is getting to grow things you've never eaten and never thought to buy. So, back in the late winter when I was captivated by the seed catalog offerings, I decided to make a foray into the world of beets. I had never tasted beets. Father Bird assured me they weren't worth tasting. I bought a pack of seeds anyway. (He's been wrong about stuff before.)

Fast forward to this spring, when the half-a-garden-box of beets I'd planted came up and made, well, beets. We dug one up, dusted it off, and said, "huh". Chopped it up, threw it in a salad and said, "whoa". Most vegetables take the soil and transform it somehow into something that tastes delightfully different than what you know they're made out of. The beets didn't bother. They tasted just exactly like the mushroom compost that bore them. Ugh.

But wait! All the nutrition experts say that highly colored foods are really healthy for you, contain cancer-fighting agents and all, right? If that's true, then beets have got to be a vitamin gold mine. I couldn't cut them without coloring everything in the kitchen bright magenta. I couldn't boil them without a pot full of deep fuschia water to show for it. Throw one grated beet in a stir fry or casserole and the whole thing becomes an intense, violent pink. So we pressed onward. Healthy food is difficult to turn your back on.

Father Bird, who had decided from the outset that he was right about the beets all along, kept wrinkling his nose whenever I'd present a bright pink dish at dinner. And I had to admit he was right. I tried and tried to like them, using such positive adjectives as "earthy" or "robust" to describe them, but it just wasn't working for me.

And I still had about fifty beets out there I had to do something with.

So, in a last ditch effort to avoid wasting "perfectly good food", I dug them all up, washed them and boiled the whole lot. Peeled, pureed, and froze them in 1-cup portions. And this morning, threw one cup in a bowl of pancake mix, made sure I had enough granola for a backup breakfast, and held my breath.

It looks like we've found the one thing beets are good for. They make fabulous "pink pancakes". The kids were thrilled, they ate every one, and I sent one for Father Bird to test. His assessment..."not horrible." Yeah! Success!

So I breathe a sigh of relief, resolve not to buy a pack of beet seeds next year, and wash my hands of the whole matter. Hm. I think they may be stained pink for a while.