On Beets

Scrub a beet, the deep vermilion will color the white bristles of your vegetable brush. Scrub off the thin layer of earth, only later to find that its soil has penetrated the deepest parts of the flesh. Place the beet in a small pot of salted water to boil. The water will bubble and the beet will slowly bleed into the pot until it looks like a single beating heart, thrusting against the rising currents.
The beet is the most human of vegetables.

A metaphor.

As it softens, it releases its lifeblood. Pierce it with a fork and watch the juice bleed like a wounded soldier, or a knifed assassin, a melodramatic scorned lover of Shakespearian proportion.

The dramatic effect is lost when baked or sauteed. It is simply not the same thing.
A freshly boiled beet, drained of its crimson liquid and placed steaming on a wooden cutting board is a thing of beauty.

Step away from it for a moment. Watch the steam rise and think of your own beating organ. Think of the shape, the heat of your own machinery. Palm the newly heated beet and feel its heaviness, swollen with hot water and now fleshy. Marvel over is sudden metamorphosis from hard knotted fist, to soft, delicate, meat.

The knife will cut through with very little resistance. Split at the center, the beet will astound with its presentation of the color red. Only blood has this depth in its hue, this power, this overwhelming sensuality. The center of the beet pulses red, a velvet crimson. If you touch your finger to the hot middle, it will come away with a drip of dark pink. The beet is never a solid color, it gradiates from almost black to a white-pink. It is like a dappled rose, but even a rose is not nearly this vibrant. The center of the beet swirls around, a picture of chaos, mismatched on the inside.

The steam arising from the root smells of that same earth rinsed off before cooking. Like something from deep inside the ground. The beet is a root, the lifeblood of the plant. It holds the nutrients for the plant's continued survival.

The beet is an unlikely piece of artwork. From above you would never know. The plant itself, floppy leaves, an unassuming green color, muted red veins and stems, not much different from a lettuce. It is only through digging under the layers of soot, that we recover the beet from its cloistered hermitage.

I personally, never liked beets. My mother prepared them from cans, with a bit of melted butter. She heated them in a saucepan and that was all. I thought they tasted like dirt, feet, mildew. It was only after I had come in contact with the beet on a more intimate level, taken it into my hands and cooked it for myself that I recognized something special.

A boiled beet, sliced and presented on a bed of dark greens, paper thin slices of red onion and almonds, can outdo any filet mignon. The texture is beyond delicate. It is like the most tender slice of prosciutto (a delicacy I have only had once and will never have again). A boiled beet, dressed in balsamic vinegar, fresh basil and olive oil can stand alone as a meal. I have had them baked with garlic and topped with broccoli sprouts, pickled and served with potatoes, eaten alone fresh from the pot in all their earthy glory.
The beet is a miracle of a vegetable, lowly yet satisfying and so very poetic.

Recipe:
Baked Beets

Ingredients:
As many beets as you would like, best start with 1-2
1Tbsp of maple syrup
1/2 tsp of Kosher Salt or Sea Salt
1/2 tsp of white pepper
4 Tbsp of Balsamic Vinegar
1 tsp of garlic powder OR 1-2 cloves of garlic, minced.
2 Tbsp of Extra Virgin Olive Oil
1 Tbsp of dried basil or 2-3 chopped, fresh leaves
2 tsp of dried oregano or 1 fresh leave

Trim the beet(s) and scrub off outer layer of dirt and skin. Boil in a lightly salted pot for 20ms on a rolling boil.
Combine all other ingrients in a small dish. Whisk until all ingredients are incorporated.

Remove beet, rinse and run under cold water. Cube beet and place in baking dish.
Pour mixture over cubed beet and let marinate for at least 30mins.
Bake in 375degree oven for 15mins or until tender.

It is best to serve this on a pile of steamed greens. Kale perhaps?