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| Beta vulgaris, cooked and sliced |
A box filled with dirt-caked beets appeared in my kitchen one day not too long ago. Obviously, these dusty orbs did not come from a grocery store. They seemed to have leaped directly from their garden bed onto my kitchen counter without a
thought of washing up before dinner. As it turned out, they came from
White House Fruit Farm in Canfield, Ohio, courtesy of my upstairs housemates.
I eat beets very rarely. The truth is, I never think of them or seek them out. They usually come to me as these beets came to me: out of the clear blue sky. But whenever I do encounter them, I'm struck by their sweet, tender flesh and their wild, wild color.
[This babble continues...]
