Why don’t people like beets? I pondered this question last night as I slowly chewed and savored my tiny, baby beets.
It made me think of how my mother used to serve us sliced, boiled beets for dinner and I would scarf them up with just a little salt to complement their naturally sweet flavor. What kind of little kid eats beets without complaint? Well, maybe I’m recalling a rosier version of the tale, but I’m pretty sure that kid was me.
Fast forward to earlier this month, when my story about local food producers was published in the newspaper. Splashed across the front of the Extra section was a picture of Richard Ursomarso up at Waterbear Mountain Farm holding a big clump of dirt-covered beets that he had just pulled from the earth.
Somewhere along the way, they were incorrectly identified as turnips in the caption. By the time the proofs came around, I was on vacation. Would I have recognized them as beets instead of turnips? I’d like to think so, but since it’s been a coon’s age since I ate a fresh beet, I decided that I had better reacquaint myself.