[With baked beets and avocado over mesclun greens]
For those of you who’ve decided, as I have, to really appreciate the home front this Labor Day weekend (read: can’t afford to go away), hope you’re enjoying some wonderful weather! If you’re in the Toronto area, drop by to see me and say “hi” at Ambrosia Natural Foods, any time between noon and 4:00 PM. I’ll be offering books and samples of baked goods from Sweet Freedom. And don’t forget that you’ve got only two more days to enter the Simply Bar giveaway! Just click here for details.
Speaking of weather, guess what? It’s summer again! Yep, after a sodden, gloomy June, July and August (okay, maybe there was one day of sunshine), this past week has awarded us with brilliantly sapphire skies and lovely, mellow heat–and Mother Nature’s surprise gift is expected to keep on giving through the weekend.
Am I fixated on the weather? Well, I’m Canadian, aren’t I?
Apart from our legendary politeness and steadystream of Canadianexpat comediansnowin the US, Canadians are also known worldwide for their perverse preoccupation with the weather. No matter the season, no matter the temperature, no matter the individuals, talk of the climate seems to infiltrate any and all conversations and contexts. To wit:
Scene One. April. Bob and Doug meet on the street.
Bob: Hey, how about those Blue Jays, eh?
Doug: Blue Jays? Are you kidding? It was coming down cats and dogs last night. The game was rained out. Grrr-crappy weather!
Scene Two. December. Sterlin and Ricki meet on the street.
Sterlin: Hi, Ric! Merry Christmas! Hope you and the HH got some great gifts!
Ricki: Gifts? Ha! As if Santa could make it to our house through all that sleet and snow! Crappy weather. *sigh.*
Scene Three. March. Kate and Alex sit on the couch after a romantic interlude.
Alex: Kate, I love you. You are “the one.” You complete me. Will you marry me?
Kate: Marry? Are you kidding? As if anyone could count on a decent Saturday to hold a wedding in June! Crappy weather.
Scene Four. July. Don and Roger meet on the street after lunch.
Don: How was the planning meeting this morning?
Roger: Er, I don’t really know. I noticed it was sunny outside and hightailed it to the park–I mean, it was sunny outside! Can’t afford to waste a single sunny moment in this town. Crappy weather.
You get the idea. And really, Roger has a point. With the last few days in Toronto being bright and balmy, I’ve been spending as much time as possible outdoors–which means very little cooking going on here at the DDD household. But don’t despair–there are always salads and other raw foods!
This dish is one I first noticed on Michelle’s blog some time ago. I think it perfectly straddles the limbo between summer and fall (sort of like wearing darker tights with those light summer skirts to tide you over until you pull out your winter wardrobe). I love beets and had never eaten raw beet greens, so I couldn’t wait to give this a try.
I haven’t always been a lover of the crimson root, however. And the HH is painfully blunt in his assessment that “beets taste like dirt.”
[With beet greens and raw, grated beets. Does this look like dirt to you?]
You see, my mother–an excellent baker, but only passable cook–would save a jar of beet borscht for those evenings when she arrived home from shopping or mah jong and didn’t have enough time to whip up a proper dinner. On those occasions, she’d pop open the lid of the borscht jar she kept in the fridge, pour the chunky liquid into a bowl and swirl in a generous dollop of sour cream. For my dad, a bowl of cold borscht with a thick slice of pumpernickel bread constituted a perfectly acceptable dinner (he’s from Poland; pink soup with shreds of beet floating in it doesn’t seem weird to him). To me, however, the resulting fuscia broth appeared far too reminiscent of Pepto Bismol. Combined with the sweet-and-sour odor of the stuff, it was enough to clamp my throat and cause my stomach to lurch. No wonder I didn’t eat beets again until my 40s.
Even the HH loved this salad; we ate it three times in as many weeks. When I made it for the fourth time a few days ago, the weather contributed its own influence and I decided to try it without baking the beets first, but simply peeling and grating them raw. The result was equally delicious, with the juicy, sweet crunch of the raw root commingling happily with the crisp greens.
We’ve also had this salad with chunks of avocado tossed in at the last minute simply because it was at its peak of ripeness, adding a smooth, subtle richness that balanced well with the sour note of the citrus dressing. On another occasion, the salad worked well using mesclun greens instead of beet greens when the latter weren’t available.
Serve this as the first course at dinner, or use it as a light supper all on its own–then run out and enjoy the last vestiges of summer before it evaporates once again.
Grrr–crappy weather!
“Mum, that was just a joke about Santa not making it to our house, right? I mean, we’ll still get our usual Christmas treats this year, won’t we?”
The combination of sweet beets and crisp, crunchy greens is a winner in this quick and easy salad. Toss in some toasted walnut halves or sprinkle with hemp seeds for a light summer dinner.
2 pounds (about 1 kg) fresh beets with greens (scrub beets and wash greens; discard thick stems)
1/2 cup (120 ml) unpacked fresh mint leaves, rinsed and chopped
juice of 1 small lemon
juice of 1 lime
1 tsp (5 ml) Sucanat or 5 drops stevia liquid
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1 Tbsp (15ml) hemp seeds, if desired
salt and pepper to taste
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line a pan with parchment paper. Bake the beets for about one hour, until fork-tender (you can wrap them in aluminum foil for baking if you like, but I don’t bother). Once cool, peel the beets and dice in chunks. Set aside. Alternately, peel the raw beets and grate on the large holes of a box grater; set aside.
Meanwhile, wash and dry the beet greens. Chop into bite-sized pieces.
Place the greens, beets, and mint in a large bowl. Add the lemon juice, lime juice, Sucanat, olive oil and hemp seeds, if using. Toss well and season with salt and pepper. Makes 4 servings. Will keep, covered, in the refrigerator one day.
Can it be that spring has finally decided to grace us with its presence? Tentative buds peek from beneath the scraggy clay, ennervated blades of grass sun themselves daily, waiting to transform from brittle, strawlike shoots to brilliant green fringes undulating in tranquil breezes. The sun is finally blazing overhead, causing pedestrians to peel off successive layers of clothing, first hat, then gloves, then scarf, then jacket as they stroll along, like human illustrations of the the classic Aesop fable.
Bah, spring, I say. I know; you’d think I’d be ecstatic, wouldn’t you? After all, I consider myself the unrivalled Queen of Wrath Against Winter. In contrast to the frozen, snowy season, spring is a harbinger of new life. Flowers. Gurgling streams. Picnics in the park and “Paris in the-the.” The season premiere of Rescue Me. And yet, and yet. . . despite all this, spring has made me grumpy. Why?
Well, this might give you an idea:
Spring, circa 1960s:
It’s late March, and Ricki is jumping with excitement. Spring means it’s time for the annual visit to Uncle L (not to be confused with Uncle S of the Planters Peanuts jar–no fun!) over at the coat factory. Uncle L worked in the fashion district of Montreal, and once a year, Ricki’s mum took her and her two sisters to the factory so they could choose a new spring jacket–at wholesale prices!
What could be better? A two-hour bus ride to the mysterious, exotic East End of Montreal (the all-Francophone area, into which they never ventured otherwise); where everything was interesting and new, from the dark plumes of smoke that snaked across the sky from factory chimneys to the stray newspapers and empty plastic bags that swished across the neglected streets to the staccato joual that echoed down the alleys as they drove by. All of it was fun and exhilarating–and best of all, it culminated in a new coat! Whee!
Spring, Circa 1980s:
Ricki and her two best friends from CEGEP are excited. March means they’re going to Fort Lauderdale for Spring Break–their first vacation on their own and without parents!
What could be better? A shared hotel room in a beachside hotel. Six days sunning on the sand, lounge chairs and drinks by the cabana, three meals a day in restaurants. Evenings clearing the sand out of your swimsuit, getting gussied up and meeting scores of other twenty-somethings at bars and clubs. All of it was fun and exhilarating–and best of all, it culminated in a shopping spree (in American shopping malls, no less, with all those great brands we can’t get at home!) Wheeee!
Spring, Circa March 22, 2009, 4:15 PM:
Spring means taxes. What could be worse?
Grumbling while I gather my scattered paperwork from throughout the year, spend three hours organizing it into neat little piles across the kitchen table, then three more hours with a pad of paper and calculator, tallying up the numbers again and again and again, just to be sure. . . Whoah.
Spring means mud. Lots and lots of mud. What could be worse?
Wiping eight muddy paws, two muddy bellies and an occasional muddy chest two or three times a day over the course of the spring season (a locker room post-football game on a rainy day doesn’t even begin to compete with these muddy canine torsos). Walking dogs in springtime. . . .Whoah.
["Mum, to be fair, we really don't have a choice about the fur on the belly thing. . . unlike Dad, for instance."]
Spring means a yard that resembles, just a little too close for comfort, that mountainous pile of garbage and muck that Roy builds in his kitchen in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Could it be any worse?
After all the snow and ice have melted, the ground underneath has heaved and repositioned itself, and the previously unmowed grass has wilted and yellowed, falling in heaps and whorls like matted hair shaved from an unkempt Goldendoodle (or was that an unkempt Joaquin Phoenix?)–what’s left is a sodden, muddy, tawny and gray yard that serves little purpose other than as bathroom for your dogs (see “Spring means mud,” above)–and awaits hours of your physical labor to clean it up and make it presentable. Whoah.
Am I being a tad too negative? Perhaps. After all, taxes mean I actually have a job (something for which I’m extremely grateful in these hard times). And muddy paws means I have two furry, exuberant Girls to brighten my every day. A yard means I can finally, finally learn how to garden (remember last year’s monstrous mint fiasco?).
And so, as an attempt to bridge the gap between winter and spring, I decided to make this salad.
This is a recipe I created several years ago for a cooking class entitled, “Anti Candida Feast” (a rather ambitious title, I think now). At the time, I wasn’t following the ACD myself, but had been asked by a few previous participants for an ACD-friendly menu. And while I adore juiced beets (my favorite combo is beet, carrot, and ginger juice), I’ve never been a fan of raw beets in any other context. I’ve always thought of beets as more of a winter veggie, to be roasted or boiled into soup. This salad seemed the perfect means to combine the spirit of spring (in a raw dish) with these lovely crimson roots.
With its emphasis on beets, carrots and cilantro, I thought it would be the perfect submission to Weekend Herb Blogging, the weekly event started by Kalyn and now run by Haalo. This week’s host is Anna from Anna’s Cool Finds.
When I told the HH I was making a raw beet and carrot salad for dinner, his response was, “Blecccchhhh. Beets taste like dirt.”
“But they’re good for your blood,” I countered.
“Don’t care,” he said. “Dirt.”
“But they cleanse the liver!”
“My liver is clean enough.”
“But” (and here, I admit I was reaching a bit)–”they can help test your transit time!”
“Transit time?? You mean, like, how long it takes the beets to go in one end and come out the oth—”
“Yep.”
“Okay, now I really don’t want to eat those beets.”
I mixed up the salad anyway, planning to consume it on my own. But something about the vibrant colors, the springlike fuscia and orange, the heady aroma of lime and cilantro in combination, persuaded him to take a bite. And in the end, he loved it!
“This doesn’t taste like beets at all,” he said, chewing on a mouthful of beets.
Seeing him devour that plate of salad, I felt happy to welcome the spring. Exhilarated, even.
Wheeeee!
[PS You've still got nine days to enter the Maple Syrup and Chocolate Cake Giveaway! Click here for details.]
This vibrant, refreshing salad combines the brisk tang of lime with the natural sweetness of beets and carrots. Crunchy pecans and pumpkinseeds offer textural contrast and a protein boost. A great spring salad!
1 large beet, peeled (it should be fresh and firm)
2 large carrots, peeled
1/2 cup (50 g) chopped pecans, lightly toasted
1/4 cup (35 g) pumpkin seeds, lightly toasted
1 clove garlic, minced
1/4 cup (60 ml) freshly squeezed lime juice (about 2 limes)
1/4 cup (60 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
3 Tbsp (45 ml) chopped cilantro or parsley
pinch fine sea salt
Using the medium grater on a food processor, mandolin, or hand grater, grate the beets and carrots and place in a medium bowl with the nuts and the seeds. Set aside.
In a small bowl, combine the garlic, lime juice, oil, cilantro and salt. Pour over the beet-carrot mixture and toss to coat everything well. Serve immediately. Makes 4 servings. Will keep, refrigerated, for 2 days.
Anti-candida variation: use an ACD friendly nut instead of the pecans (I used chopped Brazil nuts in the pictured salad, above).
[Little aside that has nothing to do with the rest of this entry: while glancing at WordPress stats before writing this post, I just realized that my previous entry was number 200 on this blog! Where has the time gone?? I'm really amazed that I've written 200 whole blog entries--seems like just yesterday I started writing here (or, at least, just 306 days ago). And what better way to celebrate than with yet another blog entry?]
I’ve always thought of beets as a much maligned foodstuff. I mean, they just don’t have the glamor or charm of more popular roots like carrots or parsnips, or even the whimsical appeal of tubers, like yams or potatoes. It’s like beets are the scrawny kid on the beach who gets sand thrown in his face by the jock, or maybe the chubby kid on the baseball field who’s last to be picked for the team. Poor, plump, unathletic beets!
It’s not just beets that evoke this reaction in me, of course. I for one have always been a sucker for the underdog. Is it because I myself have felt like an underdog much of the time? Is it because the underdog generally tends to be the more quirky, the more multi-faceted, the more interesting and more sensitive individual in any competition? Is it because I’ve seen Rocky too many times? Or is it just because the last syllable in the word “underdog” is “dog”?
With school just around the corner again (really, where HAS the time gone??), all this thought of underdogs reminded me of my own first week as an undergraduate at university. Knowing absolutely nothing about football but eager to take part in orientation activities, I attended the first intercollegiate football game on campus. Okay, actually, I had no interest whatsoever in being part of orientation, but I was pretty sure there might be some guys at the game. And I did want to meet guys.
Anyway, our team (“The Lancers”) were suffering a royal pummeling from the opposition (the celebrated Toronto team, if I remember correctly). Every time our guys messed up and fumbled the ball or narrowly missed a touchdown, they’d be greeted with fervent, ear-shattering boos and a chorus of hisses. Except for one guy, that is.
This one guy, a lone figure in the crowd, kept leaping to his feet after each mistake, punching his fists into the air above his head and bellowing, “Great effort, guys! Good for you! Way to go–great try!!” Talk about supporting the underdog! In fact, I was transfixed by this bizarre fellow. I mean, rooting for the losing team? I couldn’t help but think, ”Wow. That is really admirable. I’d love to meet that guy some time. Actually, I’d like to date that guy*.” In the end, our team still lost, but at least they felt appreciated.
These days, I’m a lot more willing to stand apart from the crowd and actively support a less popular concept or foodstuff (it’s pretty much the status quo whenever I eat with my family, anyway, given my oddball dietary restrictions). I tend to harbor the same overprotective feelings for foods I believe are unappreciated. Like beets. Even though the HH thinks they taste like dirt most of the time (never did ask how he’d know that fact), these earthy roots are one of my favorite foods. They’re loaded with folate and potassium; they have some powerful antioxidant properties and are known to help tone and cleanse the liver; they can reduce inflammation in some chronic conditions; and they double as a nifty lipstick in a pinch (thanks for the tip, Cleopatra!). And ever since I learned to roast instead of boil them, I’ve been entirely enamored of these beautiful burgundy bulbs.
If you’ve never been a fan, I’d highly recommend trying this recipe. After being roasted to bring out their natural sugars, the beets are cubed and tossed with quinoa, toasted walnuts, and a lemony, garlicky, tangy dressing. The recipe is a favorite of mine, and one I’ve been preparing regularly since the very first cooking class I taught back in 2003. If you’re avoiding fermented foods (as I am supposed to be doing now), simply omit the balsamic and use a bit more lemon juice instead; use dried mustard instead of dijon; and sweeten slightly with a few more drops of stevia.
Since we received both golden and red beets in our organic produce box last week, I made the salad with both types this time, but the results really are much more visually impressive made entirely with red beets, as they infuse the quinoa with a brilliant crimson hue that’s quite arresting. (I’ll include an updated photo next time I make it the usual way).
“Mum, in case you’ve forgotten, I’m the underdog in this house. I mean, I’m always under Elsie when we fight. And don’t you always tell me I’m underfoot, too? So I guess this means you think I’m ‘more quirky, more multi-faceted, more interesting and more sensitive,’ ? And aren’t you supposed to feed the underdog extra treats, too? “
Equally delicious cold in summer or warm in winter, this salad is full of cleansing and detoxifying ingredients: beets tone the liver, while cilantro helps to remove toxins from the system.
3-4 medium beets, washed and trimmed (do not peel)
1 c. (240 ml.) dry quinoa
2 cups (480 ml.) water
1/2 c. (120 ml.) walnuts, lightly roasted and cooled
2-3 cloves garlic, minced or grated
grated zest of one lemon
juice of one lemon (about 1/4 cup)
2 T. (30 ml.) balsamic vinegar
1/4 c. (60 ml.) extra-virgin olive oil
2 tsp. (10 ml.) dijon mustard
5 drops Stevia or sugar
1/3 cup (80 ml.) fresh cilantro, chopped
salt and pepper to taste
Preheat oven to 425 F.Wrap beets in foil and bake until extremely tender, about 45 minutes-1 hour.Let cool, then peel off the skins and dice into 3/4 inch (2-cm.) cubes.Set aside.
Bring water to boil in a small heavy saucepan.Rinse quinoa well and add to water.Return to boil, then reduce heat to low and cover.Allow to simmer, untouched, for 25 minutes, then check to see if water has been absorbed.If not, continue simmering until all water is absorbed, then uncover and allow to cool.(If you are in a hurry, you can turn the hot quinoa into a glass bowl at this point and place it in the fridge for about 30 minutes).
In a nonstick frypan, heat oil and add garlic and lemon zest.Cook and stir for 2 minutes, then add lemon juice, balsamic vinegar, oil, mustard and stevia.Remove from heat.
Add beets to cooled quinoa.Break walnuts into pieces and add to the bowl.Pour dressing (the liquid in the frypan) over and toss well until quinoa is tinted pink.Add cilantro and combine well. Season to taste with salt and pepper.This salad is even better the second day, after flavours meld.Makes 4 servings.
* We did meet eventually, and he was just as sweet, sensitive and quirky as he appeared to be at the game. Oh, and about a month later, he asked me to go out with him, and then he became my very first boyfriend. See? Sometimes, the underdog does get a break.
