Beautiful Beets

I think that I found the remedy for every illness out there: beets.  

Twice someone has brought roasted beets to cooking club, and I finally remembered to make them for dinner this week.  They are delicious.  I can't get enough.  Especially with some creamy goat cheese spread on them.  It makes me want to slap my mama, which she is going to need after reading this.  She's probably passed out on the floor after reading that I LOVE beets.  

When I was a child, we ate a local restaurant that served endless salad.  The salad had beets on it, and she always asked for extra beets-it was awful.  I tried one every time that we went, and never liked them.  (That was my mom's eating rule: we don't have to eat it, we just have to try it.  Which turned out well, because my brothers and I will eat just about anything.)

Yesterday, I started the process of roasting them.  I googled a recipe and found one that seemed easy enough.  

I ripped off the stalks.  With my bare hands.  And let out a little growl.

I rinsed and scrubbed them.  And took a picture while I did that.

I placed them in foil, drizzled some olive oil, sprinkled the salt, and covered them in foil.  I roasted them for 2 hours (because they were pretty large) at 400.  They were nice and safe in their foil home.

After letting them cool, the skins peeled off easily.  I chopped them into cubes for salad and wa-la.  The cure for cancer.  Or the common cold.  Or the cure for feeling bad about myself.

One bite of these and I know that my body was thanking me.  All that color and texture, I just know it's packed with nutrients to the max.

Burl even got some on his little salad plate.  I was worried how this would go over with John and Burl.  Since Burl mimics everything John does, I whispered a little something to John, "Ok, I'm going to give Burl beets.  Don't act like it's a huge thing.  Play it cool.  And if you don't like them, then don't let him see you NOT eat them."  

I set the salad plate in front of Burl, along with his soup.  "Burl, here's your soup, some lettuce, and beets."  I played it cool, like getting him to eat beets is totally normal.  Inside I was wondering, "Is he going to eat them?  Is he going to spit them out?"  He ate them.  All of them.  Like it was his job.  He loved them.  Outside-I didn't acknowledge that this was huge.  Inside-I was high-fiving and fist-bumping myself for getting him to eat all the goodness!

Burl's little salad plate.

I've never been a fan of the maroon and dark green combo.  Until I saw these leaves. 

To be honest, I'm not sure that I would have liked beets if someone had served them to me in any other setting than cooking club.  I would have politely turned them down.  With all the great cooks at cooking club, eating and enjoying everything, and raving about them, my prejudice was set aside.  The little girl who tried them so many times was told to give them one more chance.  

And grown up Meg was impressed.  When John told me that he was not a fan, I was a little sad.  Oh well.  I can eat them for lunch when he's not here.  He might think they taste like dirt and roots, but I think they taste like long life and good eye sight.  And I plan on using them to cure any illness that comes our way.