Food and Drink

I was thrilled to see Araxi executive chef Andrew Richardson in a recent ad in the Pique proudly but tenderly presenting a bouquet of hearty beets, greens and all. These often overlooked veggies need all the good P.R. they can muster.

When it comes beets on the road to haute cuisine, they fell off the shoulder and into the ditch long ago, relegated to the same lowly status as, say, cabbage and turnips. Farmer food, my granny would say. Although poor turnips slink along in an even more pejorative role, as in the ultimate insult to sophistication and intelligence from days gone by: you just fell off the turnip truck.

This isn’t by accident, or simply a leftover from the days of "DPs" (displaced persons) coming to Canada from eastern Europe after World War II, bringing with them their earthy food preferences.

In Food: A Culinary History we learn that even the Romans, in their erstwhile concerns over status and the subsequent classification of foods for the "rich" (dieus) and the "poor" (pauper), relegated beets as food exclusively for the poor. Likewise, faba or broad beans ("faba" is a play on words: "faber" means "worker"). The cabbage, lowly radish and even broccoli were, too, all foods for the uncouth, suitable only for a poor man’s dinner and a good laugh when served to the wrong – meaning aristocratic – people in the wrong way.

So heads up, beets. When people like Andrew shake off centuries of baggage and "rediscover" you, you’re definitely on the high road to fame and fortune, and thousands more dinner plates.

Maybe la-de-da Romans shunned beets because they were afraid of staining their best togas while lolling about at a banquet. I know my granny took extra precautions when serving beet pickles, warning all within hearing range not to get beet juice on her best white linen tablecloth. Eating beets was always associated with a bit of anxiety for me after that.

While beets come in a variety of colours – yellow, orange or, even white – they are best known for their "beet-red" roots. The compounds responsible for same dreaded staining are called betalains, one of the family of four compounds responsible for all vegetable-based pigments. Beets and the fuchsia fruit of the prickly pear are the only edible sources of betalains, but they also colour flowers like the bright bougainvillea.

In beets, the characteristic purple/red/violet colour comes from a pigment called betanin. Different amounts of pigment in the vascular system vs. the storage tissue of the root account for the different coloured rings when you cut across a beet.

Poor granny needn’t have worried about beet stains – betalains, like so many other vegetable-based dyes, are water-soluble. You usually get into trouble adding soap or other cleaners, but for removing beet stains (or for that matter cherries, blueberries or any other heavy hitter stains) try this fail-proof tip: Pour a kettle full of boiling water over the stain from on high, then wash as usual. I’ve rescued many a favourite shirt this way. Just be sure to check that the fabric can handle such hot water.

Romans, Celts – people across the ages have used beetroot to dye all sorts of things, including other foods. If you think you don’t like beets, you might be getting a dose of same when you eat anything from pizza to sausages or strawberry ice cream – they all use pigment from beets, officially known as E162, to enhance colour.

And that’s the other problem about beets. A lot of people say they don’t like their sharp taste. My theory is that’s because the only thing they know to do with them is whack off the leaves (eliminating, in my humble opinion, one of their best assets) and boil the heck out of them. One roommate I had once didn’t know better and peeled them before boiling. All the betalains and the nutrients, of course, washed out, leaving scary whitish beets that she ended up throwing out because they looked so weird.

All classism aside, more and more people like Andrew are appreciating and putting to full advantage the pungent, earthy taste of beets. For me, on a cold winter’s day, a bowl of borscht is a dream come true. But that just may be my Edmonton roots coming out.

If you’re lazy you can try a commercial variety, but I usually find them too salty. So here’s an easy recipe with guaranteed good results:

Borscht

(from 1,000 Vegetarian Recipes )

3 c. peeled, cubed beets

2 1/2 c. water

1 1/2 c. good-quality commercial or homemade vegetable broth

1 small onion, quartered

2 tbsp. sugar

1/4 tsp. salt, or to taste

2 c. shredded beets

In a 3-quart saucepan over medium-high heat, combine cubed beets, water, broth, onion, sugar and salt. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 20 minutes. Strain liquid into a container, pressing liquid from the vegetables into the soup. Discard veggies. Return beet broth to the pot and add shredded beets. Simmer 5 minutes or until cooked to desired doneness. Chill for summer. Serve hot for winter. Top with boiled potatoes, boiled eggs or sour cream/yogurt if desired.

Choose beetroots that are firm and have unblemished skins. Ideally, the leaves should be attached. Never peel them before cooking. Gently wash your beets – heavy scrubbing may damage the skin and cause bleeding, which means loss of colour and nutrients. You can peel raw beetroots and grate them in salads and the like.

To boil beetroots, cover them in lightly salted water, and bring to a boil, covered, then simmer 30 minutes to 2 hours for really big ones, depending on size. An hour is usually good for most medium-sized ones. Don’t overcook them or they will go hard. And don’t use an aluminum pot or they’ll become bitter. Cool the beets in cold water and the skins will slip right off.

If you want really rich flavour out of your beets, try baking them. Wrap each one individually in aluminum foil and place on a pan. Bake at 160-180 C (320-355 F) for 45-90 minutes, depending on size. An hour is usually enough for small to medium-sized beets; small ones may cook in as little as 20 minutes.