Food as Teacher
Ever since I was a child I've known that I dislike beets. Beets? No thank you. I can't stand beets. A few weeks ago I went to the El Cerrito Farmers Market. I bought a beautiful piece of fish; I purchased some handmade tamales. I wandered among the booths, hoping something irresistible would catch my eye. I found myself in front of a winter vegetable stand. But what were those large and lovely gnarly roots, looking a bit like parsnips only a deep cranberry color? Beets. Oh, I hate beets. A little voice in my head asked, when's the last time you actually tasted a beet? Oh, only thirty or forty (or fifty?) years ago. What's your point? Being the wild and crazy adventurer I am, I decided to buy one beet. It was a big one, though, probably 5 inches in diameter, big enough for Z and me to each try a portion.
You've guessed how this is going to end. I took the beet home, peeled it, sliced it and steamed it for a few minutes. (It was beautiful nestled in the stainless steel steamer.) Then I tossed the softened red chunks into a small pan with some sesame oil and chopped onion for a few minutes more and, voila. The results tasted so good--creamy and sweet. The next week I went looking for beets, this time at the Berkeley Bowl. As you can see, above, I bought more than one. And, talk about wild and crazy, this time I even cooked up the greens. Delicious!
The beets experience has left me wondering what other pleasures I've deprived myself of by exiling them from my life before giving them a chance. My goal for the time being is to stay vigilant and try to examine my own de facto prejudices before I accept them as real. (What? Go to a movie about a drunken country and western singer? I don't like that kind of movie. Well, guess what.) Already I've noticed more than one time that I was on the verge of rigid but unexamined behavior. I've stopped, and pondered whether I was beeting myself. Food, as it were, for thought.
Bonus photos: Fog on the path this morning; blossoms too (this is a running blog, after all).
You've guessed how this is going to end. I took the beet home, peeled it, sliced it and steamed it for a few minutes. (It was beautiful nestled in the stainless steel steamer.) Then I tossed the softened red chunks into a small pan with some sesame oil and chopped onion for a few minutes more and, voila. The results tasted so good--creamy and sweet. The next week I went looking for beets, this time at the Berkeley Bowl. As you can see, above, I bought more than one. And, talk about wild and crazy, this time I even cooked up the greens. Delicious!
The beets experience has left me wondering what other pleasures I've deprived myself of by exiling them from my life before giving them a chance. My goal for the time being is to stay vigilant and try to examine my own de facto prejudices before I accept them as real. (What? Go to a movie about a drunken country and western singer? I don't like that kind of movie. Well, guess what.) Already I've noticed more than one time that I was on the verge of rigid but unexamined behavior. I've stopped, and pondered whether I was beeting myself. Food, as it were, for thought.
Bonus photos: Fog on the path this morning; blossoms too (this is a running blog, after all).
Comments
Those are beautiful photos - very inspirational. Thanks for sharing.