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Sunday, January 8, 2012

Beets.

I still don't love 'em.  And I don't think I ever will.  I did vow today that the next time I'm at the store I'll pick up that other color of beet...yellow?  What is it?  But man, it tastes like I just ate something out of the compost pile.  Disgusting. 

I belong to a Facebook group that's called :: the secret life of beets ::.  It's all about the virtues of juicing & smoothie making.  The administrator is passionate about beets.  Seems lots are!  As a matter of fact, my Uncle Bob sent me this email:

"Oh, you're so wrong about beets!  Beets play a major role in the novel, Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins.  They have been one of my favorite vegetables since reading the book.  I often have them raw, without skins, in a salad.  Also roasted with potatoes and scallions - but you might want to put the beets in a little later than the potatoes."

Here's the excerpt that he's talking about:
 
The Bill
For Darrell Bob Houston
By Tom Robbins (from the last chapter of Jitterbug Perfume)


THE BEET IS THE MOST INTENSE of vegetables.  The onion has as many pages as War and Peace, every one to make a strong man weep, but the various ivory parchments of the onion and the stinging green bookmark of the onion are quickly charred by belly juices and bowel bacteria.  Only the beet departs the body the same color as it went in.

Beets consumed at dinner will, come morning, stock a toilet bowl with crimson fish, their hue attesting to beet’s chromatic immunity to the powerful digestive acids and thoroughgoing microbes that can turn the reddest pimento, the orangest carrot, the yellowest squash into a single disgusting shade of brown.

At birth we are red-faced, round, intense, pure.  The crimson fire of universal consciousness burns in us.  Gradually, however, we are devoured by parents, gulped by schools, chewed up by peers, swallowed by social institutions, wolfed by bad habits, and gnawed by age; and by the time we have been digested, cow style, in those six stomachs, we emerge a single disgusting shade of brown.

The lesson of the beet, then, is this: hold on to your divine blush, your innate rosy magic, or end up brown.  Once you’re brown, you’ll find that you’re blue.  As blue as indigo.  And you know what that means:
   Indigo.
   Indigoing.
   Indigone.

Uncle Bob, I love you, but I don't think I'm ever going to love a beet.  But I will keep trying...

4 comments:

  1. Beets are frightening. I hope you can come to some kind of understanding in your beet relationship. Loving these detox posts!

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  2. I love beets. Grandma and I used to have them all the time. By the way, we are selling our juicer if you know anyone who is interested. We just got a blendtec blender and we doing whole food juicing instead--

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  3. not gonna eat beets...nope, no way

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  4. I have tried beets many, many ways. I use to get them all the time from the CSA. There is not one recipe I can recommend. Beets = yuck!

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