Prehistoric Woman, Nhor (looking up from granite work surface toward prehistoric man as he appears at the top of the distant hill): “umh … good Mhor … green in hand … we eat good”
Prehistoric Man, Mhor (approaching prehistoric woman and holding vegetation toward her with outstretched hands): “umh … look Nhor … big green … grow good … small red”
Prehistoric Woman, Nhor (twisting off any red tuberous portions of the vegetation and tossing them onto the scrap pile in the corner of the prehistoric “cave kitchen”): “umh … good … red small … green more good”
Notwithstanding the idiosyncrasies of prehistoric grammar, syntax and reasoning – Mhor and Nhor had more in common with we modern types than we may care to admit! They just didn’t fully appreciate beets – even though they cultivated them routinely. For years – possibly even centuries – beets were a foundation element of their diet, but they only ate the green parts.
Time passed. In post-prehistoric times (hmmm, would that be in “historic times”?), the red bulb of the beet was used medicinally to treat headaches and toothaches, as a tisane or tea, but not eaten. By the 16th century, though, things changed. The beet root as we know it today, round in shape and substantial, had developed. It only took another two hundred years for the rounded beets to gain any real popularity as a food!
Then, throughout Europe, beets came into their own. In Russia, the emblematic soup borscht was born. From Scandinavia to England, from France to Italy and beyond, the time was right. Relatively easy to grow and consumable from stem to stern (so to speak), the beet was an excellent source of nourishment for swelling peasant populations.
Perhaps this longstanding link to peasant cooking was what once again relegated beets to the back burner, as cuisine and education “advanced” and beets were considered to be too “common” for modern times in much of the 19th (and some of the 20th) century. Thankfully, much of today’s best – and most sought after -- cooking harkens back to its peasant foundations. And, we find ourselves in a veritable beet-historic renaissance! Beets have a new image! Everything old is not only new again, but more creative.
Like other leafy greens, beet greens are loaded with nutrients and are easily prepared in a variety of ways (see the Ingredient Sleuth’s March 17 essay re. leafy greens for preparation ideas). And today, the red (or yellow-gold, in the case of some new varieties) round roots have moved from the brined jar and aluminum can into the mainstream of cooking, even in the highest of haute cuisine restaurants.
Beets can be used raw, as they have been for years in Italy and France. Peeled with a vegetable peeler and shredded, they are a sweet and vibrant addition to tossed salads. Or, they can be used as one component of those great, European-style composed salads, so popular in northern Europe, that feature several shredded raw vegetables, colorfully lined up side by side on an individual serving plate and topped with a vinaigrette dressing.
Beets can be boiled, steamed, microwaved, braised or baked in much the same way as potatoes – although cooking times will be somewhat longer. Beets are done when they can be pierced easily with the point of a sharp knife. To peel – or not to peel -- the only question is WHEN (before or after cooking), because beet skins have not yet come into fashion as a food item! Scrubbing the beets, then cooking, allowing to cool slightly and then peeling is a tried-and-true method. If baking them whole, skins on, it is always a good idea to prick them several times with a fork or sharp knife, just like potatoes, before baking.
Seasonings that blend especially well with beets include mint, parsley, thyme, horseradish, dill, citrus (juice and zest), nutmeg, oregano, cinnamon, caraway, mustard and coriander. And one of my favorites is rosemary – but then again, I could probably put rosemary on chocolate pudding and enjoy it! With this array of compatible flavors, virtually everyone should be able to chose one (or more) that will “speak” to them.
If you happen to live in Europe, let’s say Italy or France or England, you probably can just pop on over to your neighborhood grocer and pick up fresh, already-cooked (or in some cases wood-oven roasted) beets. Like many root vegetables, beets really are optimized when they are roasted. The natural sugars develop (and caramelize) by means of the exposure to roasting temperatures; dry heating also locks in the nutrition.
The following recipe for oven-roasted beets comes from Ina Garten’s marvelous book BAREFOOT IN PARIS: Easy French Food You CAN Make at Home (Clarkson Potter/Publishers, 2004). This dish also exemplifies the sensible recipes that fill this delightful book – real French food, that can be prepared on a regular basis, for and by real people – all with a reasonable number of ingredients and straightforward cooking techniques.
Ms. Garten writes that she believes in keeping recipes simple and, thereby, sustainable. Having moved from a career in the White House (working on nuclear energy policy) to a career as owner of the Barefoot Contessa specialty food store in New York, she brings the sensibilities of a day-in, day-out chef to her cooking. She knows what is required, not just to fill the plates at a family dinner party, but to keep the store counters stocked with tasty food that will keep customers coming back for more. After eighteen years in the specialty food shop business, Ms. Garten has moved to the world of cookbook writing and television. Her books, "Barefoot Contessa" programs on the TV Food Network, recipes and much more are detailed at her website: www.barefootcontessa.com.
ROASTED BEETS
12 beets
3 tablespoons good olive oil
1-1/2 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves, minced
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons raspberry vinegar
Juice of 1 large orange
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.
Remove the tops and the roots of the beets and peel each one with a vegetable peeler. Cut the beets in 1-1/2-inch chunks. (Small beets can be halved, medium ones cut in quarters, and large beets cut in eighths.)
Place the cut beets on a baking sheet and toss with the olive oil, thyme leaves, salt, and pepper. Roast for 35 to 40 minutes, turning once or twice with a spatula, until the beets are tender. Remove from the oven and immediately toss with the vinegar and orange juice. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and serve warm.
(Serves 6)
*Copyright Note: Ina Garten specifically authorized this recipe reprint, by the Ingredient Sleuth, in this posting.
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In this mouth-watering dish, the beets’ smooth richness and the thyme’s earthy liveliness are linked to the lighthearted high notes of tart raspberry vinegar and sweet orange juice. Rich, deep flavor -- tuned to brightness as sparkly as the Eiffel Tower’s hourly light shows!
It’s time to be on the lookout -- June to October is prime beet season in North America. Early in the season, baby beets with baby leaves still attached are available and can be cooked intact, green tip to red toe – a way, I think, that Mhor and Nhor would have enjoyed them, had they only known:
“Umh … good young taste … want more … red too!” Bon appetit!
Friday, May 13, 2005
Friday, May 06, 2005
Paste Pitch -- No More!
The Boys of Summer are back and another baseball season gets underway. Stadiums fill with eager fans, hot dog vendors cook up the links and the scent of popcorn wafts through the air.
The pitcher winds up and delivers the first pitch of the game – a curve ball, high and inside. “Ball one!” The crowd murmurs its reaction to the umpire’s call through mouths brimming with dogs and corn. The second pitch is a slider – right over the plate, just within the strike zone. “Stee-rike!” Once again, the pitcher squints into the sunlight as he grasps the ball for the next pitch. It’s a fastball, perfectly positioned. “Stee-rike!” The crowd becomes quiet, as the impending out can be sensed.
Just one more strike is needed. The pitcher winds up and delivers the pitch, at lightning speed, straight into the garbage can at the far end of the home team’s dugout! An awed silence fills the stadium. The catcher reacts and reaches the garbage can just as the apple core dislodged by the hurtling pitch bounds into the air. By instinct, he reaches his gloved hand into the garbage container to retrieve the pitch. And out it comes … a bright, shiny can of tomato paste!
The crowd goes wild (I had to say it – this IS a baseball story, after all)! The pitching coach explodes from the dugout, grabs the cap from his head, throws it to the ground and sends the pitcher packing. There is just one pitch that is NEVER allowed on this coach’s pitching staff: the tomato paste pitch!
I can certainly relate to the pitching coach’s opinion – it is the stuff of ingredient sleuth dreams! Time after time, can after can, year after year, I have resignedly pitched moldy tomato paste into my garbage can, shaking my head in disbelief that I have let it happen yet again. Filled with good intentions, of course, I had earlier placed the remainder of the tiny can’s contents into a glass container and wedged it into my refrigerator.
Whatever recipe I was making at the time – meat loaf, pasta sauce, hearty soup, Spanish rice, sloppy Joes, barbecued ribs, chicken cacciatore, red curry, pizza, salsa, jambalaya, pork stew – it undoubtedly called for one or two tablespoons of tomato paste. Because tomato paste is made from five times its own weight of tomatoes, it doesn’t take much to provide intense flavor. But, that often means that half (or more) of the can remains after some delectable dish has been prepared.
In general, once opened, canned tomato paste will keep for up to seven days in the refrigerator. If one’s cooking is organized – or voluminous – enough, perhaps the entire contents of the can will be used within that weeklong window of opportunity. Somehow, that never seems to have been the case, for me. The well-intentioned second dish of the week somehow seemed not to materialize, no matter how clearly I visualized it when the tomato paste can was zipped open. And hence, the inevitable tomato paste pitch occurred, yet again.
Finally, I have found two solutions that have banished the tomato paste pitch from my life! First, the remaining paste’s usable life can be extended to about six months by freezing. Many experts recommend freezing tablespoon-sized servings in ice cube trays, then removing them after they are frozen and packaging them in airtight freezer bags. This is a very good solution, but I must confess that something about the thought of washing those ice cube trays always dissuades me a bit!
I prefer to retrieve the nifty little baking tray from my toaster oven, cover it with a shiny piece of plastic wrap or waxed paper, and then put the tomato paste spoonfuls several inches apart on the sheet – as if I was making tomato paste cookies! I slide that tray into the freezer, let the paste dabs freeze, then peel them off and put them into a good, heavy-duty freezer bag. The dabs wait happily in my freezer – and I don’t even have to remember to thaw them before using them in most dishes. .
Recently, I discovered my favorite solution to the paste pitch problem, bar none. No ice cube trays, no plastic wrap, no scraping of that last remaining bit out of the tiny little can. The Italians figured it out – they put tomato paste into a tube! What genius, what sensible thriftiness, what flavor, all contained there in that squeezable packaging. The tubed paste has a longer refrigerator-life than the canned paste (up to three weeks). Although, ounce for ounce, or in this case gram for gram, it is more expensive than the canned paste, I rarely pitch any tubed paste into the garbage can – a cost offset, for sure. Also, I have found the squeezable paste to be very handy for speedy hors d’oeuvres, encouraging me to enjoy its nutrition benefits on a much-more-frequent basis than before.
Recent food and health literature has documented very well the benefits of tomatoes – particularly the cooked variety. Like all tomatoes, they provide excellent doses of potassium, vitamin A and vitamin C. The cooking involved with heat-processed tomatoes releases lycopene, the strong antioxidant contained within the skin that has been credited with reducing the likelihood of several major diseases.
With all those nutrition benefits, as well as its deep, rich flavor going for it, tomato paste is just way too valuable to waste. Tomato paste in tubes can be found in some major supermarkets, at international markets, Italian groceries and online. Finally, just like the ballpark – in my kitchen, no more tomato-paste pitches are allowed!
Batter up – and bon appetit!
The pitcher winds up and delivers the first pitch of the game – a curve ball, high and inside. “Ball one!” The crowd murmurs its reaction to the umpire’s call through mouths brimming with dogs and corn. The second pitch is a slider – right over the plate, just within the strike zone. “Stee-rike!” Once again, the pitcher squints into the sunlight as he grasps the ball for the next pitch. It’s a fastball, perfectly positioned. “Stee-rike!” The crowd becomes quiet, as the impending out can be sensed.
Just one more strike is needed. The pitcher winds up and delivers the pitch, at lightning speed, straight into the garbage can at the far end of the home team’s dugout! An awed silence fills the stadium. The catcher reacts and reaches the garbage can just as the apple core dislodged by the hurtling pitch bounds into the air. By instinct, he reaches his gloved hand into the garbage container to retrieve the pitch. And out it comes … a bright, shiny can of tomato paste!
The crowd goes wild (I had to say it – this IS a baseball story, after all)! The pitching coach explodes from the dugout, grabs the cap from his head, throws it to the ground and sends the pitcher packing. There is just one pitch that is NEVER allowed on this coach’s pitching staff: the tomato paste pitch!
I can certainly relate to the pitching coach’s opinion – it is the stuff of ingredient sleuth dreams! Time after time, can after can, year after year, I have resignedly pitched moldy tomato paste into my garbage can, shaking my head in disbelief that I have let it happen yet again. Filled with good intentions, of course, I had earlier placed the remainder of the tiny can’s contents into a glass container and wedged it into my refrigerator.
Whatever recipe I was making at the time – meat loaf, pasta sauce, hearty soup, Spanish rice, sloppy Joes, barbecued ribs, chicken cacciatore, red curry, pizza, salsa, jambalaya, pork stew – it undoubtedly called for one or two tablespoons of tomato paste. Because tomato paste is made from five times its own weight of tomatoes, it doesn’t take much to provide intense flavor. But, that often means that half (or more) of the can remains after some delectable dish has been prepared.
In general, once opened, canned tomato paste will keep for up to seven days in the refrigerator. If one’s cooking is organized – or voluminous – enough, perhaps the entire contents of the can will be used within that weeklong window of opportunity. Somehow, that never seems to have been the case, for me. The well-intentioned second dish of the week somehow seemed not to materialize, no matter how clearly I visualized it when the tomato paste can was zipped open. And hence, the inevitable tomato paste pitch occurred, yet again.
Finally, I have found two solutions that have banished the tomato paste pitch from my life! First, the remaining paste’s usable life can be extended to about six months by freezing. Many experts recommend freezing tablespoon-sized servings in ice cube trays, then removing them after they are frozen and packaging them in airtight freezer bags. This is a very good solution, but I must confess that something about the thought of washing those ice cube trays always dissuades me a bit!
I prefer to retrieve the nifty little baking tray from my toaster oven, cover it with a shiny piece of plastic wrap or waxed paper, and then put the tomato paste spoonfuls several inches apart on the sheet – as if I was making tomato paste cookies! I slide that tray into the freezer, let the paste dabs freeze, then peel them off and put them into a good, heavy-duty freezer bag. The dabs wait happily in my freezer – and I don’t even have to remember to thaw them before using them in most dishes. .
Recently, I discovered my favorite solution to the paste pitch problem, bar none. No ice cube trays, no plastic wrap, no scraping of that last remaining bit out of the tiny little can. The Italians figured it out – they put tomato paste into a tube! What genius, what sensible thriftiness, what flavor, all contained there in that squeezable packaging. The tubed paste has a longer refrigerator-life than the canned paste (up to three weeks). Although, ounce for ounce, or in this case gram for gram, it is more expensive than the canned paste, I rarely pitch any tubed paste into the garbage can – a cost offset, for sure. Also, I have found the squeezable paste to be very handy for speedy hors d’oeuvres, encouraging me to enjoy its nutrition benefits on a much-more-frequent basis than before.
Recent food and health literature has documented very well the benefits of tomatoes – particularly the cooked variety. Like all tomatoes, they provide excellent doses of potassium, vitamin A and vitamin C. The cooking involved with heat-processed tomatoes releases lycopene, the strong antioxidant contained within the skin that has been credited with reducing the likelihood of several major diseases.
With all those nutrition benefits, as well as its deep, rich flavor going for it, tomato paste is just way too valuable to waste. Tomato paste in tubes can be found in some major supermarkets, at international markets, Italian groceries and online. Finally, just like the ballpark – in my kitchen, no more tomato-paste pitches are allowed!
Batter up – and bon appetit!
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