Beets (Semi-Rant and Recipe)

Okay, this is a different kind of post for me.  If I had a cooking or gardening blog (which I do not), it would be more suitable there, but here goes nothing!

Beets.  They are absolutely gorgeous, aren’t they?  Those brilliant purple-red roots; or gold, or pink if you are lucky enough to spot a candycane beet from time to time, are so pretty I wish I liked to eat them.  Now, if only they tasted as good as they look, all would be well.  To me, though, they taste like dirt, or iron, coated in sugar.  Not a pleasant thing at all.

Something so pretty has no right to taste so bad,

So, someone is bound to ask me why that is a problem for me, at 46?  I am no longer the child of 9, sitting at the dinner table, fork hovering over that beautiful purple slice of vegetable that I will gag on as I try to eat it.  One word:  CSA.  I have a membership to a CSA (community-sponsored agriculture), which gives me access to loads of fresh, organic, local produce. Unfortunately, that also includes beets.

I love the greens.  They are so good sautéed with a little olive oil and garlic.  It is those jewel-toned roots I can’t stand.  I cannot, however, throw out a vegetable which has been grown for consumption.  My parents were depression babies, and  the thought of all that waste would sicken them.  Not to mention, they both liked beets, which is why I had to eat my “no thank you” helpings every summer, right from their garden.

As an adult, I have overcome a lot of my food phobias.  I now eat Brussels sprouts and eggplant, and have come to love their flavors.  Not beets.  So, yesterday, in desperation, I looked up a recipe for a beet cake.  Yes.  A cake made from shredded raw beets.  My theory was, if it tasted like a dirt cake with cream cheese frosting, all I had done was waste some sugar, eggs, and flour.

Yum! This is not a picture of my actual cake–the camera is on the fritz.

Guess what?  We loved it.  I would never call this healthy (way too much oil and sugar for that), but as an indulgence, it was wonderful.  My son (who hates most vegetables) even asked me to make this cake for his birthday at the end of this month.  The recipe, adapted from food.com, follows:

Eat Your Vegetables Caaaaake (the multiple A’s are for all the beta carotene that has to be in this cake)

4 eggs
2 cups sugar (I used brown, not packed)
1 cup canola oil
2 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground allspice (or nutmeg)
2 teaspoons vanilla
3 cups shredded fresh beets
1 cup shredded carrots
1 cup chopped walnuts (or almonds)

Heat oven to 350 °, grease and flour 13×9 baking pan.  Beat eggs, sugar and oil until light and fluffy. Stir together flour, baking powder, baking soda and spices.  Add to egg mixture and mix well.  Add vanilla, beets, carrots and nuts.  Beat for 1 minute on medium speed.  Pour into pan, bake for 45 minutes, or until a pick comes out clean.

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astronauts

There are degrees drawn in the heart
echoing lines calculating the absoluteness of  zero,
scaling to meet the incalescence swaddling a birth of stars.
We are long past nova or theoretical lack of motion,
drift weightless;  serene, wrapped in vacuum.

I need this place for us, absent of gravity
where nothing is measurable; where even sound
is less event and more wave.   This way,
when I speak your name you will know it
not through ears, but somewhere deeper
than senses ever reach.

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the dead don’t love

The dead don’t love
the way we know it
but they yearn,

a sealed sweet sleeping
like jarred honey inside pyramids

until what’s clay breaks,
releasing open and live
what sustains

lost under all that dust

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Post-Racialism in a World of Niggers and Crackers

From melting pot to gumbo pot, we are all in the same stew, bubbling at the same heat.

Adriene (A. D. Joyce)'s avatarSweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World

I continue to be intrigued by this idea of post racialism and am still trying to figure out exactly what that looks like. Some people are afraid, and rightly so, that post-racialism means that we all will start to look and talk the same and that our identities will dissolve into a common, post-racial culture. Indeed, there are some who would rather not acknowledge people’s differences because it makes them feel uncomfortable.

For instance,

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some days

Some days must be met
mouth open, gasped
to swallow a heat
that stains mouths shameless.

Dizzy on sweet, aimless
as bees tasting turned nectar
we circle the day.  This is the dance.
We know it, choreographed
not in steps but hours,
a reel of afternoons
greened under fingernails
no soap can wash off
these hands, made to stay dirty,
to pull up this full bitten into ripe

by the roots.

***less a poem, more of a passing thought.

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We are too far from dust

We are too far from dust
in this high bed for dreaming.

I am no princess, sleepless
for the sake of a cowpea
under a mountain of mattresses.

Make love to me
on sisal.

Twigs and all, let me sleep close to earth,
body shaped to spoon the grasp
of this planet.  Let me remember
in gravity what I am made of and what owns me.

Let me be reminded of the mud
I will become.

**the beginning of something bigger, I think.

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