In which she sees pink

Shamefully my writing has withered on the vine of no inspiration with little done to resuscitate breath or form. My time has been spent in part, patiently waiting in mock scholarly fashion upon the odd laboratory set up in the recesses of my kitchen cupboard where lacto-fermentation experiments age to near perfection. In unison it would seem, I too slung slow in quiet invisible reverie, imitating the very manner of my closeted minuscular cohorts. After all who needs the fuss of too many singular ingredients chopped and cooked just so, added to the synchronization of each moving part into one harmonic whole? I’ve got kraut with pow, zip, and swing; and I don’t mind saying that it has become my “go to” accessory which enlivens and occasionally even rectifies just about every food scenario.

But months of crunching upon lactic acid soaked veggies has created a now gnawing need for an opulent, richly marbled counterpart, something perhaps- like a fatty pink patty. As it is a rare occasion when I purchase beef and though devilishly armed with my beloved Foreman Grill, something quite extraordinary must stroll my way in order to be steered in that direction. Something perhaps like a bejeweled burger richly anointed.

The first iteration of this beef motif showed up with the same friend who brought me the B-52’s and LOTR. Armed with sliced butter pickles and cheese, we formed hunks of ground chuck into lumpy softballs and wiggled our thumbs into the sides, meat doughnuts asking to be filled. Coins of pickles and wads of Kraft American were obligingly stuffed into their hidden caves. Pan fried and no nonsensically slapped onto a bun, this was a true gustatory revelation eaten in hungry silence. Years later I would upgrade to a slightly more refined version of the“secret” burger now containing a royal cache of blue cheese and chopped onion. However as delicious as it was, I couldn’t help feeling led astray by the name. The tell tale crumbles of Blue which should have hollered out “Ahoy!” instead melted down into an invisible nonexistent whimper, a mere whiff of eau d’bleu.

So rightfully pleased I was to discover this third and most charmed version in a recent Saveur perusal. In this Swede inspired dream, cubes of pickled beets make merry with chopped pickles, onions, and even chunks of dairy rich butter. Being ever so efficiently designed, the pickled bits and creamy counterparts are simply mixed into the venison/beef/reindeer rather than stuffed and sealed. Served in my mind on rye bread with a hearty back slap of stout mustard and blue cheese, this burger brings the best of all worlds seen and in between. To boot, the red cabbage kraut I have been nurturing these past months would make a most welcomed mouthwatering and visual partner.

In other terms this burger represents at least one of my favorite flavor profiles, the one that might wear a handmade fisherman sweater, smoke a pipe, and shout out, “Ahoy”. But then there is that confusing pink coloration which makes one fear the meat is far too rare, all the while flaunting a somewhat feminine lilt of allspice. In deep consideration of this little bit of heaven lovingly seared in butter with a barely sweet tender center; perhaps pink holds more complexity than previously assumed. No one liner relegated to bubble gum and soda fountain drinks, this intersection between red and white just might be where intensity and gentleness play. And that is absolutely worth writing about.

*Thank you to everyone who continues to read in spite of my travels to faraway places...

Biff à la Lindström: adapted from Saveur issue no. 117, serves 4
Ingredient:
1 lb. ground beef
½ C bread crumbs
5 tbsp. chopped pickled beets
2 tbsp. pickled beet juice
3 tbsp. chopped pickles
2 tbsp. dark beer
1 tsp. salt
½ tsp black pepper
2 eggs beaten
1 clove garlic chopped
½ onion, finely chopped
2 tbsp. butter diced
2 tbsp. parsley chopped

Directions: Combine all ingredients in a bowl until just mixed. Divide mixture into 8 patties, one inch thick. Heat butter in a nonstick pan over medium heat. Cook half of the burgers, approximately 5 minutes each side until browned. Repeat with remaining burgers. Enjoy with coarse mustard, blue cheese, rye bread, and kraut.

To Beet or Not to Beet

In very short order I can rattle off the names of a few vegetables that will elicit at least a small gag reflex even from the usual die hard vegetable lover... BEETS (Beta Vulgaris), PARSNIPS (Pastinaca sativa), TURNIPS (Brassica rapa) and RUTABAGAS (Brassica napus). As the mercury drops I find myself sniffing down into the earth with a hunger for these steady stores of nourishment. These root vegetables are seen as a homely lot, the ugly stepsisters to summer’s resplendent blessing. I stop briefly to consider this while loading my larder with these unpretentious bulbous beauties. To my mind, these subterranean citizens deserve a little attention and possess a subtle kind of charm. Their skins are rough with wear from the tumble and turn of soil, but they bespeak of an honest relationship with their humble surroundings. And much like an animal ready for hibernation, one can imagine their slow incremental gains in weight and flavor blanketed by the deep blind night.

My unlikely love for the beet came off the heels of my first job at Burger King. Admittedly with some satisfaction I still can recall my self appointed title of Salad Bar Queen. For me this meant impeccably maintaining the refrigerated stainless steel display of vegetable fixings with an eye towards creating appetizing order and beauty. I gravitated towards arranging containers of salad ingredients contrasting color and texture. I kept watchful surveillance on my bar while deftly handing out endless hot trays of hamburger-your-way and fries. Between orders I replenished vanishing slices of cucumber, fished out tired shreds of iceberg and captured rogue peas as they traveled to inappropriate locations. I fluffed up the ornamental kale placed around each crock to give the illusion of mounds of food upon a vast lawn of greenery and I even obsessively wiped up clumsy spills of dressing which threatened to uglify my little paradise. I was a premature food stylist and the vegetal oasis within this fast food joint was my high school pride and joy. Naturally I dipped from the garden of delight, this palette of pleasure when it was time for my work break, composing a salad of stellar heights. Skillfully balanced atop a shallow tan plastic bowl I placed a thin mat of lettuce with a few shreds of purple cabbage and carrot. On top of this- two cool cucumber slices, a small scoop of potato salad and a few magenta rounds of canned beets. I adorned this arrangement with three tomato wedges and finished the pile off with a glad shower of mushroom slivers, a handful of sunflower seeds, a tumble of peas, a scatter of cheese, a few croutons and then a shameless dousing of Ranch dressing. This gravity defying feat widened my vision to include the canned squat root which incidentally left its pink rivulet calling card upon the neighboring potato salad. I was fascinated and a little horrified by the audacity of this vegetable but nevertheless within the tinted glass confines of the local Burger King, at the bottom of my salad bowl, my full fledged allegiance for the beet began.

Still, I understand the scorn many people feel. Canned beets are pretty at best but they are watery and bland forming into an immediate sweet pink slush within the mouth. Fresh, these obstinate knobs are uninviting and hard like a rock. While the color of the flesh can be vibrantly hued from crimson to yellow, their thick outer skin tends to be a muddied down version, dull and cheerless. They are a beastly bunch to be sure, marking territory knowing no bounds whether shirt, cutting board or counter top with tell tale bloody stains. Beets are a risky business and I am immune to the work or the dirt involved with their preparation. They are a labor of love.

Generously one gets two vegetables for the price of one. After purchasing beets, the tops can be immediately chopped off to be consumed that night or the next. They are chard like, a bit bitter and take well to garlic, olive oil and a squeeze of lemon. Do be careful to clean the leaves thoroughly. There is usually quite a bit of dirt lurking within the greens and ribbed stems as well. Next, I leave about a ½” of stem above the bulb and slightly trim the tail. Since I try to curtail the mess, I cut the beet as little as possible. Instead encase the entire orbs within foil and allow the oven to do the transformative work. Once cooked, the dark coarse skin easily slips off to reveal a glistening jewel. Beets are diamonds in the rough. Their flavor and color are condensed intensity: slippery sanguine ruby red, scarlet with a faint aftertaste of dirt, the taste of pure pulsating vitality. Eating a beet is taking a juicy bite out of life. It is sweet, shockingly beautiful, vibrant, hard to crack, messy and a bit bitter. Plus it is chock full of fiber, folic acid, anti oxidants and assists to detoxify your liver to boot. To beet or not to beet, should it really be a question? Taking a cue from the color of the leaves that abound, I am moved by the russets, burnt umbers, and yellow tinged reds of autumn. Bone sticking Red Flannel Hash sounds appealing both visually and emotionally. Whether it is called hash, mash, resuscitated leftovers or hodgepodge jumble- this is essentially my way of doing food. First assess the root cellar and inspect the vegetables in question. We are looking for firm, weighty, even skinned subjects. Since this meal is guided completely by personal preference, do include as many roots as possible without causing the gag reflex mentioned earlier. I selected one large sweet potato, three smallish beets and two small-medium yellow finn potatoes. Scrub, remove any blemishes, quasi peel and chop into medium sized pieces. The beets I left larger and didn’t peel until later. Steam everything until not quite tender, keep in mind that there will be additional frying later. Next dice one onion ,one yellow pepper and stem, seed and dice a poblano chile. Chop up about a 1/3 of a can of Spam. Remember this is personalized so choose your meat wisely! Fry in a pan the onions, pepper, chile and spam until it is slightly caramelized, then mix in the pre-steamed root veggies. Mix gently and cook allowing the mixture to brown slightly and flavors to meld. Add salt and pepper to taste and a generous swirl of cream if desired. If you want that really browned look, you will need to make sure your pan is well seasoned (preferably with a good dose of bacon grease) and don’t stir the root celebratory jumble too much. Fry or poach an egg or two. Place a generous mound of the Red Flannel in a deep bowl and slide the egg/s on top and sprinkle with chopped parsley. I especially like a few coarse grains of finishing salt and a fat dollop of plain yogurt as well. Eat now, talk later.