'But while the rest of the city was running rabid to the store last night, desperately nabbing food to get them through the weekend of snow drifts, I was able to just walk down the steps to my basement and look over my shelves of preserved goodies that have been such a treat over this entire winter: pears, peaches, beans, jams, and pickled beets. That’s right…pickled beets. Ever had such a thing?'
'I suspect pickled beets are a culinary colloquialism, part of my Pennsylvania Dutch heritage, but I could be wrong. All I really know is that I love them, though that wasn’t always the case. When I was a girl, my mom would make large batches of jars full of bright pink chunks of pickled beets, and it was my job to cart them down the narrow stairs to our root cellar to fill the cupboards there. I’m not sure if it was resentment for all the lugging or just the underdeveloped tastes of a kid, but pickled beets equaled “yuck!” in my young mind. Oddly enough, I don’t think we ever ate fresh beets, roasted or otherwise, when I was growing up.'
Note: For healthier beets: Substitute Sucanat for sugar. And use raw, apple cider vinegar instead of distilled, white vinegar.
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