Some years ago, a fairly well-known chef/restaurateur near where I live told the possibly apocryphal story about a conversation she once had with Alice Waters, who had asked her about eating locally in Connecticut.
“Alice,” she said, “what the hell am I going to do? Feed my guests turnips eight months out of the year?”
I was thinking about this yesterday, when I headed over to my local farmer’s market. Actually, I was looking forward to the fact that the apple-laden tables were likely going to start giving way to turnips, which is perfectly okay with me: I love turnips, especially in canard aux navets. But when I got there, only three or four tables remained standing. One was selling green tomatoes and baby mustard greens, one was selling baby beets, and one was selling bread. And there it was—a sign I hadn’t expected to see for a while:
LAST MARKET OF THE SEASON….SEE YOU NEXT SPRING!
It’s October 20th today, nearly sixty degrees, and yesterday’s market was the last of the season? I spoke to the market manager briefly who shrugged when I mentioned that I’d visited the farmer’s market in Santa Fe—which lives at 7200 feet, like the rest of Santa Fe—last January in the midst of a major snowstorm, and while there was virtually nothing that was fresh in the way of produce, there were gorgeous local meats, delicious goat cheeses from the remarkable South Mountain Dairy (which we visited with Deborah Madison, and where I managed to get my rented Corolla stuck in the snow. You’ve not seen anything until you’ve witnessed Deborah Madison, Susan, and a passel of lady goat farmers standing behind your car, pushing it.), dried chiles and beans galore, dried herbs, bread, and a lot more. So when I think about the question that Alice asked my local chef, it was not at all out of line: there should be a lot more than turnips available in Connecticut during Fall and Winter. But hell, I couldn’t even find those yesterday. And the market was shutting down for the season.
So I wound up with a few bunches of spicy greens and a bunch of baby beets, which is a funny thing; I never ate beets—I actually loathed them, in the way fifty percent of the population loathes cilantro—until one afternoon a few years ago, when I saw them in my local (good quality) supermarket. Just like that, I stood there, staring them down, thinking how gorgeous they were and how lush the greens were and suddenly, my mouth started to water. Right then and there, I called Susan from my cell phone and told her to expect a surprise for dinner; she loves beets and it was a point of contention between us that I couldn’t be in the same room with them much less cook them.
My plan was simple: roast them with a little olive oil, scrape off their jackets, quarter and toss them—still hot—with orange sections, thinly sliced red onion, hot red pepper, a few sprigs of fresh tarragon, a bit of salt, and a little crumbly goat cheese. Which is to say that I managed to somewhat disguise their flavor entirely, all while feeling very haughty about overcoming my fear and loathing of them. Susan was shocked, and ever since then, I’ve managed to convince myself that beets are my friends.
We come in peace.
Over time, I’ve lightened my preparation of them dramatically, and last night—when I had a yen to taste earth and locality and all the things that I’ll miss between now and the re-opening of my farmer’s market in the Spring—I did as little as possible to them: I roasted and drizzled them with some sherry vinegar, a few drops of walnut oil, and a light sprinkling of sea salt.
They were sweet and good, and just a little bit wistful.
Roasted Beets with Walnut Oil and Sea Salt
(adapted from The Art of Simple Food, by Alice Waters)
1 pound baby beets, greens removed (and reserved if you’d like)
1 teaspoon sherry vinegar
good quality walnut oil
sea salt, to taste
Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F. Rinse the dirt off the beets, dry completely, place in a cast iron pan, cover with aluminum foil, and roast until tender, about 40 minutes. Remove from the pan, and scrape off the beet skin with a teaspoon. Quarter the beets (or halve them if they’re particularly small), place in a bowl, and drizzle with the vinegar and a few drops of walnut oil. Season to taste with salt, and serve warm, or at room temperature.
What I find goes magically with roasted beets is a garnish of roasted pine nuts.
Sounds delicious–
Oh no!!! How disappointing to have the Farmers’ Market close just when Cooking Season (ie: cold weather) gets going. We are lucky over here (west of you, on the Hudson River) as the Cold Spring (Saturday) and Beacon (Sunday) Farmers’ Markets are given space to move indoors for winter. Yes, the selection is far smaller, but meat, eggs, fish, baked goods, and pantry items are there. I don’t know how the economics work out for the vendors– but I really appreciate their efforts to give us year ’round local products. Yea farmers!!!
Can’t imagine it’s THAT much colder where you are than in the Hudson Valley – we’re a little North of Katherine and not hitting the farmers mkts. much on account of the garden, but in it we have (partial list): beets, carrots, lettuces, endive, broccoli raab, kales and hardy herbs, and if we were growing for market we’d have cabbage, brussels sprouts, broccoli, potatoes, turnips and celery root, too.
Plenty enough to justify a market, plus as you both point out there’s all that local protein and bread… maybe the problem is that manager’s shrug? It sounds as though he/she either hasn’t tried to find an indoor venue or has tried over and over without success and has given up.
Discouraging regardless, but if you have a root cellar or facsimile this might be a good excuse to head West, hit DIA and stock up while in town.