There’s nothing inherrently American about not liking beets. It has to do with the fact that they’re vile, disgusting little turds not fit for human consumption.
Dried apricots, OTOH…yum. But they give me the shits.
Actually any Australian burger will have beet(root) on it unless you specify otherwise. “The lot” is the addition of egg, bacon, cheese and pineapple. We get so used to them that you can buy tinned “baby” beets that are about the size of a golf ball and are great consumed whole. Tupperware even make a beetroot keeper that allows you to extract them from their juices and let them drain before serving. I chuck them in a colander and rinse them.
A former friend who was a country boy used to have jars of his mother’s beetroot in orange juice and herbs. Bloody fantastic.
OK, as much as those of you who know me are aware of my passion for beets, I had nothing to do with bumping this. Please tell me, oh Mr. or Ms. Pork Rind, what inspired you?
This American hates beets, because, like salmon and other fishes, I was never served properly prepared beets as a child. Open can, dump in pan, heat up, put on kid’s plate and make 'em sit there until they eat it. (I never did understand that force-
'em-to-eat philosophy, but I am not a parent and that’s another thread.)
When I moved to Florida, I learned all about how fish is wonderful when it isn’t coated in batter and deep fried. Or when it isn’t a freshwater fish that’s been frozen for two years and THEN coated in batter and deep fried. Hated fish until I tried fresh grilled saltwater fish. So I supposed beets are the same thing: when I move to some Slavic country and someone serves me well-prepared beets, I may like them. When I was visiting a friend in Montana a few years back, she had grown some beets in her garden and served them at dinner. I took one to be polite, but I just didn’t care for the flavor.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but can we just establish that the correct spelling would be “borscht”? Those of you leaving the “t” off the end are making me nuts – I don’t believe you that you’ve had real, authentic Russian borscht… if you cannot spell it correctly. You’re damaging your own credibility through poor spelling.
Finally, my favorite beet story: After I went off to college, my parents told me this. We had this really cool cat. May parents came home one afternoon to find this trail of what they thought was blood, from the kitchen, down the hall, around to some other rooms and finally ending up in the bedroom. Worried that the cat had terribly injured herself, they followed the trail of blood… to find the cat, contently playing with a beet in a corner of the bedroom. I guess my parents had some for lunch, and didn’t clean up before they left to run errands. Cat found it and batted it around the house for a while, which, as far as I’m concerned, is as good a use for a beet as any other. YMMV
The best burger I ever had was one called an “Aussie burger” from Happy Jacks in Perth. The secret ingredient was…beetroot.
P.S. Anyone now how to remove beetroot stains from your tee shirt and car upholstery?
I actually like beets–and me, the fussy eater. (Which as George Carlin likes to say is just a euphamism for ‘big pain in the ass’.) However, I had a bad beet experience last time I was in Mexico. I was served fresh beetroot juice and had severe stomach cramps and the trots for 2 days.
Heh. I ordered an “Aussie burger” at the Hungry Jack’s in Port Augusta, for some reason assuming that it would have barbecue sauce on it or something. The sliced beet and egg was quite a surprise, but it was actually pretty good.
I grew up having pickled beets pretty often, and I LOVE them. brachyrhynchos’ recipe up there sounds really good… maybe I’ll give it a whirl soon. Incidentally, it reminds me of a former boss who had tremendous cravings for pickled beet and herring salad while she was pregnant… only I’d usually find her eating a huge dish of it at 8:30 a.m. :eek:
Not in standard transliteration from Russian, it’s not. There’s no “t” sound on the end in Russian, but I admit I can’t vouch for other Slavic languages. And I’ve eaten various versions at the source, as noted above.
Well, you said it, not me.
(Although I should probably not make fun of someone who is feeding me dinner tonight. I’m still invited, right? 
You’re not going to sneak anything into my curry?)
Eva Luna, I just now found this thread, and have printed your friend’s recipe. I must admit, however, that I may not use it, as I’ve always made borscht from the recipe my mother (rest her soul) gave me. Mom’s recipe is simple and is really a beet - vegetable soup (with pork though), so I’m not sure it classifies as a true borscht, but that’s what we’ve always called it.
Beets are the most intense of vegetables. (Tom Robbins, “Jitterbug Perfume”)
I am willing to try anything food wise at least once. I even ate fois gras recently, did not like it very well, but I ate it . but beets…
beets… taste of dirt to me- cooked, raw, canned or pickled. I have yet to have a borsht that was good (but I may be bold and try Eva Lunas recipie), I once had a friend whose mom made borsht… it was the color of pepto bismol :eek: I could not bring myself to ever try it, I was way too scared of it :o
This American dislikes beets because in color, texture, and flavor, they make me think of a large scab soaked in water until mushy.
However, up until recently, I’d never had a beet that didn’t come out of a can. When my wife and I were in Chicago last summer for our fifth anniversary, we went to a swanky restaurant, and one of the second-course options was a beet dish. I figured, hey, if anybody can make beets palatable, these guys can, and sure enough, it was actually pretty tasty. Clearly fresh and specially prepared instead of glopped out of a tin cylinder.
Haven’t had them since, though.
The premier reason to hate beets is because they always make your mashed potatoes pink. Ask any 6 year old. And remember, of all the vegetables in the universe, only the beet goes on.
::channeling Sony and Cher most ashamedly::
I admit it. I hate beets, but probably my reason for hating them is rather unique to me.
When I was a sophomore in college I had to get to a place about 400 plus miles away. I started driving and my car exploded. I then started hitchhiking. I then hopped a freight. It was a beet train and for seven hours I lay among them getting sick of their feel, their smell, their look. Just thinking about it now is kicking in my gag reflex.
Thank you but no thanks when it comes to beets. If I could be in a different continent than the nearest beet I would be happy.
TV
People are commenting that they like beets but not pickled beets, or like pickled beets but not other beets, and, well, I don’t know what it is that I’ve had.
Very deep pinkish red, sliced, from a can, intensely sweet. Is that a beet or a pickled beet or a ruined beet or ?
I didn’t like whatever it was that I ate because it was way too sweet. I don’t tend to like sweet vegetables. If offered a beet, I’d probably try it. The only vegetable I absolutely will not ever try again is okra.
Oh, I love beets. I will regualry eat canned beets with balsamic vinegar. But then I also like liver, brussel sprouts, spinach, and all the other “icky” foods. I was a weird kid.
Not a very interesting story, really. I was searching for another old thread that I had posted in when I saw that I had rudely ignored Green Bean’s question.
I still laugh when I think about how surprised I was to find an egg on my burger and then the shock of finding a mass of beets under the egg. It was like some sort of booby-trap.
Since then I’ve spent a lot of time in China for work and am no longer suprised by anything I’m served. Whatever, down the hatch.