Mmmm, beets!

Today I got to help my grandparents can some pickled beets.  By help I mean urge to do it so that I can learn how and then reap the benefits by eating said beets.  My grandparents are good sports and the beets were growing up a storm in their garden, so they agreed and we tackled those that looked big enough. Sadly, I didn't get a picture of the wheelbarrow full of beets while my grandad, who I call Mule, was trimming the stems.  It looked quite impressive to see a huge pile of greens, though.  After trimming the stems to a length of a few inches (which I wondered about but figured I would learn why they were left long if I shut up and paid attention) we then had to wash and sort them by size.  This is Gram starting the sort with Lucy pondering whether or not we had something edible for her.

Once sorted, we then cooked them until they were forkable.  Gram is amazingly patient and kept telling Mule and me that they weren't done and we had to wait.  Luckily she knows what she is talking about, because when we pulled them off the stove to slip the skins they were perfect.  It's almost like she's done this a few times before or something!  When we pulled the beets off the heat and doused them with cold water, then the fun began.  I figured we would have to peel the beets with a paring knife. Oh no! The very cool thing that happens to cooked beets (and maybe other root vegetables for all I know) is that the skin just slips right off of them! All one has to do is squeeze the little beet and it gives up its skin in nothing flat.  It also tends to fly out of one's fingers if one is not paying attention, leaving a trail of vibrant fuschia juice in its wake.  Ahem.  At any rate, this beautiful sight is our beets after they were cooked, skinned, trimmed, and cut up for pickling. 

 Before I go much further, you may be wondering why I'm raving on about beets.  That would be because you are not in the "beet camp."  If, though, you fully understand why beets deserve such glowing attention, that means you are with me in beet adoration.  I find there really is no middle ground. For you beet haters, you must try something other than the sad little cubes of purplish glop the lunch ladies slopped at you in elementary school.  Even I don't much like unseasoned beets that have the texture of grainy paste. Try some pickled beets, and even better, try home-pickled beets.  They are fabulous.

Here is Mule being a bit impatient and poking at the beets while they were in the pickling solution.  Gotta love that he's still wearing his cowboy hat.  The kitchen smelled glorious at this point.

And finally, the beets were done and put into jars.  I do have to admit that I got distracted and talked to my cousin for most of the time while the packing of the jars happened, but I did watch. I'm a huge help.

The grand total for the day: eight quarts and one pint of beets pickled, one countertop thoroughly scrubbed of errant beet juice, one granddaughter taught the ways of the beet, and two patient grandparents in need of a much deserved nap. Oh, and those stems that have to be left long? That's so the color doesn't leach out of the beets while they cook.  Cool!