When The Cat's Away

I went to the farmers' market for peaches and mizuna.  I came home with precious little Shelby County  Montmorency pie cherries and gorgeous golden beets from Steve's Plants. Blind-sided. Hoodwinked.  Although I adore beets, I'm not sure why I buy them because most of the people I know don't care for beets. At. All. Michael humors me and tolerates them, but he's not crazy for them. Like a tawdry affair, I have to sneak around to get my fill.

Carpe diem. Left home alone for a day while Michael attended to the tale of Mary Todd as a docent at her childhood home, I seized the opportunity to hook up with my sassy golden beets for a casual midday romp and a self indulgent tumble with a heaping bowl of chilled beet soup.

Chilled Golden Beet Soup.
Typically, I'll  roast late season beets to coax the sweetness from the hardy flesh. Early season beets seem naturally sweeter to me, so I took a simpler route. Very simple.

I peeled and sliced 6 large golden beets.  After slicing 4 purple candy onions into rings, I sauteed them in olive oil over a medium flame.  When they turned translucent, I added the beets, 2 smashed garlic cloves, a liberal smack of salt, and ground white pepper. Just before the onions caramelized, I deglazed the pot with a splash of white wine to pick up the sticky fond that accumulated on the bottom of the pot. When the wine reduced to a glaze, I added 6 cups of chicken stock, brought it to a boil, reduced it to a simmer, covered the pot, poured myself a stiff bloody mary, and watered the herb garden.

After 45 minutes, the beets were meltingly tender. I pureed the soup in batches, cooled it down, and slid it into the refrigerator to chill.

Before dishing up my snack, I tamed the earthy tang of the cooked beets by whisking a splash of cream and creme fraiche into the soup. After tarting  it up with a lone sprig of fresh dill, I tipped the bowl to my lips and drank it all like a beet-starved heathen.


Simple.
Refreshing.
Sneaky.
Fabulous.