Thursday, June 23, 2011

My kitchen crime scene

I like red things. I dye my hair, I wear red nail polish, I like red lipstick. And I love beet juice.
I don't like cooked beets. I like the raw, unadulterated stuff sliced, mashed, and squeezed until there is nothing left but the juice pouring out of the spout with the sawdust-like pulp coming out the other end of my juicer. It's even better when mixed with carrot juice and a tiny bit of squeezed lime, though the orange and green does dilute the beautiful red.

No matter what I do and how hard I try, the juice splatters everywhere. It looks like a crime scene - much worse than when I dye my hair. I should take comparison photos.
The white countertops and cutting boards I have don't help, of course.

I'm not complaining, though. I think part of the appeal is that beets leave a bloody mess. Is that morbid? Gross? I could try to buy golden beets, but that might ruin my fun. If I'm going to be healthy (or at least try to be), I see no reason why I shouldn't be a tiny bit juvenile.

I prefer my pistachios to be red, too.

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