Beets Me, Boris

I’VE ADDED “NONSENSE”

To The Search Category On Kuched …

Joining Such Ubiquitous Essentials As: Life – Confessions – Humor – Satire – Shorts. And, The Soon-To-Released Darlings … Ka-Ka-Say-Ional and Meh-Vel-Ous.

Adding Nonsense Seemed Obvious Because I’d Bought 10 Lbs. Of Fresh Beetroot – Beta Vulgaris To The Botanical-centric Smarty Folks … Phytologist … If You Must – Last Sunday.

“Oh, How Betterave, Bertrando.”

FUN FACT / CONFESSION / DELUSION

I Divided A Goodly Portion Of The Bloody Burgundy Bulbs And Dumped A Batch In A Large Stock Pot Filled With Clean, Potable Tap Water The Mama Once Did … And Simmered Until Nearly Tender – So Al Dente, Dante – And “Pickled” The Betelgeuse Out-Of-‘Em In A Brine Of Apple Cider Vinegar, Curated Regret And Look-At-The-Holy-Mess-I’ve-Just-Made-In-The-Kitchen-Carl!

A Local Discount Grocer, “No Frills” – My Once-A-Month Diversion Whenever I Feel The Urge To Stretch-A-Buckeroo Excursion – Was Running a Beet Sale.

“Exactly Who Can Resist The Primordial Pull Of A Beet Sale? Not Me – Enough Reason That I Scooped Up A McChunky Ten-Pounder (4.5 Kg) Bag For $1.99. And, With The Purchasing Power / Means@Hand, I Was Puppy-In-Snausages-Happy To Be In A Blessed Position To Procure The Big Sack.”

At A Fraction Less Than $0.20 A Pound, I Kept Blue Idling Out Front Just In Case The Produce Manager – A Barely Mustachioed Fellow Drabbed Down In A Black & Gold Company ‘Apron-Smock-Lab Coat Uni’ … I’ll Call Phil (Not Phillip) – Ever Got His Senses Back And Stopped The Sale. Okay, It Wasn’t Actually A Beet Sale – More Beets On Special Weekly Promo – But Where’s The Fun In That?

TURNS OUT …

The Big Sack Is A Crapola Bundle Of Beets … Possibly 9 Lbs. Way-Too-Many … For Me.

As One Fully Realized, Rationalized, Non-Marginalized, Masculine-Positive Dudeman With A Reasonable Appetite/Appreciation/Apprehension – Foodie Fondness – For Beets And The Color Betanin, I’ve Tapped Deeply Into My Beet Peak. Betanin = Fancy Pants Red With A Purple Primer = Stainiest Pigment Known To Humanity.

Si, Si … I Donated A Small Heap To My Ragazzi – Uno & Due – When The Kuched Sequels (Male Offspring No. 1 & No. 2) Popped In For Dinner With Dad Last Weekend.

The Rest?

I PROMISE, I PROMISED … PLUG-PLUG-PLUG

A Baby Bundle To Fellow Blogger Das Heidi Of The Honest Design Blog – Ooops, Was That A Non-Compensated Plug For The Upstart Design Diva’s? – But I Haven’t Delivered As Yet.

Heidi Is Ehtch (pronounced: 8’cha) = Heather. She’ll Take Two Bulbs. That’s What She Said After I Asked. I’m Strictly Enforcing A 4-Bulb Minimum. We’re In Negotiations. I’ll Settle At 3 – If She Likes This Post – But She Owes Me, Right?

I Should Also Mention, Das Heidi Has A Partner, Amy-Not-Aimee. Not Actually A Partner Partner Partner – But Still, Never Mind The Semantics – Bee-Eff-Eph’s From The Way Back Glory Days, Which Is KuchedSprechen For They Just Might Be The Next Big Deal You Mayn’t Have Heard About – Yet – So, Get In There And Follow. The Honest Design Blog. Big Creative + Design Talent. Bigger Hearts. Honest-To-Goodness. Really, Next Level Social Media Influencers – Sans Elevated Egos – Making A Ripple-Splash-Quake.

HGTV Will Probably Discover Them After You Do. Shame Lame Blame. Let Eh + Ehtch Know I Sent You. There’s A Big Thank You In It For All Y’alleses. And, A Beet Bulb, Baby.

BORSCHT, BABA!

The Last Time I Made Borchst I Spelled It Borsch Or Borsht.

I Was Single, Living Alone, Ambitious, Full Of Promise/Potential, Full Of Poop/Popcorn … And, Happy-Happy-Happy …

Like I Am Today – Just Not 21 – And Way Poopier.

“And, I’m Back – Beguiled By Borshch – With A Multitude Of Varietal Spellings. Here’s Another 3-Take: Boarsche. Boresht. Borished.”

BUT, FIRST THERE’S STOCK TO BE MADE

A Reality Unravelling Behind Me – Over My Shoulder – In My Newest Kitchen Darling:

A Sensible-Sized 5-Quart Proper Dutch Oven. Old School Slow-Cookery.

“I Swiped Online For A Value-Quality – Roll Back / Don’t You Damn Think About It / Screw Cognitive Dissonance – Option From The Beautiful People’s Republic Of Walmart. We’re Enjoying A Temporary Truce After My Jacked-Up Licorice-Flavored Valentine To Them Whenever That Was …”

It Comes Courtesy Of The Pioneer Woman. In The Greatest Color Ever Baked On Enamel-Coated Cast Iron Cookware – Aqua – Call It Teal, Even Once, And We’re Not Friends Anymore. Ah-Kwuh. Og-Wah?

POURQUOI PAS ‘LE CREUSET’?

Being A Shameless Fan Boy Of The Iconic French Brand Le Creuset Has It Limits …

For Instance And Assorted Whatnots, How Can I Justify Spending Over $600 On A Pot? For The Oven. Well, I Can Because I’m Genetically A Self-Indulgent Dink With Materialistic Consumerism Leanings Whenever I Start Jones’ing/Wang’ing Over More Crap I Don’t Need. But, Here’s The Inflammatory Rub: Am I That Daft A Dumbass?

“Please Submit Your Answers/Best Guesses In The Comments Section Below. Remember To Hashtag It: #NotSureWhatYou’reTalkingAbout. #Yep. #LittleBit. #Sure. The First 1,000 Correct Answers Will Receive A Complimentary Digital Copy – Free-Download Code – Of The Preamble To My Never-To-Be-Released Bio, “Delusions Of Adequacy: Da-Da-Da.”

… Just When A Pretty Darn Good Ol’ American – Made-In-China – Specimen Costs Significantly Under A Cool Hundo.

IS IT JUST AS GOOD?

I May Never Care To Know … It’s A Question I Don’t Believe Warrants A $500 Premium To Ante Up To Find Out.

Or, Put Another Splendid Way:

“Would A Good Cook … Cook-As-Well … As A Good Cook Could Cook … Could A Woodchuck Chuck Wood … With A Less Premium Brand?”

Auguste Escoffier May Have Claimed Otherwise Asks My Inner Julia Child.

Image by Anna Sulencka from Pixabay