beet bowl

Being an early riser definitely has its benefits. While some use the extra time to enrich themselves intellectually or perhaps to squeeze in a few extra chores before they kick their day into high gear, I consider it prime temporal real estate to do one thing and one thing only: to get a head-start on breakfast, or, as I generally refer to it, the most important event of the day. There is nothing in the world that compares to the feeling of brewing up a tasty mug of caffeinated water and slapping together something delicious before the sun has a chance to shine its divine light upon my sad, shameful life.

Recently, I've been fortunate enough to have the time and means to go to the local farmer's market in my neighborhood every Saturday; it's fucking awesome. You get to walk around what is usually an empty strip mall parking lot for a couple of hours and look at aisles and aisles of stalls full of seasonal produce. If you wear a little makeup, the berry boys will sometimes even let you get a taste of their wares. I love free samples. They are without a doubt my greatest passion in life. Like a hungry dog, I just keep going back for more.

This past trip, a lady was peddling vegetables from a couple of crates set apart from the rest of the food she was selling - markdown bins, my greatest weakness. On the surrounding tables were banded bunches of root vegetables going for upwards of five dollars a pop; in the crates were what appeared to be bags full of identical goods, the sign taped up next to them proclaiming that they were only one dollar each. Needless to say, I got my sticky bear paws in there as soon as I was able to work the math out in my head. Four whole beets, slightly irregular, but nonetheless local, organic, and fresh as all hell, for a measly dollar. There was nothing wrong with them to warrant the steep reduction in asking price; they were in there simply because they were just a little bit different. How could I refuse?

If you live in California, there's a good chance you already know that if it can be frozen and blended, you can buy it in a smoothie at your local Nekter juice pub, or a similar, locally-owned establishment of the same trade. While beets are definitely a staple when it comes to cold-pressed beverages and the like, they are one thing that is always suspiciously absent from the fancy bowl part of the menu in places like these; in my own personal opinion, this beautiful pink gem of the Earth deserves a shot at glory. Now, it's time to lead by example.

one beet, cubed, steamed, and frozen

one-quarter of a cup of split peas

a handful of spinach

two teaspoons of chia seeds

one packet of splenda

one pinch of salt

one-third of a cup of water

Some may prefer to add the beets in raw; this is a practice that, as far as I am aware, will almost certainly not kill you. There are many ways to slice a beet, so to speak.

Here they are, or, more accurately, here are what remain. Beets have got to be one of the most incredible things human beings learned to yank out of the ground and consume. How we as a race managed to make the initial discovery is absolutely beyond me; from the surface of the dirt up, they just look like shitty weeds. The ingenuity of the human spirit astounds me every day. When you cut into them, the color is so loud.

To assist our humble beet of choice in the task of keeping me awake through the better part of the afternoon, I've enlisted the help of several of my go-to companion ingredients, the green split peas being a relatively new addition to the roster. They apparently contain more protein per serving than black beans. It's time to put that claim to the ultimate test.

Of course, it wouldn't be a party without a menagerie of toppings backing up the bowl of the hour; here you can see I have all of my nutritional bases covered, doubling down on my omega-3's for the weekend ahead. Sprouts was having a sale on chia seeds last time I was there. I'm nothing but a mindless consumer at heart.

Once you've determined the most aesthetically pleasing way to present the beet bowl to yourself, toss everything on, taking care not to cover up all of that glorious, vibrant pink. I like to leave a little peeking out just so I don't forget what I'm eating halfway through the meal. If you're anything like me, you'll elect to do this part over ice; we are not making a sloppy soup bowl today, two in a row would be very tacky.

Here she is, in all of her frozen glory. Between the ungodly amount of fiber in this thing and the dainty dollop of vegan yogurt I've lovingly doled out overtop, a bowl like this has the power to keep my bowel movements regular for days on end. Unprecedented. Truly an experienced to be remembered.

Well, that's my spiel for the morning. Pardon the brevity of this entry; I've got a job interview in the city at 9:15 sharp and need at least an hour alone in a Starbucks bathroom to prepare my demeanor before I'll be fit for their scrutiny and judgement. Wish me luck. I'm gonna need it.