How to love beetroot; or, a recipe

A quick recipe, as promised.

Beetroot, broad bean and feta salad.

Here is a lovely fresh summer thing, to cheer you up as the rain falls.

First, catch your beets. It really is worth getting the fresh, muddy kind. Chop the tops off, quarter them, and boil for about half an hour, or until tender. Let them cool, slip the skins off, and slice.

Take a handful of broad beans, as many as you fancy, and simmer for about six minutes. Allow these to cool also, and skin them too. The beetroot skin falls off, pleasingly, but broad bean skins are horrid, recalcitrant things. It really is worth the effort, though. Find something interesting on the wireless to distract your mind. (I find the skinning is helped by making little nips with a sharp knife in the top of the bean, and then sort of pushing the innards out with your fingers.)

Skin and slice finely half a cucumber.

Take two mint leaves, and very, very finely slice these. You want the merest ribbons.

Crumble or finely cube about a third of a slab of feta cheese.

Now arrange all the ingredients as you like, on a nice plate (I like a plain white one to show off the colours.) This salad should not be mixed, as the beetroot will bleed and make everything look like a road accident. It is best artfully assembled in layers. (I really do sound like an insane Mrs Beeton at this stage.)

Dress with some good olive oil, a scatter of sea salt, and a squeeze of lemon.

And that is it.

I always bang on about giving you brevity, and not going on and on and on. Then, when I am concise and ruthlessly short, I have angst about not having rambled about a bit. My attitude to blogging is absolutely idiotic, and there is no reason or rhyme to it.

Have a very happy Friday.

 

Quick pictures:

Not terribly good one of salad:

Pot table:

Thistle in Red’s field:

Garden:

Red the Mare:

Very, very sweet today. I took her with as I scoured her paddock for hideous ragwort. I thought I could combine a bit of join-up work with digging for weeds. Also, it was a good opportunity to teach her to stand like a rock as I shoved my huge garden fork into the earth to get every last root.

She really did pass with flying colours. It never ceases to amaze me that she will follow my every footstep. Although sometimes she gets bored and buggers off. Then I have to get her back, reassert my leadership (ENORMOUS body language), and back we are together, like a tiny miracle in a soggy Scottish field.

The helicopters are going over all the time at the moment. I imagine it is members of the Royal Family going to visit the Duke of Edinburgh, who is in hospital in Aberdeen. In my nutty mind, I imagine Prince Charles looking down and saying: Now there’s a nice sort of horse.

Pigeon:

Really, the beauty. Age does not wither her. And as for her infinite variety…

Cloudy hill: