{"id":1750,"date":"2005-05-01T19:23:00","date_gmt":"2005-05-01T19:23:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/elitemporaryblog.wordpress.com\/2005\/05\/01\/on-springtime-with-a-beet-feta-tart"},"modified":"2015-09-24T03:54:23","modified_gmt":"2015-09-24T03:54:23","slug":"on-springtime-with-a-beet-feta-tart","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orangette.net\/2005\/05\/on-springtime-with-a-beet-feta-tart\/","title":{"rendered":"On springtime, with a beet-feta tart"},"content":{"rendered":"
I have a confession to make. Although this is not exactly the kind of study that will help me to finish my thesis, it does get me thinking. In springtime, any space with or without four walls starts to look like a bedroom, from buses to bus stops, elevators, and entire streets\u2014not to mention my personal weakness, the grocery store, where the term \u201ccheck-out line\u201d takes on a whole new meaning<\/strong>. At this time of year, everything is an aphrodisiac, from ginger to gas fumes. And though we seem to be feeling unusually hopeful and open-minded about the sexy possibilities around the next corner, I\u2019d like to point out one that you might not have dared to consider: beets.<\/p>\n Beets aren\u2019t your typical erotic fare, I know<\/strong>. But given the proper context and care, they\u2014like so many others who are rough, misunderstood, and given to spending lots of time underground\u2014can be transformed into something surprisingly luscious. Take, for instance, a beet-feta tart.<\/p>\n I first tasted this tart at a loosely aphrodisiacs-themed dinner party<\/strong> back in late February. For the occasion, Kate had roasted a chicken and served it on a platter of red rose petals, with handcuffs around its legs and a thin black satin ribbon tied around one of its wings. Margot and Todd arrived with a perky green salad served in a bowl looped with a danger-sexy spike-studded belt, and for my part, I whipped up a rum cream pie topped with chopped pistachios and shaved chocolate, banking on the age-old formula of booze plus whipped cream. There were also, of course, the standbys: oysters, strawberries, wine, melted chocolate, and so on. But the vedette of the evening was the beet-feta tart brought by a friend of a friend whose name I can no longer remember. I didn’t, however, forget the important details: the tart looked like a sheet of hot-pink satin overlaid with off-white lace,<\/strong> and it was blush-inducingly delicious. It brought together the dark, earthy flavor of beets\u2014sweet and rich, with a welcome bitter edge\u2014and the salty tang of feta, binding them in a smooth, eggy custard.<\/p>\n The party didn\u2019t exactly turn into a display of our most basic animal instincts, but the tart was plenty satisfying. And now that the season is optimal for both beets and bedrooms, it could only get better. I\u2019m sure I’ll see you in the check-out line.<\/p>\n
I have a dark, dirty, now-not-so-secret fascination with the \u201cmissed connections\u201d listings<\/a> on craigslist<\/a>. It\u2019s not that I go there expecting to find a message left expressly for me, although I suppose it wouldn\u2019t be entirely out of the question to see \u201cHottie buying Chocolove 77% at Whole Foods – m4w \u2013 28,\u201d or perhaps \u201cSaturday Pilates vixen in black ninja outfit \u2013 m4w \u2013 26.\u201d No, mine is, as<\/a> you<\/a> might<\/a> expect<\/a>, a curiosity vaguely informed by anthropology. After all, it is<\/em> springtime, and true to our most basic animal instincts, humans everywhere\u2014but especially on craigslist\u2014are on the hunt for a mate<\/strong>. It\u2019s very entertaining to watch and read, and cheaper even than a trashy romance novel. And anyway, sometimes anthropology is nothing more than glorified voyeurism.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n