Here are two things I’ll forever remember about Tim’s homecoming from Iraq a couple years ago: the way he burrowed his head into my neck and hugged me so hard I lost my breath, and the beets I served for dinner.

While he was gone I worked like a lunatic, leaving home early and extending every day’s end with anyone who would keep me from my quiet kitchen. I was a cheater that year, but only on dinner.

As soon as I knew Tim’s team had touched down in the U.S., my menu planning began. It was late April then, and beets were surfacing at all the restaurants that were sustaining me. I began to picture his first home-cooked meal: a heaping plate of greens dressed with cold, roasted beets, mounds of fresh goat cheese, toasted pine nuts, maybe a citrus and olive oil drizzle. The boy had been subsisting on dehydrated chow, peanut butter and pixie sticks. Of course he’d be craving vegetables!

The night he arrived, we stole away early from the airport and the happy crowd of family who’d assembled, so in a hurry to catch each other up on the last year. Back at his place, Tim went to change out of his cammies and I went to cook, my thoughts hopscotching from happy (he made it!) to horrible (what if they re-activate him?). Before long he padded into the kitchen, yapping about his empty stomach and smacking me on the rump, just as goofy and giddy as I remembered. Then I saw his eyes go to the plates. He didn’t look up. Oh, honey, he said, you made beets.

Seriously? My man came home from combat, and I made salad?!

Beets were banished from the repertoire for a long time. But we’re eating less meat these days, and I found them hard to resist last month when they came into season here in Washington. I thought we’d do best with a fresh take, so I decided to stow the roots for a bit, and just cook the greens and stems.

They aren’t scraps, but they can be scrappy; you want to avoid the weary, wilted lot. I looked for bunches that had been picked the same day or the day prior, and which were plenty sturdy to the touch. Cook them the same day you buy them.

Riffing off a Mark Bittman recipe for chard, I simmered and then sauteed them, adding my own accents along the way: garlic, pine nuts, dried cherries and balsamic vinegar. We’ve had them a couple times now, on slices of crispy toast and with bowls of sticky rice. The last time, Tim asked when we’d get to eat the roots with goat cheese…and I almost got up from the table to hug him.

Note: Want something like the beet meal I botched? Try this. Want the welcome-home dinner I should’ve made: beet greens and steak? This arrangement looks great. I’m also eyeing this beet risotto, not to mention this farfalle.

Kristen Hinman writes the column Swine Dining: A City Girl Cooks Country. She used to think the perfect weeknight dinner consisted of an omelette and a glass of wine. OK, she still does. Her husband, on the other hand? Not so much. Luckily, three years of recreational cooking school in Paris and a vast cookbook collection mean she’s never at a loss for ideas. Kristen is a journalist who has lingered in celebrity chefs’ kitchens, nosed over midwestern caviar houses and taken pigs to slaughter–all on the clock. She lives in St. Louis and Washington D.C. and is the winner of two James Beard Foundation Awards for newspaper writing. One day she will wallpaper her pantry with Gourmet magazine covers. Visit Kristen’s website. Photo by Michelle Hudgins.

They are right.

I’m not eating beets. I’m not eating cabbage. I’m not eating swiss chard. I am definitely not eating sardines. But I am eating cinnamon, pomegranate juice, dried plums, frozen blueberries, and canned pumpkin. That’s a start, right?

Back to beets. Beets have always been a very mysterious vegetable to me. I didn’t grow up eating them. Not that I’m one to garden (I live on a lovely patch of pavement in the city), but beets aren’t something I’ve ever grown or harvested myself. And how do you cook them? I know they are absolutely sweet and delicious–possibly nature’s sweetest vegetable–once I can get my hands on them (and they stain, so watch out!). But unfortunately, when it comes to beets and other such vegetables, intimidation gets the best of me and I’m usually afraid to attempt cooking them.

But in the spirit of healthy eating and conquering my cooking fears (see a prior post on this topic), I decided to give beets a try. I had collected a little bit of vague advice from a friend. I thought the hard part was actually getting myself to purchase them at the store. Once I got them home it would be cake.

(Humorous anecdote: The leaves were so long the whole beets didn’t fit in the standard size plastic vegetable bag at the grocery store, but, like a carton of eggs, I managed to babysit the unruly creatures all the way to the check-out line, gently place them on the rolling conveyor belt, and then–wham!–the otherwise very kind check-out bagger folded my beet stems to squeeze them into my reusable shopping bag! With a worried smile, I informed him that I wanted to photograph those beets. He rushed off to get another bunch for me.)

I thought maybe it was as easy as chopping off the stems and leaves and putting them in a preheated oven. I decided to make a few other vegetables at the same time, and threw in a sweet potato and a regular potato on the same cookie sheet. Maybe my attention wasn’t focused–I was just winging it. I pulled out the sizzling beets, oozing sticky juice, and let them rest for a while. They seemed tender when I pierced them.

I served them with our chicken dinner, proud of my accomplishment. But I needed a steak knife to cut them. I hadn’t cooked them long enough.

What did I learn? One, I am now capable of bringing home even the most intimidating vegetables. And two, I am now even more determined to give them another try–this time letting them cook until they are really done. A recipe like this Orange and Beet Salad would be a good start for me.

Are you eating beets? If you are a beginner when it comes to trying new vegetables, many stores, such as Trader Joe’s, sell beets pre-cooked in the refrigerated section.

Top photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/craigcloutier/ / CC BY-SA 2.0

Second photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/noshha/ / CC BY-SA 2.0