Beet it

I can't remember who first mentioned chocolate beetroot cake to me. It was definitely someone on Twitter from South Africa, but as to who exactly, I won't reveal, in part because I can't remember. Are beets good for short-term memory? Let's hope so.

Anyway, I finally gave it a go, baking one tonight--after first roasting the beets nearly a week ago and after having roasted another batch a month or so ago but, after repeated culinary delays, eventually tossing them. I figured I didn't want both beetroot cake and salmonella.

The cake turned out pretty good, if I do say so. Chocolately and rich bit not cloying or sickening. I thought it could have been a little sweeter (I used honey and maple syrup, rather than sugar) and moister (at 40 minutes, it didn't seem done enough; at 45, mmmm, maybe a little too done?). Thus I'm going to make a glaze tomorrow, which will hopefully resolve both issues or at least hide both failings.

Truth be told, I'm not a great baker. I can generally manage cakes, but I am ashamed to admit I've never really attempted a pie, other than a Québécois tarte au sucre, which after two goes, I still can't get right. The filling never sticks--which is amazingly difficult not to do with a mixture of brown sugar and butter--and I'm too skittish to make my own crust. Resolution for a new year: Bake a damn pie already.

And maybe make more cakes. The good thing about a beetroot cake is that it gives the illusion of healthiness. I'll take what I can get at this point, but all in all, this wasn't as deadly as it might have been. Some butter, yes, but the aforementioned honey and maple syrup, a little olive oil, and no dairy. So I'll have to go screw it up with some cream cheese, Karo syrup, or a stick of butter. That's the solution! Beetroot Kiev! The perfect Russian-Ukrainian dessert.

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Ah yes, the South African obsession continues, having moved on from music and history to foodways. I roasted a fairly decent chicken over Thanksgiving, stuffed with sage and onion, coated in butter and stone-ground mustard, taking the recipe from Lazy Days (or as my friend Cali put it, Boozhy Days), a cookbook by South African "lifestyles" author Phillippa Cheifitz, with which my sister gifted me after her last SA sojourn. Lazy, boozhy, lovely, snooty--whatever, it's a gorgeous book featuring some delicious food, even if there's not a chance in Good Hope I'll find a supply of snoek at Wholey's fish market in the Strip District anytime soon.

I'm even toying with the idea of trying to make koeksisters, a South African pastry that resembles twists or braids, which sounds inordinately complicated to prepare and taxing even to my level of cultural stalking.

So maybe, instead, focus on pie for the new year. Something all-American, like apple. Or cherry. Or beetroot pecan.